The Beautiful Things Shoppe

by Philip William Stover

  “Looks like you’re feeling better,” I say colder than the night air that swirls around us.

  “Yeah,” he says. Is it possible he, for once, is out of words? Usually sentences just flow out of his mouth but now he’s quiet. I wonder if he knows I found out he lied to me. “To tell you the truth I wasn’t really sick. I was avoiding you because...”

  “You’re going to start telling me the truth. Now?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks sheepishly. I stare at him, knowing he can see the hurt in my eyes because his face suddenly drops. His usual bubble and spark evaporate.

  “Uhm, I guess you are referring to...” The words get stuck in his mouth like marbles caught in a funnel.

  “I’m referring to the fact that your family owns a billion-dollar corporation and you led me to believe that you came from a working-class family like I did.”

  “I never lied to you,” he says and then he looks down at the ground. “At least not directly.”

  “You led me to believe you struggled to make ends meet. You told me your dad worked with food, not that he owns a global food empire. There’s a difference.”

  “I know,” he says looking down.

  “You told me he works on cars.”

  “That’s true. He does. He loves cars. Always has. I swear it. He has a garage full of European sports ca—” Danny stops short.

  “You seemed to have left out that last part when you told me about it.” I can feel my face twisting in anger.

  “You’re right. I did leave that part out. And I know it was intentional. I wanted you to make the assumptions you made.” Danny can barely look at me.

  “So you admit it? You intentionally lied to me.” I snap my head toward the street so I don’t have to look at him.

  “No, it wasn’t like that, at least not exactly.”

  “What are you talking about?” I ask. I’m hoping there is some explanation that can make all this Sturm und Drang go away.

  “Guys find out my family is loaded and they start treating me differently.” Danny looks at the ground and I can tell it’s hard for him to get the words out.

  “Is that what you thought I would do?” I ask, completely hurt that he might think that of me.

  “No, not after I got to know you. Not at all,” he says. His eyes are pleading with me and it makes me want to believe him.

  “So why not tell me?”

  Danny takes a deep breath and then looks up at the sky. I want to put my arm around him to comfort him but I’m too hurt by his deception to do it with sincerity. “In past relationships,” he starts, “I used to throw the money around and use it to make the guy happy or solve the guy’s problems. I once bought this guy I was seeing a boat.” He shrinks a bit from what I imagine is embarrassment.

  “You bought someone a boat?”

  “Not a big one but yes. It wasn’t that I wanted him to be impressed by the money. I mean he was. It was a freakin’ boat but that’s not why I did it. I couldn’t stop myself from being this needy people pleaser so the relationships were always lopsided and doomed.”

  “That’s not how you acted around me. We never felt lopsided like that,” I say still confused about everything.

  “I know and I liked it. You never made me feel like I was losing myself that way and it was wonderful. I got to show you myself without the money and it felt like a relief. I got to show you who I really am.” He slowly raises his head to finally make eye contact like a small animal outside the nest for the first time.

  “But did you?” I ask. “You showed a part of who you are and kept another part hidden. That’s not what I wanted.” I’m looking him square in the eyes. “I wanted all of you. I hate being lied to but it’s worse to think that you felt you had to hide something from me. I thought trust only worked if both sides participated. Why would you keep so much a secret from me?”

  “I—I...” Danny is stuck on the words again.

  I’m aching over the fact that this was an intentional lie. Was he trying to trick me into liking him? Anger rises in me and I can’t stop it. “I’ll tell you why. You did it because you didn’t trust me enough. I was opening myself up to you every day and you were just lying to me. I never lied to you—not once.”

  Danny

  “Then why did I see you and Worth in the store the other day?” I ask. I know I should have been more honest about my background but Prescott’s the real reason we’ve fallen apart. His actions caused this whole thing to avalanche like an out of control boulder down Main Street.

  “I was just meeting with him to help save the buildings.” Now Prescott is the one looking uncomfortable. He bites his lower lip and I imagine he is wondering how he can do damage control.

  “How? By kissing him?” My words are like little darts. “I came back to get something and through the window I saw the two of you in a rather intimate position. That’s why I left and why I’ve been avoiding you. That’s why I haven’t been coming into the shop. I saw you there with him when you knew I would be out of the store. If there is anyone who has been misleading, it’s you.”

  “I’m sorry you saw that,” he says, and his voice comes out weak but sincere.

  “I’m sure you are,” I say with a nasty tone to cover up how hurt I am.

  “If you had just asked me about it I would have told you I want nothing to do with him.”

  I shake my head and look away. “Telling me and showing me are two different things. I see how you arrange things in the shop. You love a perfect set. Matching ugly candlesticks, matching boring china sets, matching dull-as-mud doorknobs. Match. Match. Match. That’s what you want. You want things that go together in a tasteful combination. You don’t think it would ever work between us.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Is it? You think things that belong together are from the same studio, the same artists, the same style, the same century and I don’t think that. Look at what you collect. You’re always looking for a match. Like that dumb mug. You had to have it to complete your set.”

  “You bought it,” he says, a tremble of disappointment in his voice.

  “You’re right. I did. But you can have it. I don’t want it. You and Worth can drink out of it together.”

  “Danny! I do not want Worth. I want you. Can’t you see that? Please. I made a mistake meeting him and that kiss was him invading my personal space. I never want to see him again.”

  I look at Prescott carefully. He isn’t just explaining what happened. He’s pleading with me.

  I have no ability to make good decisions about men but maybe Prescott has changed that. Maybe he is one of the good ones. Arthur seems to think so and if I can’t trust my own instincts maybe I should be able to trust someone who might know better.

  “I guess I should have given you a chance to explain,” I say feeling a potential thaw in my attitude. Maybe he really does want to build something special with me and saying that he never wants to see Worth again makes me think he wants to focus on us. “Do you mean it? Do you really want to start something serious here?”

  “Yes,” he says and I can sense the relief in his voice. “Yes. Worth means nothing to me. Worth is... Worth!”

  He says the name a second time with a sudden jolt of surprise and he stares beyond my left shoulder. I turn around and there in front of me is Hot Lips in camel hair.

  “Why hello, Press. Sorry, I’m late for our drink. Would you believe the heated driveway at my mother’s chose now to break? We had to call the handyman to shovel us out. He’s sixty-eight and it took him forever. What a bother.” Worth suddenly sees me, which is surprising because I think I might be invisible to him. “The two of you are almost joined at the hip. Well, I won’t interrupt the shoptalk. Literally, shoptalk.” He laughs at his own joke like Narcissus staring at his reflection in the water. “Take your time, Press. I�
�ll get us a booth by the fireplace. Something private.” He aims that last part directly at me, like an assassin.

  Worth leaves and we are alone on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant in silence. I look at Prescott and can’t comprehend how close I was to believing him. To trusting him. “I don’t want to keep you from your date,” I say with disgust.

  “Danny, wait. It’s not a date. Let me explain,” he says.

  “I can’t believe it. You tricked me. Again. How stupid you must think I am, stalling outside while your date with Worth is just minutes away. You tell me you never want to see him again when you have a date with him tonight?” I’m so devastated that I can barely put the sentences together. The words just fly out of my mouth in a reckless attempt to attack him and protect myself. “You and Worth. I just can’t... How could you? How am I supposed to believe your explanation or anything you say?”

  Prescott blinks and I don’t know if it’s a result of the cold air or trying to fight back tears. “I can’t believe you. Again you don’t give me a chance to explain. You just jump to your own conclusion. Trust has to start somewhere and if you aren’t willing to do that then you’re the one who doesn’t want to get serious,” he says slowly, turning my words back on me.

  Whatever thaw we felt a few seconds ago has halted. It feels like we are back where we started making assumptions and insulting each other. I can’t stand here on the sidewalk while Worth is sitting at some cozy table waiting for Prescott. It’s just too painful.

  “I need to go and you don’t want to keep Worth waiting,” I say and turn and walk away from him as quickly as I can. He’s made his choice. A sharp wind snaps around the corner and suddenly the tears that have started down my cheek are blown away. I feel like the frozen tundra—cold, uninviting and lonely.

  Chapter Thirty

  Prescott

  “Prescott, I’m so glad you could make it tonight. You look handsome as always,” Worth says as I enter the bar area of La Petite Fête. My head is still swimming. I’m angry, sad and hurt all at the same time. Before I came to this town my emotions were something I was able to control. Now they just spill out like Niagara Falls over a Limoges teacup. I have to use all of my effort to contain them.

  Worth is sitting by the fireplace in a burgundy wingback leather chair. I can tell immediately that it’s a reproduction. I try to focus on the chair and not the person sitting in it. I’m good at doing that, at least. I hate having to meet with him but I’ll be able to do what I should have done in the first place.

  As I take off my coat I think for a second that I see Danny entering and my heart leaps into my throat but it isn’t him.

  A waiter brings a charcuterie board that Worth must have ordered while my mind was elsewhere. “Press, are you alright? I’ve been going on and on and you’ve been staring at the fire and haven’t said a word.”

  I snap back to reality and push thoughts of Danny out of my head. “I’m fine,” I say and order a drink while Worth takes a phone call. I never drink but I hope the alcohol will help me forget about Danny.

  “Here’s your beer,” the waiter says, handing me a frosty mug. I grab it and take a sip. The bitterness of what I am assuming are the hops attacks my tongue sharply.

  “A beer?” Worth says with scorn. “What’s next? An order of wings or nachos?”

  Danny eats nachos for lunch on Fridays. That was one of his things. I’ll admit that at first the smell was a bit much but now I’d do anything to share a plate of chips and guac with him. I know he lied to me and I thought seeing him would make me furious but it didn’t. It made me miss him. It made me miss what I thought we could have. I look at my beer and think about how close we’ve gotten and how much I wanted to get even closer. I hate being deceived, but even knowing what he did I can’t help myself from saying what I’m about to say. It’s the right thing to do. I’m listening to my heart for one last time and then shutting the door.

  “I just want to be clear. You said that if I agreed to help you and met you here tonight you would save one of the buildings?”

  “Yes, of course. I told you that,” he says acting annoyed by my question.

  “Good because it’s the bank. The First Bank of Bucks. I want you to spare the midcentury building.” I admire and respect the Yardley House but Danny loves the First Bank of Bucks. I could never tell Worth to destroy it.

  Worth is frozen. He finally takes a sip of his cocktail slowly and then puts it down and snaps at the waiter. He points at his glass to order another. He pauses and then a small manufactured giggle comes out of his mouth. “Press, you know I hate jokes. Stop it.”

  “It’s not a joke. I couldn’t be more serious. I want you to save the bank. You said you only need one lot and they can be separated so save the bank.”

  Worth looks at me like he’s just found out the Dow Jones dropped a quarter. “That bank is hideous. How could you not want to save the beautiful one?”

  I know he won’t understand and I don’t owe him any explanation but I tell him the truth anyway. “Beauty isn’t just how something looks. It’s how it makes you feel and this building makes someone I know feel a great deal of joy.”

  There is a silence and then Worth starts laughing. Loud. He can barely stay seated on his chair. I’m not sure if it’s the cocktails or my pronouncement. He finally gets a hold of himself and then says through the remaining giggles, “That was a very lovely thought. You should use that on an Insta account to inspire the ugly or something, but I’m afraid I can’t save the bank. Good lord. The bank?”

  “Why not? You said I could save one. Why not the bank?”

  “Enough about that preposterous bank. It’s too late.” The waiter attempts to put down his next drink but before he can reach the table Worth grabs it and finishes half of it. “Do you want to know a secret?” he asks and I can tell the liquor is having quite an effect on him. I don’t say anything. I am steely cold. “Aww, c’mon. I’ll tell you anyway. No one’s going to touch the Yardley House. It was never in any real danger. I mean, at first we were going to destroy both of them but once the engineers figured out how to keep the supports in place we realized we only had to flatten the bank. We’ll build taller, it’ll be cheaper and I’ve already signed the papers so we get a tax abatement.” He finishes the rest of his drink.

  “Are you serious? You already saved the Yardley House. When did you find all this out?” I can feel the blood rising to my head. My heart is pounding.

  “Right after that ridiculous city council thing.” Worth gestures like he’s swatting a fly.

  “So tonight is a setup. You knew this when you met me at the shop?”

  “Guilty,” he says making a pretend frown like a little boy. “I’ve been a bit naughty, but you’re even sexier when you’re angry so where’s the harm?”

  “Stop it,” I say. What a complete and total jackass. He lied just to manipulate me. I think about accusing Danny of lying to me and by comparison it doesn’t seem like the same thing at all.

  “What’s the big deal? You got what you wanted and I should get what I want.”

  In a flash he moves his face closer to mine and without warning puts his hand on my leg. Without thinking I throw him off me with so much force his arm slams against the table.

  “What’s wrong with you?” he asks.

  I stand up and the words tumble out. “To be honest with you I have trouble trusting people and it’s difficult for me to open up. Other than that I’m fine.” I grab my coat from the back of my chair.

  “Fine, run off to that Dan person and his grotesque bigfoot T-shirts.” He spits the words out like bitter seeds.

  I think about Danny at the city council meeting all passion and determination in his favorite T-shirt. I turn back to Worth with pure venom.

  “It’s Chewbacca on that shirt, not Sasquatch. Chewy is a Wookie from the planet Kashyyyk, you moron.” The
phrase comes out of my mouth and I have no idea how I know that. I’ve listened to Danny go on about Chewy while we were at the store, but I had no idea I was actually listening so well.

  “Tell Dan and all your other friends out here that they should say goodbye to the bank because the bulldozers will be there tomorrow morning and a little protest won’t make a difference.”

  I walk away from Worth without looking back. I can’t believe what a mess I’ve made of everything.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Prescott

  I walk past the shop but keep my head turned away from it. I can’t bear to look inside. I’ll see him everywhere in there and it would be too painful. I keep my head down staring at the slushy sidewalk when I bump into someone.

  “Prescott, quite a chilly night to be out studying slush piles,” Arthur says and I look up.

  “Oh, sorry. Hi, Arthur.” I wonder if I am the only one who didn’t know how rich Danny is. I assume Arthur knows that I have been played for a fool but I need to find out. “Arthur, did you know about Danny?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t tell you that Danny is such a warm, kind and open person because I wanted you to find out on your own.”

  I did find that out. I found out he’s the best person I’ve ever met but that is nullified if he doesn’t want to be honest with me.

  “No, not that,” I say. “The family stuff.”

  “Oh, that,” Arthur says rolling his eyes and letting out a puff of air that immediately makes a small cloud in front of his face. “You mean the money?”

  “Yes,” I say quietly, knowing that I must be the only dunce who doesn’t know. “Why didn’t you tell me who he is?”

  “I just did.” Arthur steadies himself with his cane, grabbing the silver dog’s head. “He’s warm, funny and open.”