A Basket Full of Bargins
Lorraine Bartlett
Contents
Visit Picturesque Victoria Square
Description
1. The Strange Duck
2. An Artisans Ally
3. Let’s Make a Deal
4. The Flipped Wig
5. A Home Visit
6. A Workable Arrangement
Don’t Miss …
About the Author
Also by Lorraine Bartlett
Visit Picturesque Victoria Square
You know about Victoria Square thanks to the Victoria Square Mysteries. Artisans Alley takes center stage in those books, but the merchants—and their businesses—are just as interesting. They all have stories to tell … and that’s what the Life on Victoria Square companion series is all about.
So settle back and really get to know the merchants. Learn about their lives, and how life on Victoria Square affects them. It might just make a profound impression on you, too!
A Basket Full of Bargains
by
Lorraine Bartlett
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Copyright © 2017 by Lorraine Bartlett. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is purely coincidental.
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Other Books By Lorraine Bartlett
The Victoria Square Mysteries
A Crafty Killing
The Walled Flower
One Hot Murder
Dead, Bath and Beyond (with Laurie Cass)
Recipes To Die For: A Victoria Square Cookbooks
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Life On Victoria Square
(A companion series to the Victoria Square Mysteries)
Carving Out A Path
A Basket Full of Bargains
The Broken Teacup
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The Lotus Bay Mysteries
Panty Raid
(A Tori Cannon-Kathy Grant mini mystery)
With Baited Breath
Christmas At Swans Nest
(A Tori Cannon-Kathy Grant mini mystery)
* * *
Tales from Blythe Cove Manor
A Dream Weekend
A Final Gift
An Unexpected Visitor
Tales of Telenia (adventure-fantasy)
THRESHOLD
JOURNEY
TREACHERY
Short Stories
Love & Murder: A Bargain-Priced Collection of Short Stories
Happy Holidays? (A Collection of Christmas Stories)
An Unconditional Love
Love Heals
Blue Christmas
Prisoner of Love
We’re So Sorry, Uncle Albert
Created with Vellum
Description
A Basket Full of Bargains
Iris Drake is an odd duck. She knows everyone at Artisans Alley arts-and-crafts arcade, but nobody knows her. When she walks into Gilda’s Gourmet Basket on Victoria Square, she’s a stranger there, too—but not for long. Yet she hasn’t come to Gilda to buy her wares—she’s there to sell some of her own. All goes well until Iris’s secret is exposed. Should Gilda step in to make things right, or walk away from an unpleasant situation?
1
The Strange Duck
Gilda Ringwald-Stratton looked up from the bow she was tying on the large, cellophane-wrapped basket full of baby paraphernalia. The shower was to be held Saturday, but she didn’t like leaving anything until the last minute. It was only Tuesday, but she had a stack of orders sitting in her old-fashioned wire “in” basket. It had once belonged to her father, and she kept it on the sales counter and thought of him fondly throughout her work day. She’d call her customer that afternoon and let her know she could pick up the finished basket at any time.
Gilda would have liked to have been in the workroom behind the showroom of her small shop, Gilda’s Gourmet Baskets on Victoria Square in McKinlay Mill, NY. It was on the anniversary of her first rocky year in business that she’d contemplated closing the store. Business was bad. Very bad. Now, to celebrate her second, much better year in business, she was contemplating hiring a part-time employee. The turnaround had been phenomenal—at least in her estimation. To go from red ink to black during the usually quiet summer months had been something of a miracle, and there was one person she gave credit for that event: Katie Bonner, the owner/manager of Artisans Alley, the Square’s anchor.
Not only had Katie taken that failing business and done a dramatic turnaround, but the rest of the Square had enjoyed the fruits of her labors as well. As the Victoria Square Merchants Association’s leader, Katie had shared her marketing acumen, and those who’d chosen to listen to her strategies had seen an uptick in business. Those who hadn’t had shuttered their doors.
Gilda brushed at the ebony fringe of hair that peeked over the top of her glasses, grateful Brittany Kohler, the owner at the new day spa on the Square, was willing to give her a color and cut after her normal working hours. That was another reason Gilda could use someone to help with the customers—allowing her time to make the occasional appointment with the doctor, dentist, etc. during working hours. Being a one-person operation was becoming just too much for this woman of a certain age.
The door to the shop opened and a woman about Gilda’s age entered. “Good morning,” Gilda called cheerfully, although her hopes for a sale weren’t all that high. Today marked the third time in a week the woman had entered the shop, spent twenty or more minutes looking over Gilda’s stock before leaving with a hardy goodbye. It was time to figure out what was going on with her.
Although the day was sunny and bright, Gilda’s not-a-customer was dressed in a rather shabby pink raincoat with a pink scarf tied over what looked like an old, frowzy honey-blonde wig. Granted, the October day was a tad on the windy side, but the temperature was in the low sixties and promised to rise by later that afternoon.
“Made up your mind yet?” Gilda asked. On one of the previous two occasions the woman had visited she’d said she was trying to decide on a birthday gift for her daughter. The selection of goods and services on the Square made narrowing down the choice quite difficult. It sounded reasonable … to a point.
“Getting closer,” the woman said, and paused to examine one of Gilda’s bestselling baskets: the Chocolate Lover’s Surprise. Who didn’t love chocolate? But then the woman turned to examine another basket on the table behind her.
“I’ve just made a fresh pot of coffee. Would you like a cup?” Gilda offered.
The woman turned. “Why, yes. Thank you.”
“How do you take it?”
“Black with a little sugar.”
Gilda slipped off her stool and strode to the coffeemaker that sat on the shelf behind her. During the holidays, she sold a lot of different flavored coffees by giving away free samples. She’d start offering it again during the first week of November when the Christmas rush began in earnest—at least on Victoria Square it did.
Gilda poured two cups of coffee—one in an insulated paper cup for her non-customer and one in a big ceramic mug decorated with a painting of the Brooklyn Bridge under construction. She doctored them before calling, “Come and get it!”
The woman laughed, and made her way around the displays to join Gilda at the back of the store. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
The woman took a sip. “Are you from New York City?”
“How could you tell?” Gilda asked, laying on her accent rather thickly.
The woman shrugged. It was then Gilda noticed her eyebrows—or lack thereof. Lots of older women—and some not so old—used an eyebrow pencil to draw on brows where their own were lacking. But this woman had chosen the wrong color, a shade much too dark to go with her honey-colored wig.
That wig, Gilda thought sourly. It reminded her of the hair on a walking doll from the nineteen thirties that her mother had owned. Her Mama never understood why Gilda hadn’t loved the doll the way she had. That dolly with the rigid limbs and the stark, blank stare gave Gilda the creeps.
“Are you from around here?” Gilda asked.
The woman nodded. “Sort of. I’m originally from Rochester, but my mother and I came to live in McKinlay Mill about twenty years ago because apartments are cheaper out here. Or at least they used to be. I live down the street at the big complex on the south side of County Road 8.”
Gilda frowned. She made it sound like it was just a short jaunt from the Square, but it had to be at least a mile. The distance was negligible by car, but for some reason—maybe the woman’s worn-looking loafers—Gilda had the impression her non-customer had walked to the Square—many times.
“My name’s Gilda.”
“Oh, you’re the owner.”
Gilda smiled, looking around the shop. “I used to be an accountant, but I much prefer making gift baskets for others. They bring a lot of joy. And you are?”
“Iris Drake.”
“Hi, Iris. Nice to make your acquaintance. I’ve seen you around the Square.”
“It’s like my second home. I spend a lot of time in Artisans Alley.”
“Are you friends with the vendors?”
Iris shook her head. “Not really. But they seem glad to see me every day. They’ve always treated me kindly.”
“They’re nice people,” Gilda agreed.
“But they’re not my friends,” Iris lamented.
“Where are your friends?”
Iris shrugged. “I lost touch with most of them when I came to McKinlay Mill to take care of my mother. She passed about three years ago. I’m kind of stuck here now and all my friends have moved on.”
“That’s sad,” Gilda agreed.
“Something’s going to have to change,” Iris said. “Because I’m almost out of money. And when it’s gone . . . .” She let the sentence hang.
Gilda didn’t know what to say.
The silence between them lengthened.
Iris seemed to shake herself, forcing a smile. “Never mind. Something has always turned up. When I look back on my life, I’ve actually been very lucky.”
Gilda produced what she hoped was a sympathetic smile. “Me, too.”
Iris moseyed over to the east end of the shop, what Gilda thought of as her ‘wall of trinkets.’ On it were small totes containing the sample coffee packages, chocolate, cookies, cookie cutters, toys, and other tchotchkes that her customers could choose to put into the baskets she created.
“You’ve got lots of cute things here.”
“Those items are some of the most commonly requested elements to go into my gift baskets.”
Iris nodded, staring at the totes for a good long moment, then she glanced at the little round Timex on her wrist before draining her cup. She deposited it in a waste basket near the end of the sales counter. “Time for me to head on over to the Alley to look for bargains.” She headed for the exit.
“What kind of bargains?” Gilda called, and Iris paused at the door.
“Just this and that. Thanks again for the coffee. It was nice talking to you.”
“Bye,” Gilda called as the door closed behind Iris.
“What a strange duck.”
“What did you say, dear?”
It was Conrad, Gilda’s husband. His wine shop, The Perfect Grape, and hers were connected by a pocket door.
Gilda gave him a smile. “Nothing. That strange woman came in again.”
Conrad nodded, and went back to his shop.
Gilda turned her attention back to the basket that still stood on the sales counter. Time to start another. Since October was nearly over and was closing in on Thanksgiving, she decided to take a break from commissions and create a basket that could be used as a hostess gift for that holiday. Then again, maybe she should make a generic birthday basket suitable for a woman, maybe Iris Drake’s daughter, although she had no idea how old the woman (teenager?) could be. Yes, the more generic the better. Cookies, chocolate, and maybe something meant to pamper.
As she assembled the items for the basket, Gilda’s thoughts kept circling back to the strange woman with the ugly wig, wondering why anyone would wear such a monstrosity. But then, Iris kept it covered with a scarf … and what did it matter anyway?
Humming to herself, Gilda began putting the birthday basket together. Her former career had been a major bore, but she felt sure she could be happy making pretty baskets filled with thoughtful things to delight the grouchiest of souls.
Still her thoughts kept returning to Iris, and she was unable to put her finger on what it was about the woman that bothered her. And she had a feeling she hadn’t seen the last of Iris Drake.
2
An Artisans Ally
It was nearly closing time when the bell over the door rang and Gilda looked up. But instead of a customer, it was Katie Bonner from Artisans Alley. “What brings you in so late in the day?” Gilda asked.
“I could have called, but I needed a breath of fresh air. Tonight’s Merchants Association Meeting has been canceled.”
“Canceled?” Gilda repeated. And she’d been so looking forward to the monthly gathering and an excuse not to have to cook or eat fast food. She liked pizza, and Angelo’s Pizzeria on the Square made the best pie around, but too much of anything wasn’t necessarily a good thing.
Katie nodded. “Five of the merchants called to say they couldn’t make it. I’d much rather postpone the meeting than make decisions with that many members missing.”
“That seems reasonable.”
But there was no way Gilda was not going to have Del’s Diner’s meatloaf special for her dinner that night. If Conrad objected, which was doubtful, she decided she’d go alone and he could fend for himself in the kitchen.
“Thanks for stopping by to let me know.”
“My pleasure. You and Conrad are the last to know. I can get back to the Alley just in time to close for the day and then I’ve got the evening off.”
“Too bad you can’t spend it with Andy.” Katie’s boyfriend.
“He takes a break around eight, so I usually do get to see him for a few minutes every evening—not that that’s nearly enough,” she said rather wistfully and smiled. She let out a sigh and then turned for the door. “See you later.”
“Katie, wait!”
Katie turned back to face Gilda.
“I was wondering what you knew about Iris Drake.”
“Who?” Katie asked, looking puzzled.
“A customer at Artisans Alley…although if she spends as much there as in my shop, you guys must be in the red.”
Katie frowned.
“Average build; pink raincoat; bad wig.”
“Oh, yeah,” Katie said, nodding, her expression darkening. “Our less-than-five-dollar friend.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because she always buys something—hasn’t missed a day since I’ve been there—but has never spent more than a buck or two at a time.”
“Why do you think she comes into your store so often?”
Katie shrugged. “Maybe she’s lonely. She comes so often, she probably has few if any friends or family.”
“But she told me she wanted to buy a gift basket for her daughter.”
Katie shrugged. “Maybe I’m wrong.” She frowned. “I never gave her much thought until n
ow. Maybe when she comes in tomorrow, I’ll see if I can ask her a few friendly questions, because now that you mention it, I’d like to know a little more about her. Would you like me to share what I learn?”
“I don’t want to be a busybody,” Gilda said, and she wasn’t known as being one, but she was a curious person, and she’d been intrigued by the woman.
“Oh, no. Of course not,” Katie agreed. But then she smiled once more. “Talk to you later.” And out the door she went.
Gilda frowned, staring out the shop’s front windows. The sky had darkened and the gas lamps on the Square were now alight, giving the parking lot a festive glow, although she felt anything but cheerful.
“Was that Katie?” Conrad called from his shop across the way.
“Yes. The Merchants Association meeting has been canceled.”
Conrad appeared at the open doorway once more, looking crestfallen. “No Del’s meatloaf?”
“Not if I have anything to say about it.”
“Eat in or to-go?”
“Eat in,” Gilda asserted.
Conrad smiled. “Maybe we can get the back booth—the one with the dimmer switch on the Tiffany light overhead. It could be quite romantic,” he said and waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Gilda smiled. Oh, how she loved still being a newlywed.
“You could talk me into it.”
“Then let’s close shop and head that way before someone else snags that booth.”
“I could call and request it.”
“Even better,” Conrad said, heading back into his shop.
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