The Beautiful Things Shoppe

by Philip William Stover

  “Not that. I know that. Now. I mean...”

  “Prescott, that’s who he is. Yes, he comes from a wealthy family but that’s only a part of who he is. It no more defines him than your background defines who you are.”

  “But he didn’t tell me the truth,” I say.

  “You mean he isn’t warm and funny and open?” I know Arthur is being intentionally obtuse. “Maybe he wasn’t completely direct about his background but maybe he didn’t want to be judged for it or maybe he liked being seen without all the trappings of his family so he avoided the truth a bit. Maybe he was scared. I don’t believe he was trying to trick you.”

  I look down at the ground to gather my thoughts. Arthur is right. Danny wasn’t really trying to trick me, not like Worth. Worth is a liar, a manipulative brat. What Danny did is nowhere near the magnitude of Worth’s mendacity. He didn’t purposely manipulate me into believing something for his own gain. Danny would never try to trick me to get something out of me. He was protecting himself. I’ve been protecting myself from the world my whole life so I can understand that. I also finally understand what it means to open up a bit and connect with people and community and I’m not ready to give up on that.

  “What’s important is how you feel about him,” Arthur says and puts his hand on my shoulder. I think about how I felt waiting for him at Gaspo’s last week or when we sledded down the hill together or anytime the shop is empty and he insists on having a Disco Dance Break.

  Arthur smiles at me gently. “Danny is sweet, sometimes too sweet and he goes overboard. That means people take advantage of him. But I knew you wouldn’t do that.”

  “Never,” I say. “Wait...what do you mean you knew...did you...”

  “All I’m willing to admit on the record for now is that Danny never lied to you about who he is. Not who he really is inside.”

  I think about the Danny I have known and come to love these past few weeks and an uncharacteristically goofy smiles moves across my face.

  “It looks like you’ve got it bad too,” Arthur says.

  “What?”

  Arthur starts walking away and then sticks his cane in the snow and turns back to me. “L’amour. L’amour. Toujours l’amour.” He laughs and walks away.

  I’m feeling restless and confused. I don’t want to go back to my empty apartment so I just keep walking. My legs take me to the corner with the Bank of Bucks and the Yardley House. I stand between the two buildings and marvel at how wonderful they both are. The thought of one surviving without the other makes me deeply sad.

  I walk over to the First Bank of Bucks as if I need to apologize to it. I put my hand on one of the deep brown stones and bow my head. Then I put my other hand out like I’m almost hugging the building and when I look down I notice something I hadn’t seen before. The cantilevered stone wall is supported by shaped concrete. I don’t know why I hadn’t seen that detail before and if I did I certainly didn’t see it this close. Shaped concrete. I examine the structure carefully and try to remember everything I know about architecture in the twentieth century. I start reviewing the relationship of the parts to the whole as I would any fine antique and that helps me develop a hunch. A very important hunch.

  I quickly look to the cornerstone of the building to check the date. Just as I suspected. Shaped concrete and the date of the cornerstone make the synapses in my brain start firing. Maybe I can make things right. Maybe I can find a way to show Danny how I really feel about him, and this wonderful building can help me.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Danny

  I’d set my alarm extra early for the morning of the protest. I knew once it went off I’d want to go back to bed and forget that the day I’d been looking forward to for so long with Prescott was now something where I’d have to avoid him at all costs. My Bugs Bunny alarm clock rings and I slam my hand over the carrot. I can feel the cold early morning air on my nose and pull the comforter over my head. I don’t want to face the world.

  Lizard knocks on my door. “We have the protest thingy this morning,” she says from the hall. “We better get going.”

  I rip the covers off, hoping the cold will motivate me but it only makes me want to have Prescott put his arms around me and snuggle. I get out of bed, take a shower and do a terrible job of not thinking about him. Before I leave I make a plea to Lizard.

  “Maybe I should stay home?”

  “This will be good for you. You’ll be a part of something bigger than your own misery.”

  “There are entire countries that are smaller than my misery. Besides what’s the point? That guy Worth is just going to do what he wants anyway.”

  “Danny!” Lizard says like a slap in the face. “We make our voices heard together. You know a protest is about building the community and coming together. You are the one who taught me that. You’ve been telling everyone to never give up. You can’t let everyone down.”

  She’s right and even though the thought of having to leave the house is almost more than I can bear, I gather all of the signs I made and head out with Lizard. I’m hoping to firmly establish a spot to stand in so that Prescott will see where I am and not come within ten yards of me. I can avoid him for at least a few more hours. Eventually we have to go back to working together in the shop. I have no idea how I’ll be able to handle that. The truth is I miss him terribly, and what’s worse than missing someone who is seated a few feet away?

  As I approach the block where the protest is scheduled to take place I see a huge crowd and it temporarily energizes me. There are maybe three or four times the number we were expecting. They are all holding signs and have already begun chanting, “Don’t be a dope. Save New Hope.” I walk closer but the crowd is so big Lizard and I aren’t able to get that close to the actual buildings. Considering Prescott might be on the front lines I’m happy hiding in the back.

  I hear something in the distance in the direction of the river. The entire bridge is rumbling and I see three huge bulldozers driving across the bridge like some yellow army of destruction. I’m sure they are pushing the weight limit on the bridge and it causes the transom to vibrate in a way that almost sounds like crying. The crowd starts chanting louder and louder as the bulldozers ready themselves directly in front of the bank in the area that is cordoned off.

  A car behind me honks its horn repeatedly. I turn and see a black SUV flashing its lights. Lizard and I jump onto the sidewalk but the car stops just next to me and the window rolls down. “Come to see your bank go boom? You know a lot of people record things like this. You should get out your phone.”

  “Shut up Worth-less,” I snap back.

  I hear his phone ring from inside the car. I hear him answer it and say, “What do you mean the bulldozers have been halted? Some crazy person is climbing the fire escape to the roof? Well pull whoever it is off of there and tear that building down! I want to see fireworks!”

  “Not as easy as you thought, is it, Worth-less?” I hold my New Betta Hope poster above my head and join the crowd’s chant. “Don’t be a dope! Save New Hope!” I can’t imagine who was brave enough to scale the building until in the distance on the roof of the bank I see the figure of a man with blond hair wearing a tweed sport coat and holding a book.

  Prescott

  There was no way I was going to get everyone’s attention from street level. The crowd was too big to have my voice heard. Then I remembered there is a rickety old fire escape at the back of the building. I broke from the crowd and ran behind the building. I wasn’t thinking; I was just doing. It was my only chance to make everything right. I grabbed the rusty edges of the first ladder with one hand and held the most important book I’ve ever needed in the other. I got to the very top of the building and walked to the edge.

  Now I’m standing on the roof of the bank and I can see all of New Hope and the striped awning of our shop, and as I get closer to the edge I can see
the street below. Rather, I can’t see the street below because it is covered with people holding signs and chanting in protest. It’s a much bigger crowd than I thought from street level.

  My presence on the roof has halted the bulldozers at least temporarily. “Stop!” I yell as loud as I can. People below stop chanting and a few are pointing at me. I’m used to working in quiet libraries and hushed auction houses so shouting at the top of my lungs from the roof of a bank is way, way, way out of my comfort zone but I don’t care. I need to make this work. The greedy claw of the bulldozer is only a few yards away from the building and the guy driving it looks both confused and annoyed. Maybe he’s about to bury me under the rubble after the explosion.

  I see Worth holding a megaphone and parting the crowd like it’s the Red Sea. “Get out of the way! The bank goes and you get to save the historically significant one.”

  “Not so fast, Worth,” I warn him. “I can put all of this to end right now with what I have in my hand.” I hold up over my head the book I carried up. “But not until Danny Roman joins me up here. Danny, where are you? I know you’re out there. Danny? Danny?” I shout. The crowd picks up my cry and starts chanting: “Dan-ny! Dan-ny!”

  “Are you out of your mind?” I hear Danny shout from the street. He is just below me on the sidewalk looking up.

  “Maybe, but get up here. I want to show you something.”

  “But I’m wearing my good Crocs!” he shouts up to me.

  “I don’t care,” I shout back down and I really mean it.

  Danny makes his way to the back and climbs up to join me as the crowd keeps chanting his name. “Dan-ny! Dan-ny!” When he appears on top of the building my heart swells.

  I grab Danny’s hand and pull him toward the center of the roof so we can have a bit of a private moment. “Last night I noticed that the bank uses shaped concrete. I thought that was very peculiar because I know that detail is specific to a particular architect and time. I had never noticed it before because I always saw it from a distance. But when I was hugging the bank...”

  “You were hugging the bank?” he asks like I just told him I flew to the roof we are standing on.

  “Yes, but that’s a different story. Anyway, I spent hours looking through the archives at Princeton’s art history library. I’ve never been more grateful it’s open twenty-four seven because I was able to find this.” I open the book I have been holding and take out the papers I stuffed in it.

  I walk toward the edge of the roof and shout to the crowd. “Here in my hand is the original architectural plan for the bank. One architectural firm finished the building but the actual blueprint was created by another firm. This book and these documents verify everything.”

  “So what? Let’s get this building down,” Worth shouts from his bullhorn and he signals to the bulldozers.

  “The original blueprints were created by Marcel Breuer!” I shout.

  “Who?” Worth asks, like I just said Mickey Mouse made the building. People in the crowd who understand the importance of that name gasp just a bit.

  “The Marcel Breuer?” Danny asks me. “The guy who built the original Whitney Museum in New York and the IBM building in France not to mention the UNESCO world headquarters?”

  “Exactly,” I say looking into Danny’s eyes. Finally I think I understand the feeling that you can get when you really connect with someone and start to see the world through their eyes. I want to kiss him so bad but we need to get rid of these bulldozers first.

  I turn to the crowd again: “Marcel Breuer is the original architect of this building. I’m sure once we bring this to the attention of the state planning board they’ll be able to certify this as historically significant. You are aware of the fine that goes along with destroying this property?”

  “You don’t have any legal document. Where’s your stop work order?” Worth asks through the megaphone, but I can tell he knows he’s lost this round.

  “We don’t need one,” Danny shouts. “Legally you now have prior knowledge and intentionality which is all that is needed to be in violation of the zoning ordinance.” Danny rattles off the string of legal terms without missing a beat. I give him a look of confusion and he says to me, “In full disclosure I went to a semester of law school but didn’t like it. You have to be called on to speak and that didn’t work for me. I want to make sure you have the full picture.”

  “So noted,” I say smiling because I love his ability to mix humor into this whole mess.

  “This isn’t over,” Worth says. He makes a call, screams at someone and within a few minutes the bulldozers go back across the river like cockroaches retreating from the light. The crowd cheers. I turn to Danny and speak to him quietly.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I know meeting with Worth was asinine. I shouldn’t have done it. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I should have talked to you about it at the very least. And then last night I was still so upset because I thought you lied to me.”

  “I did lie to you. I mean I wasn’t completely honest about my background and family.”

  “But you didn’t lie to me about who you are. Not really. I realize that now,” I say. I’m so glad we are talking this through even if we are standing on the roof of a building that was about to be destroyed with a hundred people or so watching us from the street below. “You didn’t tell me about your background but that’s not who you are or it’s only a part of who you. You are the most honest person I’ve ever met because you share yourself wholly and completely with the people around you. What in the world is more honest than that?”

  “I’m sorry I assumed the worst of you with Worth,” Danny says. “I thought we were having this connection and when I thought you might be sharing a connection with Worth I overreacted.”

  “It’s easy to assume the worst with Worth and probably a good idea. I couldn’t stop feeling the feelings I have for you. I kept thinking about how the town had come together and how you and I had come together to save these two buildings that we both love. I realized I had to find a way to show you how I really feel.” I put the art history book and documents in his hand. “Now we can save the bank. I know how much you love it.”

  “I do,” he says with a big smile.

  “I never thought that I would appreciate a building like this but seeing it through your eyes has changed how I see the world. Danny, you’ve changed me. You’ve shown me that being honest about how I feel makes it easier to be part of the world. To connect to it.” I’m smiling so brightly I think it will melt the snow.

  “Well since we are being completely honest, I have a confession,” Danny says.

  My smile drops and I look straight ahead, bracing myself for whatever he’s going to say.

  He looks at me sheepishly and asks, “The Yardley House?”

  “Yes,” I say cautiously.

  “I’ve always thought it was beautiful. I’ve always loved that roof. I mean it’s gorgeous. And that bird fan in the shop that I told you looks like something that flew into a ceiling fan—I love that too. I might actually have purchased one for myself a few weeks ago. And, this one is big. I hate truffles. I despise them. They taste like something a pig digs up with his nose because, well, that’s what they are. I hate them.” He says this all quickly and without stopping. The absurdity of it and the fact that it’s so Danny makes me laugh out loud.

  “Danny you embrace everything. Even when you don’t like something you go all out. You follow your heart no matter where it leads. I just hope it always leads you to me.”

  “Prescott, when you stormed in to the shop that first day I thought I was going to have to taxidermy you in your tweed blazer but when you went all the way to Harrisburg to replace my cookie jar, I knew exactly where my heart was leading no matter how much I tried to have it go in a different direction.”

  “Danny,” I say as softly as I can so that the wo
rds just float from my mouth to his. “I think you’re beautiful.”

  He smiles and floats the words back to me. “I think you’re beautiful too.”

  Our faces lean toward each other and I have entirely forgotten that we are standing on the roof of the bank until the crowd that is still gathered below begins to chant: “Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.” We walk closer to the edge to see everyone. The entire street is filled with people looking up at us and chanting in unison. “Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.” I grab Danny in my arms and we do exactly what they want.

  Epilogue

  Arthur—three months later

  The bells to the shop ring as I enter, both a familiar lullaby and a trumpet to arms. I take a few steps inside and remind myself that I’m not responsible for opening the till or drawing back the curtains. Sometimes I miss it but only on days like today when the trees outside Toula’s bookshop are blossoming and the sweet warm air promises a procession of shoppers to fill the spring afternoon.

  “Be with you in a minute,” I hear Danny say from the pantry. I’m grateful to have some time alone in my old shop. It takes only a second to notice the sweeping changes that have taken place. Where once there was an intransigent boundary now no such limitation exists and the transformation is joyous. I see a purple bean bag bear sitting in a makeshift hammock between two ornate Gothic door locks, a fine collection of pewter serving utensils displayed inside a Charlie’s Angels lunchbox and an entire festival of Smurfs playing up and down a Victorian stick and ball secretary desk with fine maple spindles. It’s like a potluck at the United Nations and it’s delicious.

  The curtain to the pantry parts and Prescott sees me. He rushes over to give me a warm hug. “Uncle Arthur, when did you get back?” he asks as Danny takes his turn hugging me hello.

  “Did you love Acapulco? Was the honeymoon bungalow as pretty as in the pictures? Where’s Serilda?” Danny peppers me with questions.