Upcycled Life

The opening rush of customers at the Winter Craft Jubilee could charitably be described as “three people and a baby stroller.” But in Pine Knot County, that counted as foot traffic, and the retirees behind their tables snapped into performance mode faster than a Channel 8 weatherman during tornado season. “Morning, folks!” “Handmade ornaments — two for five!” “Don’t touch that one, it’s glued!” Everyone acted normal. Everyone pretended everything was fine. But every single vendor kept glancing toward the back curtain — that drooping, velvet-ish flap that now hung still and ominous, like it was hiding a secret nobody wanted. I tried focusing on my own display table. My crocheted scarves lay neatly arranged in rainbow rows, and my cinnamon-wax sachets gave off a sweet, homey smell. But every time my mind calmed, a little whisper rose up: Where is Lila Mae? And more importantly: What did she knock over back there? My stepfather, Henry, was already on edge. He kept nudging me w...