a number of room boxes, and she's insisting she's going to restore the room boxes to their original forms."
Gretchen heard a hiss from Wobbles and a yelp from Tutu. Nimrod, the teacup poodle, was sound asleep in his bed, oblivious to the disagreement. Nina lunged from her seat and distracted the two warriors. She shooed Wobbles out of the workshop, closed the door, and fussed over her darling pet.
Nina reassured herself that Tutu had survived her brush with death. "Okay," she said, "where were we? What are these room boxes you were talking about?"
"They're usually little displays that contain a miniature scene. Like those dioramas kids make from shoe boxes, but much more sophisticated," Gretchen explained. "A living room with all the furnishings, for example, or the inside of a store, like a pet shop. All with very realistic miniature scale details."
"You mean like rooms in a dollhouse?"
"Not exactly, but close. Each room box is self-contained and can be an entirely different setting with no relationship to any others. What makes them really unique are all the tiny pieces of furniture and accents that go inside the room boxes. Some hobbyists are extremely creative and make their own furnishings."
"Humph . . ." Nina leaned on the worktable, flashing her polka-dotted pink and green nails. How long would it have taken to paint on all the little polka dots? Probably hours, Gretchen thought.
"And your mother wants to fix them?" Nina asked. Gretchen shrugged. "It all depends on the police investigation. If they aren't sure Charlie died from natural causes, who knows when they will be through with her shop?"
"If putting the room boxes together helps Caroline through her grief, I'll be there to help my sister."
"Oh, right."
Aunt Nina didn't know a thing about dolls. She trained miniature dog breeds to travel in their owners' purses, teaching them to duck down and hide if they entered an unfriendly environment like a restaurant or grocery store. It was a perfect career for her. She had no competition and no real overhead costs. Nina had created her very own exclusive service industry, and she had more clients than she could manage. But dolls?
No way.
Her aunt kept herself busy training dogs, perfecting her psychic abilities, and matching her accessories to her outfits, not necessarily in that order.
"Don't forget I've been hanging around with doll collectors," Nina said, as though she knew exactly what Gretchen was thinking. "I love to decorate, and you and Caroline know everything there is to know about doll repair. I'll be able to tell you where all the pieces go. We'll be a great team. I'm getting a psychic message right this minute." Nina's long fingers connected with her forehead in a telepathic pose. After listening hard, she said, "We were meant to do it."
In Gretchen's opinion, Nina's psychic abilities were entirely trumped up. None of her aunt's otherworldly announcements had ever amounted to anything.
"I don't know if we should," Gretchen replied. "What about all the work piling up right here?"
"Between the three of us, it won't take long," Nina argued.
"I'm sure April would like to help, too. That would speed it up."
April was the Phoenix Dollers' favorite doll appraiser. She wore tent-sized muumuus, drove a banged-up white Buick, and lived in a dilapidated house in Tempe. She didn't care for any material possessions except for her prized collection of miniatures. Gretchen chuckled to herself every time she envisioned the large woman engulfing a mini doll in her chubby hands.
"April," Nina repeated the name acidly. "She's always hanging around. This should be just family."
"But April collects miniatures. She'd bring a lot of experience to the project."
"She should stick to appraising dolls."
"I thought you liked April."
"I do. We've just been seeing too much of her."
Gretchen glanced sharply at her aunt, who had been uncharacteristically catty lately. If she didn't know better, she'd think Nina was jealous of the time Gretchen spent with April.
Gretchen lifted the dress on Charlie's penny doll and noted the stamp on the doll's back. "Charlie's doll is fascinating," she said. "See the stamp on its body? It was made in Germany some time in the very early 1900s, one of the more expensive penny dolls. April could tell us more."
Nina scowled at another mention of April's name.
"Wait . . ." She paused dramatically. "I feel something coming in. Yes, you need a reading."
"A reading?" Oh, no. I have to keep my aunt away from New Age shops. Over time, Nina had progressed from analyzing colored auras to communication