Free High Strung: A Glass Bead Mystery (The Glass Bead Mystery Series) by Janice Peacock Page B

gesturing wildly at her, “and I’ll go take care of this ,” I continued, gesturing again, this time pathetically, at myself with the untucked t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers I’d thrown on this morning. At least I had a nice necklace to camouflage the small, white specks from the donut holes I’d eaten earlier.
    As I headed out the door , I could hear Val yell, “Don’t forget to wear something nice and prett—” I shut the door quickly, before she finished giving me her advice.
    I was relieved I didn ’t have to do the fairy godmother thing after all, because now I had more time to get ready for my workshop—and more time trying to put myself together for the party.

     
    TEN
    On the rare occasion when I need to dress up, my standard party attire is black from head to toe, or at least from cleavage to knee. But today, for some reason, I couldn’t get behind that fashion choice. Instead, I went with red. Full on, fire engine red. I knew that I was never going to be this young again. I was getting older every second, so I might as well be bold. At least for one night.
    I had a cute dress I’d never had the guts to wear, but I thought I’d finally whip it out for tonight’s party. The dress was a wrap-around style, and it was great, because it could expand or contract based on my current size. Val had been making some great desserts recently, even some of the failed ones were delicious. I was glad the dress had this valuable feature, given my recently expanded size. Val, as might have been expected, had helped me pick this dress, and while she was comfortable flaunting her own voluptuous features, I must admit I wasn’t comfortable looking this curvy in public.
    I pulled on my trusty Spanx to hold all the curves in the right places, jumping up and down and holding the waistband to squeeze myself into them.
    Then I put on the biggest red necklace I’d ever made. Each of the eleven spherical beads in the necklace had a red core and a layer of gold leaf. On top of the gold was a thick layer of crystal clear glass, and tiny flowers and vines swirled around the outside of each bead. Between each of the larger orbs was a small gold disk that coordinated with the gold leaf deep inside each of the glass beads.
    I knew it was important to wear a great necklace tonight . There’d be designers and wholesale buyers at Rosie’s reception. I hoped by wearing this fabulous necklace to show off my work, someone might want to place an order right there on the spot. If the price were right, I’d sell this necklace right off my body. I could always make another one. I put on a matching bracelet and the tallest black pumps I owned—not that tall, really, because I was a wimp when it came to high-heels.
    I fluffed up my short hair. I ’d always worn my hair past my shoulders, but these days I was wearing it in a pixie-cut following a small incident earlier this year when I had leaned inside a hot kiln and singed my bangs. On a good hair day, I looked like Tinker Bell. On a bad hair day, I looked like Billy Idol. Fortunately, today was a Tinker Bell day.
    My light brown hair was getting blonder by the year, because every time the gray hairs started overtaking the brown ones, I went to Val’s salon and had her eradicate them with a few highlights. She always pleaded with me to let her do something new to my hair—low-lights or a Brazilian blowout. And lately she’d been going on and on about ombre, whatever that meant. I always resisted.
    I swept some bronzer across my cheeks. Since I ’d moved to Seattle I missed having a little tan on my face. Thanks to my Irish genes, I usually burned and freckled, but I did like the rosy glow I could get from being out in the sun each day. I added a swipe of mascara and some tinted lip balm, and I was ready to go. I knew Val would be disappointed I didn’t go full-throttle with glitter eye shadow and burgundy lips, but I had become pretty low-maintenance during the last few years, and