by ID Johnson
Making her away around the back of her SUV, Melody popped the door and pulled the box of carnival glass out, carefully balancing it on her hip as she clicked the button for the door to close. After situating the Santas, she’d decided to return to the mess upstairs and work on getting some more items to the store. She couldn’t get back into the attic, after all, so her December 1 decorating had dwindled. At least she’d been able to get this box ready and do some research on a couple more items, as well as update their website and post to several social media sites enticing potential clients to pay the shop a visit.
Unlike the Santas, this box actually was heavy, and she was careful of her footing as she stepped up onto the sidewalk and hurried toward the shop. The city had begun decorating the area the day after Thanksgiving, and the festive bows and lights brought a smile to her lips as she hustled along, careful not to run into anyone coming the opposite direction down the pathway.
Reaching the antique shop door, she backed into it, pushing it open as she did so, the familiar tinkle of the same bell that had hung there since her dad was a little boy letting her mother know she had arrived.
Sarah Murphy was slightly shorter than her daughter, with hair the same brown, which she wore cut short, strands of gray framing her face. While Melody was fairly certain she glimpsed her future in the face of her mother, they didn’t look exactly alike; Sarah’s eyes were a warm brown and her nose pointed up at the end while Melody had her father’s nose and his bright green eyes.
“Hi, honey,” Sarah called as she came around the counter.
“Hi,” Melody replied, spinning her way through the door and looking around desperately for a place to set the box.
“Let me help you,” Sarah said, rushing over and grabbing two corners of the box. Together, they were able to gently lower the heavy container to the ground.
Straightening, Melody brushed her hair off of her forehead. Even though it was quite chilly outside, rushing around in her thick winter coat and stocking cap had brought a glisten to her forehead. “Thanks, Mom. It’s some more of the carnival glass.”
“Oh, good,” Sarah said, glancing down at the box as if doing so would give her an idea of exactly what was inside it. “We’ve sold several pieces the last few days. I hope there’s space on the shelf.”
Melody didn’t bother to point out that she had brought in the carnival glass to replace the pieces her mother had sold. When she was younger, that would have been just the sort of statement that would have drawn her into an argument. Now, despite the trials living with one’s mother often forced upon an independent adult, Melody seldom bickered with her mom. She had been through a lot, and it had been Melody’s choice to move back home, after all, even if she had only done so because otherwise, she was fairly certain her mother would be forced to pack up everything she had and move to Chicago to live with her.
“How have sales been today?” Melody asked, looking around the store. She could tell her mom had moved some merchandise. A few of the items she’d brought in over the last couple of weeks were missing.
“Good,” Sarah said. “Let me get the dolly and we’ll move that box to the back. Maybe I can get the dishes on the shelf tomorrow morning.”
While Melody thought it might make more sense to get them out and put them directly on the shelf now—they were all tagged and ready to go after all—she waited for her mom to get the dolly. There were no customers in the store just now, and glancing at her watch, she saw that it was almost time to close up.
“Here we go,” Sarah said, wheeling over the smaller of the two dollies they had on-hand.
“I’ll get it,” Melody insisted. She scooped the box up and made sure it was balanced before she started to carefully wheel it through the only open aisle of the store.
“I got a bit of Christmas decorating done today,” Sarah called as Melody made her way toward the stock room in the back.
“I saw. The garland over the door looks nice.” She pushed the swinging door open with her hand and then wheeled the box through. Though there were several other boxes back here that needed to be unpacked, she knew her mother was very particular about how much of one certain type of item she displayed at a time, so she found a home for the box of carnival glass and put the dolly back in its spot. A quick glance around let her know that she needn’t bother to bring any other dishes, clocks, or costume jewelry with her tomorrow.
With one final glance around, Melody made her way back. The tinkle at the door alerted her that a customer had come in, and her mother greeted the couple who went off to look at some of the items in a display case on the other side of the store.
“Look, they have that flyer you printed up,” Sarah whispered, coming to lean on the counter next to Melody. “And lots of people have said they saw your ad on the Facebook.”
Melody bit her lip, refusing to laugh at her mother’s lack of social media expertise. “That’s great,” she said. Checking the time on her phone, she realized she’d need to hurry if she was going to make it to the hardware store. “I’ve gotta go.”
“Oh, where to?” her mother asked, watching the couple to see if they needed any help.
“The door knob fell off the attic door this morning.”
“What? It fell off?”
“Yeah, I’m going to run over to Peterson’s and see if they have a kit,” Melody said, adjusting her coat.
“Why don’t you call that new handyman Mrs. Gregory is always raving about?” Sarah asked, her eyebrows arched. “She says he can fix anything.”
“Mom, you know we can’t really afford that,” Melody said quietly. “Hopefully, they’ll have some kit with simple to follow directions, and I can fix it myself.”
“Or you’ll waste money on parts, not be able to fix it, and end up calling him anyway,” Sarah muttered.
Melody was already on her way to the door. “Let me see if Mr. Peterson has any suggestions,” she said, giving her mother a wave and escaping into the crisp winter air. While her mother might have a point, it wouldn’t hurt to at least go see if it was something she could do herself before hiring an over-priced handyman to come put a patch on it, which would only hold so long before she would have to have it fixed again.
Peterson’s Hardware had been in the same little building across the street and down about a block almost as long as Murphy’s Antiques and Collectibles had been around. If anyone could explain to her how to fix the door knob, it was Mr. Peterson. She stopped at her car to get her purse and then began the short walk to the store.
On her way, she passed her friend Delaney’s bakery—aptly named Delaney’s Delights. She could see her inside behind the counter, chatting to a customer, a huge smile on her face. Any other time, Melody would stop and talk to her good friend, but not right now. She needed to hurry before the hardware store closed. Delaney also had long brown hair, and in school, everyone joked that they could be twins. Now, with that broad smile and her carefree attitude, Melody thought they probably looked nothing alike at all.
Melody’s father had taught her to find the music in everything, and as she walked along, the sounds of the cars passing, people calling to each other, and the swish of her coat all sounded like a disjointed song. She wished she could push those thoughts out of her head. The idea of music without her father was like a song with no melody. Even the bell above the hardware store reminded her of the music her father had taught her to love, music she could no longer enjoy.
The lights in the hardware store were bright, she imagined so that people could more easily search for just the right nut or bolt, and she squinted a bit as she made her way inside. Behind the counter, she saw a disinterested high-school-aged girl with shoulder length blonde hair, peering down behind the counter intently, one hand twirling her hair while the other likely held a cell phone she wasn’t supposed to be using at work.
“Hi, Rylee,” Melody called as she approached. “Is your dad here?”
Rylee looked up, startled. “Oh, hi, Miss Mu
rphy. No, he’s not here right now. I have after school shift all week.”
“Oh,” Melody said with a sigh. “Okay, thanks.”
“Is there something I can help you with?” Rylee asked, though her tone implied she hoped the answer was no.
Melody glanced around the shop and saw a few other customers. She was pretty certain the door knobs and accessories were in the back. “I think I’ll just have a look around.”
“Okay,” Rylee shrugged, and as Melody made her way down the nearest aisle, she heard a vibrating sound that could only be the buzz of a secret cell phone.
The door knobs were in the back as she expected, but upon closer inspection, she had no idea exactly what she needed. There were kits that said they contained complete assemblies, some for indoor, some for outdoor. There were also various parts. Melody picked up a few of the packages and looked them over, but they all appeared to be very complicated. Even if she chose the right one, would she have any idea how to put the door knob on?
“Hi.”
A high pitched, squeaky voice took her by surprise, and Melody jumped. She looked around, and at first saw no one, but then she realized she was looking too high. Standing next to her, below waist height, was the cutest little cherub-faced blond boy she’d ever seen. “Hi,” she said, smiling.
“Whatcha doing?” he asked, looking up at her with big blue eyes. He wore a dark blue winter coat, his mittens hanging from strings through each sleeve, his hood flapping behind him.
“I’m looking at door knobs,” she said, trying not to let her irritation filter down to the little inquisitor.
“Michael?” she heard a male voice call, and Melody looked up to see a matching pair of bright blue eyes. The man wore a dark brown work coat over a shirt almost the same color as those eyes, and with his sandy blond hair and athletic build, Melody caught herself staring and quickly closed her mouth.
“Hi, Dad,” the little boy—Michael—called. “I was just looking at door knobs.”
“Door knobs?” the man repeated. “I told you to stay with me.”
“Sorry,” he shrugged and then turned to Melody and flashed a smile.
The man was talking to her now, and Melody tried to focus on what he was saying instead of continuing to stare. “I’m so sorry. He’s a bit… precocious.”
“Oh, no, it’s fine,” she stammered. “He’s adorable.”
“Thank you,” Michael grinned up at her.
His dad looked at him for a moment and shook his head before he added, “Yes, thank you. Come on, Michael, let’s leave this lady alone.” He took his son gently by the shoulder and pulled him back a step.
“But Dad,” Michael protested, “she needs our help.”
Melody had attempted to return her attention to the two door knob kits she was holding, looking back and forth between them as if she had any idea what she was even looking for. “Oh, yeah. No, it’s okay,” she stammered. “I mean… how hard can it be to pick out a door knob?” Then, under her breath, she muttered, “Unless you’re a door knob yourself.”
He was standing next to her now, and if he had heard her last comment, he didn’t say anything in response. Looking at what she had in her hands, he asked, “Well, what kind of door knob was your old one?”
She glanced up and caught his eyes. They were a shade of blue she couldn’t remember ever seeing before, reminding her of the sky on a clear day. “Oh, uh, well, it’s…” she fumbled with the two kits and ended up setting them down on top of a stack of door knob parts. “It’s this one.” She pulled the old door knob out of her purse.
Taking the door knob from her, he turned it over in his hands. “Do you have the other half?” he asked.
“Yes,” Melody assured him. “It’s at home. In the attic. That’s where we usually keep it—only it’s usually attached to this part.”
He laughed, a rich chuckle, and Melody realized that Michael was also giggling, likely because his dad was. “Well, if you have the complete door knob, you should probably just repair it.” He turned it over again, inspecting it closely, before handing it back to her. “I assume you live in an older home, and if that’s the original door knob, you should probably keep it.”
“This is Charles Town,” Melody smiled. “Everyone lives in an older home.”
“True,” he nodded.
His smile was a bit crooked, pulling up at one side of his handsome face slightly more than the other. Melody realized she was staring again. “Well, I would like to keep it, I guess,” she admitted. “I just have no idea how to fix it. I mean, I doubt I’ll be able to figure out how to install a new one either, but I figured that would at least come with directions.”
“It’s really not that difficult,” he replied. “You probably just need one of these,” he said handing her a little package that seemed to contain a few screws and a plate of some sort.
Melody looked at the little package and then back up at him. “Okay…” she said. “But what do I do?”
“You can fix it, Dad,” Michael chimed in, tugging on his father’s coat sleeve. Then to Melody, he added, “My dad can fix anything.”
She could tell by the man’s expression that he wished his son hadn’t volunteered his services, the hesitation showing in the deep breath he held in and then the sigh he slowly released. “Oh, that’s okay,” Melody began, “I don’t want to be any trouble. I should probably just call a handyman. I just… things have been tight. Anyway, maybe between my mom and I, we can figure it out.”
“No, I can do it,” he offered, giving his son a narrowed look. “It’s really not any trouble at all,” he added, flashing Melody a meager smile.
“Clearly, you’re busy. I live over on Washington Avenue. I’d hate to make you drive all the way over there.”
“It’s really no trouble,” he assured her, “and that’s not even that far.”
“And the house is a mess….”
He laughed again. “If you really don’t want me to fix it, I understand, but it will only take a few minutes, and I really don’t mind.”
She glanced down at Michael, whose smile lit the room more brightly than the fluorescent overhead lights. “Okay,” she agreed, with a smile. “I’m Melody, by the way,” she said, fumbling the door knob and the repair kit into her left hand so she could offer her right.
“Reid,” he said, taking her hand.
Melody felt her heartbeat quicken as tingles spread up her arm. She realized she was staring again, and if it weren’t for a tug on her jacket, she may have continued to gaze into his eyes for an even more embarrassing amount of time.
“I’m Michael,” the smallest voice said, and Melody let go of Reid’s hand to pat him on the head.
“I know,” she said. “It’s very nice to meet you.” Glancing back up at his dad, she added, “Both of you.”
Melody gave them her address and then went up front to pay, hearing Reid say something to Michael about grabbing a hinge. A few minutes later, she had the repair kit in her hand and was back on the street, happy that the fresh December air seemed to take away the heat from her face. Taking in a deep breath, she slowly released it, and squaring her shoulders, she headed back to her car, reminding herself he was only coming over to fix her door knob—not to sweep her off of her feet. “Besides,” she muttered under her breath, “he’s probably married. He has a son. He’s got to be married.” I wish they had a simple repair kit for broken people.
“Where does Miss Melody live?” Michael asked from the back seat of Reid’s red Sierra.
Glancing in the mirror, he could see that his son had broken into Mrs. Gregory’s cookies and a smear of yellow frosting streaked across his cheek. “Not too far from us, down the street from Ms. Karen’s house,” he replied.
“I like Miss Melody,” the little boy added between chomps of the star-shaped cookie. “She’s pretty.” Reid said nothing, keeping his thoughts to himself, until Michael insisted, “You think she’s pretty, too, don’t you, Daddy?”
&nbs
p; “Yes, I guess she is pretty,” Reid said with a shrug. “Careful not to get crumbs all over your booster seat.”
“I know, Dad,” he said, sounding a little more like a tweenager than Reid would have liked. He was getting so big already. How could he possibly be in kindergarten?
They passed Ms. Karen’s house, where Michael went after school for a few hours each day, and Reid made a left-hand turn onto Washington Avenue. They were only a few blocks from their own home, and the houses on this street were even larger and more architecturally stunning than the one he had recently purchased. Moving to Charles Town had been a good idea for someone who loved to restore old homes and wanted to run away from an unpleasant past. He truly hoped this would be the fresh start he and Michael needed.
“Dad! Look!” Michael exclaimed, pointing out the window at a large inflatable snow globe containing a dancing snowman. Tiny white pieces of plastic simulated falling snow and encircled the jolly soul as he wiggled in a swirling winter wonderland.
“That’s pretty cool!” Reid replied, forcing as much fake enthusiasm into his voice as possible. While he attempted to enjoy the holidays for Michael’s sake and though he usually did a pretty good job of pretending, Christmas just wasn’t the same as it used to be. He would manage to get through the holidays, like he always did, but he was certainly one of those people who couldn’t wait to flip the calendar to January.
Checking the addresses on the mailboxes, Reid spied what must be Melody’s house just ahead on the right. It was a stately Queen Anne, absolutely stunning. Most of the house was built of brick with wooden architectural elements in white capping the second floor. A large turret stood on the left side of the house, and the expansive front porch looked inviting.
“Is this her house?” Michael asked, poking through the front seats.
Reid pulled his eyes away from the structure to address his son. “You unbuckled already?”
“We came to a full stop.”