Excerpt of Twelve Across by Barbara Delinsky

Leah Gates made a final fold in the blue foil paper, then
studied her creation in dismay. "This does not look like a
roadrunner," she whispered to the woman at the table
beside her.

Victoria Lesser, who'd been diligently folding a pelican,
shifted her attention to her friend's work. "Sure, it
does," she whispered back. "It's a roadrunner."

"And I'm a groundhog." Leah raised large, round glasses
from the bridge of her nose in the hope that a myopic view
would improve the image. It didn't. She dropped the frames
back into place.

"It's a roadrunner," Victoria repeated.

"You're squinting."

"It looks like a roadrunner."

"It looks like a conglomeration of pointed paper prongs."

Lifting the fragile item, Victoria turned it from side to
side. She had to agree with Leah's assessment, though she
was far too tactful to say so. "Did you get the stretched
bird base right?"

"I thought so."

"And the book fold and the mountain fold?"

"As far as I know."

"Then there must be some problem with the rabbit-ear fold."

"I think the problem's with me."

"Nuh-uh."

"Then with you," Leah scolded in the same hushed
whisper. "It was your idea to take an origami course. How
do I let myself get talked into these things?"

"Very easily.You love them as much as I do. Besides,
you're a puzzle solver, and what's origami but a puzzle in
paper? You've done fine up to now. So today's an off day."

"That's an understatement," Leah muttered.

"Ladies?" came a call from the front of the room. Both
Leah and Victoria looked up to find the instructor's
reproving stare homing in on them over the heads of the
other students. "I believe we're ready to start on the
frog base. Are there any final questions on the stretched
bird base?"

Leah quickly shook her head, then bit her lip against a
moan of despair. The frog base?

Victoria simply sat with a gentle smile on her face. By
the time the class had ended, though, the smile had faded.
Taking Leah by the arm, she ushered her toward the
door. "Come on," she said softly. "Let's get some coffee."

When they were seated in a small coffee shop on Third
Avenue, Victoria wasted no time in speaking her
mind. "Something's bothering you. Out with it."

Leah set her glasses on the table. They'd fogged up the
instant she'd come in from the cold, and long-time
experience told her they'd be useless for several minutes.
The oversize fuchsia sweater Victoria wore was more than
bright enough to be seen by the weakest of eyes, however,
and above the sweater was the gentlest of expressions. It
was toward these that Leah sent a sheepish look. "My frog
base stunk, too, huh?"

"Your mind wasn't on it. Your attention's been elsewhere
all night. Where, if I may be so bold as to ask?"

Leah had to laugh at that. In the year she'd known
Victoria Lesser, the woman had on occasion been far
bolder. But not once had Leah minded. What might have been
considered intrusive in others was caring in Victoria. She
was compassionate, down-to-earth and insightful, and had
such a remarkably positive view of the world that time
spent with her was always uplifting.