Snow Way Out (2 page)

“As long as you stay out of the way of our students who paid for the class,” Pinky said.

Mark held up his hand. “Hey, no problem. See you later.” And he was gone.

Pamela Hemley’s name sounded very familiar and then I remembered why. “Pinky, check the names on our class list.”

She retrieved it from the front table, glanced at it, and nodded her head. “Pamela’s on the list, all right. I don’t know her, so I didn’t make the association. If I heard her name back when Jerrell Powers got in trouble with the law, I surely have forgotten it by now.”

I looked at May. “Does Pamela know who you are?”

“I’m not sure. I started going by my middle name a couple years ago, and I took back my maiden name when I got divorced,” she said.

“I’m a thinkin’ she knows,” Archie said, then left without saying good-bye.

Pinky stuck her hands on her hips. “You don’t suppose she signed up out of curiosity, do you? To check out the former competition, what you’re like and all that?”

“Gosh, that seems silly,” May said.

I shrugged. “Well, we’ll know in about a half hour.” I looked at the supplies on the tables. “So what is there left to do? Do you need anything, May?”

She took in a deep breath, then let it go. “Oh, thank you, but no, I should be all set. We have twelve signed up, including the three of you. But I have enough supplies and handouts for twenty, if more want to join us.”

“Twenty would about max out our seating capacity, with the snow globe supplies on the extra tables, that is. It’s counter seating only after that.” Pinky pointed to two covered platters on the back counter. “I baked both fresh rhubarb and blueberry muffins. The rhubarb ones have a cream cheese center. I’ll run as many carafes of coffee as we need, and there’s plenty of bottled water.” Pinky loved making muffins and scones almost as much as we all loved eating them. For many of her customers, a muffin or scone was a necessary staple in their daily diet.

People started trickling into the coffee shop about fifteen minutes before seven. At 6:53 p.m., two women came in together. The red-haired woman was big boned and close to six feet tall, with a husky voice that matched her size. “I’m Pam Hemley, and this is my sister, Lauren Engle, visiting with me for a couple of days. We’re signed up for the class.”

I realized that I recognized Hemley from seeing her around town a few times. Engle was the same height as her sister, but with more lean muscle. They were somewhere in their late forties or early fifties. I hoped I sounded natural when I said, “Welcome. Please sign in and find a seat.” I glanced over to see if May had noticed Hemley’s arrival, but she was bent over her table of tools and supplies, with her back to us, and appeared completely absorbed in what she was doing. Maybe she was doing it on purpose to gain composure before facing them.

By seven, everyone who was preregistered had checked in, along with one of Brooks Landing’s finest, Mark Weston, and our old friend Archie Newberry, who were there to observe out of apparent curiosity. Erin slipped in at the last minute and sat at a table with Pam and Lauren, evidently without realizing who they were, and ignored my attempts to head her off at the pass. Pam looked from Erin to Lauren and raised her eyebrows.

May clapped her hands and held them together. “Okay, let’s get started. I want to thank all of you for coming tonight. I’m going to teach you the basics of making snow globes, and then it’s up to you and your own creativity after that. We’ll start with a little history on the globes, then I’d like each of you to introduce yourselves. And if you’d care to, tell why you’re here. I’m always interested in finding out what brings people to my classes.”

Why I’m here?
Well, that’s a loaded question. Long story short, I’m here because a senator’s husband decided he wanted to have more than a professional relationship with me, but I wouldn’t go for it. The trouble was, before I’d figured out the best way to tell anyone what was going on behind the facade of their happy marriage, his wife walked into my office as he was making one last attempt to convince me we’d make a great couple.

But I’m sure May was referring to the snow globe–making class, not my relocation from Washington, D.C., to Brooks Landing, Minnesota
. Okay, so I had to work a little harder at not dwelling on my scandalous past. I could thank Pinky for my attendance tonight. She had talked me into offering theme classes, and the biggest theme we had going in our shop of many collectibles was snow globes. Some had traveled from Spain, Austria, Germany, and other places around the world. When I had a minute here and there, I enjoyed picking one up, shaking it, and watching the scene seemingly come to life as multiple snowflakes fell to the ground.

There were any number of nature or village scenes to mesmerize me. Some were quart size, some pint size, others miniature. One of my favorites held a lighthouse on a rocky crag with a boat sailing on high waves heading toward it. There was a switch on the brown ceramic base to turn the lighthouse on, and even with the snow falling fast and furiously, the light was the beacon that would guide the ship to safety.

“. . . No one is really sure who invented snow globes in the first place, but they started to appear in France in the early 1800s. Some think they evolved from glass paperweights, which were common by the end of the eighteenth century.

“Snow globes really caught on after the Paris Universal Expo of 1878. Within a year, there were an estimated six companies in Europe making them. Originally, they had a sealed ceramic base with a heavy glass dome that was filled with water. The snow at that time was made from either pieces of porcelain or sand or bone chips—”

“Bone chips?” Pinky asked.

May smiled. “We won’t be using those today.” She glanced at a sheet of paper. “Okay, so before we get into our lesson, we’ll take a minute to introduce ourselves and break the ice, since we’ll be working together for the next hour or two. And if you’d like, as I said earlier, please tell us why you’d like to learn how to make snow globes. Whoever wants to start . . .”

Erin waved her hand slightly. “Erin Vickerman. I’m friends with Cami and Pinky, the two managers here, and I thought it’d be fun. I’m a teacher and I’m thinking of making snow globes with my students at Christmastime.”

At the mention of Erin’s name, Pam gave her sister a sideways glance. She knew the name of her boyfriend’s victim all right.

Erin looked at Lauren. “Next.”

“Um, I’m Lauren from St. Cloud. My sister invited me. I’m in town visiting because . . . oh, it’s a long story.” She looked at her sister to go on.

“My name is Pam, and I like to do crafts, and I’d never thought of making snow globes before I saw your ad for this class.”

Pam and Lauren had both conveniently left off their last names. And if Pam knew the connection between Jerrell Powers and May Gregors, she didn’t let on. And to her credit, May let it slide by also. But what else could she do? Make a big scene, spoil the class, and have the whole evening implode?

The other seven class attendees were two older ladies from my church; a mother and her teenage daughter; one of Pinky’s muffin eaters; one of the Curio Finds customers who loved looking at the snow globes but rarely bought one; and a local crafter who had booths at fairs around the state.

I introduced myself, then Pinky wrapped up the introduction session and remembered to thank everyone for coming—including the two observers, Archie and Mark.

May sucked in a quick breath. “To start off, we’ll go over all the materials we’re going to be working with. Did any of you bring your own figurines or scenes to use?” She looked around the room, and most of us shook our heads. Apparently no one had gotten that memo.

“Okay, that’s fine. Sometimes a grandma or mom has someone special who loves the Disney princesses, for example. No matter, I have plenty to choose from.” She pointed to a table behind her, where a large assortment awaited us. Wild and domestic animals, trees, farmhouses, barns, stores that looked like they were made of bricks, horse-driven sleighs, children skating or on sleds, people of all ages. What to choose?

May went on, “There are many materials people use nowadays to make the snow, like glitter or crushed eggshells, but I like using benzoic acid because the crystals look more like real snow. I really enjoyed high school chemistry, and it’s fun for me to use this method.”

“How does that work?” Mark asked from the cheap seats.

May threw a glance his way. “Actually, the snow is made from crystals of water from which you precipitate the crystals of benzoic acid.”

“Precipitate benzoic acid?” a church lady asked.

May smiled. “It’s not as complicated as it sounds. You can use a glass measuring cup or a flask—I’ll use a pan tonight—and add the acid to the water. Then you heat it to dissolve the benzoic acid. You can do it on your stovetop or use a microwave, even a coffeemaker. You don’t need to boil it.”

“So how do the snowflakes form?” Pinky asked.

“It’s magic. Or so it seems. It’s like dissolving sugar in water to make rock candy. After it’s boiled and cooled, it forms the hard candy.”

I had never thought of how rock candy was made before. Or snow for globes, either, for that matter.

“When the benzoic acid cools and approaches room temperature, the solid substance separates from the water, and voila! Little snowflakes. Slower cooling makes for prettier flakes, just like in the formation of real snowflakes.”

It made sense. In Minnesota we had everything from hard, driving pellets of sleet to fluffy flakes the size of a small fist. The wet snow was heavy and more difficult to shovel. Dry snow was light, perfect “powder” for skiing and sledding. But on a warm October evening, real snow was not on the list of things I wished for. Winter would come soon enough.

“Okay, class, let’s get going on the flakes.” May set a glass pan on a portable cooktop unit she’d brought with her. She had a pitcher of water, which she poured into the pan, followed by a premeasured amount of benzoic acid. “I’ve got the recipe listed on your handouts.”

May heated the solution to nearly boiling, then removed the pan from the burner and set it aside. “All right. So, everyone, take some time to design your scene. And I’ll help you as much as you’d like me to.”

I debated whether to tell Erin who her tablemates were, but decided to wait until after the class, to avoid any potential dramatic confrontation. If Erin knew who Pamela was, she might tell her where to go, and it would spoil everyone’s fun. Pamela may have had no control over Jerrell’s behavior, but I knew Erin, and she wouldn’t see it that way.

The class members got up and perused the items on the display table. Pinky elbowed my ribs to remind me we shared knowledge we should keep quiet about until the time was right. Erin stepped in beside me. “What kind of scene are you going for?”

I eyed a building that looked like an old country schoolhouse, or a church without a steeple, and picked it up. “This looks a lot like the school my parents went to when they were kids, before they closed the country schools and all the kids were sent to town schools. I think I’ll make a snow globe for them.”

Erin nodded. “After being in the business all those years, it’d probably be the first time anyone actually made one especially for them.”

“I’d say that’s true. How about you two? Any ideas?” I asked Pinky and Erin.

“I like this little princess with her pink dress. She’ll look good in my house,” Pinky said.

Erin smiled. “We should have guessed that, Miss Pinky.” She picked up a plastic piece and studied it. “Hmm. I think I’ll go with a kids’ sledding scene and use it as a display model for when we make them in my class. The children will like that.” She selected some trees to complete the scene.

Mark and Archie mingled in with the rest of us, examining the little figures and buildings and checking to see what everyone was picking. May helped the church ladies and we all had something chosen within minutes then sat back down at our workstations for the next step.

May walked around, nodding as she imagined the possibilities. “You’ve come up with a nice variety, class. We’ll design the scenes, then glue the pieces on the base.”

I looked around and noticed everyone was concentrating on arranging and rearranging the elements of their respective scenes on the heavy plastic globe bases. I set the schoolhouse, a group of three children holding books, a dog, and some pine trees on my own base. It looked good to me.

“When everyone is satisfied, we’ll glue the scenes in place with the hot glue guns.”

“I’ve never used one before,” the teenage girl said, and another class member shook her head.

“That’s quite all right. All we need to do is make sure you don’t burn yourself because the glue is very hot. I can tell you after getting it on my own fingers a time or two. All right. You can secure your figures in two ways. You’ll hold the figure you’re gluing with your set of forceps, and put a dab of glue either on the bottom of the figure or on the base where you plan to set the figure. I like to glue the base because then you avoid dripping the glue where you don’t want it. You don’t need to squeeze the glue gun trigger very hard at all. You only want a drop. Practice on your newspaper to get a feel for it.”

She moved to the supply of glue guns. “I’ve got one for each table. Here, let me get situated with the extension cords. They should all reach just fine, but be careful if you stand up not to trip on one.” Mark left his viewing stool to help her, but an incoming phone call interrupted him. He pulled his cell phone out of its holder and stepped outside to take the call.

I went with May’s suggestion, doing a practice squeeze, then I held each of my figures, one at a time, over the spot I wanted to place it, applied a dab of glue there, and set it in place. Some people struggled a little; others were quicker draws with their glue guns. Erin and Pinky were both more adept than I was. Erin did crafts with her class, and Pinky was a bit of an artist with her baking.

“So we’ll see how the snow is coming along.” May looked at the clear glass pan, and we all followed suit. It seemed the snow making was a success. “When you are ready, the next steps work together. You’ll put a thin line of glue around the outside edge of the base, then we’ll add the snow-filled water to your globes and attach the base to the bottom of the globe. And I have more supplies if any of you want to make two. You can just reimburse me the extra amount.”