The Cottage on Juniper Ridge

by Sheila Roberts

  The following week her mother phoned. “I got a call from your uncle Jack, who’s Nana’s executor. He found something she left for you.”

  “Where? We emptied the house.”

  “In her safe deposit box. It’s an envelope. He says it looks like it’s got cash in it.”

  “But Nana didn’t have any money.”

  “None to speak of,” her mother agreed. “She must have been saving this for some time. Apparently she had one for all four of your cousins, too. Anyway, Uncle Jack dropped it by the house, so whenever you want to come pick it up...”

  “I’ll come by later today,” Stacy said.

  And when she did and opened the envelope she was shocked to see ten hundred-dollar bills. Along with it was a note.

  This isn’t much, my darling girl, but I hope you’ll use it for something as special as you are. I’m so proud of you and your creative ability and your sweet family. I wish I could stay around to see what wonderful things you do with the rest of your life, but even as I’m writing this note I know it won’t be long before I go to be with the Lord. I love you.

  Nana

  Stacy hadn’t thought she could cry any more but she’d been wrong. She gave her mother the letter and went to the bathroom for a handful of tissues.

  “That’s lovely,” her mother said when she returned.

  Mom had tears in her eyes, too, and Stacy passed her a tissue. “I have no idea what to use that money for, but Nana’s right. I should use it for something special.”

  “Maybe a little trip for you and Dean?” her mother suggested.

  “I don’t know,” Stacy said. Somehow, simply taking a trip didn’t seem like the proper use for her tiny windfall.

  “Well, you’ll think of something.”

  Two days later, she was driving down Center Street and saw the empty store sitting between D’Vine Wines and Tina’s Lace and Lovelies. Suddenly she could see that empty space full of beautiful glassware, homemade quilts, antiques and collectibles. She’d asked for a sign and had wound up with an envelope of money and more than enough inventory to stock a small shop. What have you got to lose? she asked herself. She parked her car and went into the wine shop.

  Ed York was there, visiting with Pat Hunter, who owned the bookstore. “Stacy, how are you doing?” Pat asked.

  “I’m okay,” she said. And she was—other than wanting to cry all the time. She turned to Ed. “I understand you’re the man to see about renting that retail space next door.”

  “Did you have something in mind?” he asked, his smile encouraging her to share her idea.

  So she did. “What do you think?” she asked when she’d finished.

  “I don’t know about Ed,” Pat told her, “but I think that sounds lovely. And right next door to a shop that sells lace and china? Perfect.”

  Ed nodded. “I agree.”

  “Except I’ve never owned a shop. I have no idea where to begin.”

  Ed put an arm around her shoulders. “Trust me. It’s not that hard. We’ll all help you get started.”

  He gave her a lease agreement to look over and suggested she go home and talk about it with her husband. If she wanted to proceed she could call him. “I’ve had a couple other people ask about it, but I’ll hold it for you for the next twenty-four hours. How’s that?”

  “That’d be great. I would like to talk to my husband.” But she was already pretty darned sure what her decision would be. She practically skipped back to her car. She’d wanted to know what to do next, wanted a sign. Short of skywriting, Nana’s gift, along with the available retail space, was about as clear a sign as she was going to get.

  “Go for it,” Dean said when she told him at dinner.

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  “But I don’t think the money Nana left me is going to be enough to start a business. In fact, I know it’s not.”

  He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “If you want to do this, we’ll come up with what you need.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely. I think it’s a good idea.”

  “And will you help me?”

  “Of course. Hey, we’ll need to build some fancy shelving for that stuff,” he said, and she knew he was anticipating all the fun he’d have out in his shop in the garage.

  “I was thinking more about the business end, like the bookkeeping.”

  “That, too,” he said. “But you’ve got to have someplace to put things.”

  “There’s a beautiful, old bookcase at the Kindness Cupboard,” she said. “And a vintage drop-leaf table. It’s been painted blue but I suspect there’s some nice wood under all that paint.”

  “I’ll strip it for you,” Dean offered.

  The more they talked, the more excited they both got.

  “Let’s see the lease agreement,” he said, moving his plate aside.

  She watched impatiently as he read through it.

  At last he said, “This looks pretty standard.”

  “And the location is great.”

  “Well, then.” He raised his wineglass. “Here’s to my wife the entrepreneur. And to success.”

  “To new adventures,” she said, and they clinked glasses.

  She made her big announcement at the March book club meeting, right after Charley finished showing off pictures from her surprise wedding in Las Vegas.

  “That’s wonderful,” Juliet said.

  “A great idea,” Cass agreed. “And exactly the right business for you.”

  “I hope so,” Stacy said. “I just hope I don’t fall flat on my face.”

  “You won’t,” Chita said. “And when you have your grand opening we’ll all be there to shop.”

  “I hope you make a ton,” added Jen.

  “If I can pay the rent on the shop and have a little left over I’ll be fine. I know it’s going to sound funny, but I’m not doing this to make a ton of money. I want to match up pretty things with people who’ll really appreciate them. I don’t need to clutter my house with a lot of stuff my kids won’t want. I don’t want to clutter my house, period.”

  She’d already packed up a lot of things to sell at her store and it felt good. The objects she still had actually showed so much better. That wasn’t the only benefit. “I feel...lighter. And I have less to dust.”

  “That sure isn’t like my house these days,” Juliet said with a smile. “Baby stuff everywhere!”

  “That’s fun stuff,” Charley said.

  “It is.” Juliet nodded. “Our little guy is certainly keeping us busy. But I still want to have a veggie garden this year.” She held out a book with a basket of vegetables on the cover and a catchy title—Just Beet It. “This came into the bookstore a few days ago, and I thought it might be fun to read for April. It’s a memoir about a woman who decides to live off the land.”

  “That goes hand in hand with simplifying your life. I’d be up for reading it,” Jen said.

  Charley made a face. “Gardening. Ugh. I’ll read the book, but don’t anybody expect me to start growing tomatoes, not with a business to run.”

  “And a new husband,” put in Cass. “You’ll have your hands full cultivating that relationship.”

  “It might be interesting to read, though,” Chita said. “I’ve thought of doing a small garden with the kids. In my spare time,” she cracked.

  “So, are we good with this book?” Juliet asked.

  The others agreed and Juliet promised to order more copies when she went in to work the following day. “Someone can have this one now,” she offered.

  “I’m not in a hurry for it,” Charley said.

  “I’ll take it,” Jen told her. “If no one else wants it.”

  “It’
s yours,” Juliet said.

  She pulled out her wallet and handed over some bills and that was that.

  Stacy had to admire her. Jen Heath jumped into new adventures with total abandon. Well, she had her own adventure now and she could hardly wait to open the doors of Timeless Treasures.

  * * *

  The group broke up around nine, the women who had to get up early going home for a good night’s sleep and Charley probably going home for a good night of sex. Jen sighed as she got in her car. She loved Icicle Falls and she was glad she’d simplified her life. But parts of it were too simple. Her love life could be summed up in one word—nothing.

  She needed to stop fantasizing about Garrett Armstrong and move on.

  Still, Jen couldn’t resist wanting to visit with him when he came by to pick up the rent. She could envision herself making him lavender tea and giving him home-grown veggies from her garden. That wouldn’t be poaching. That would just be...sharing.

  She opened the book to the first chapter. “My Love Affair with Dirt.” She frowned. She didn’t want a love affair with dirt. She wanted a love affair with Garrett Armstrong. But he wasn’t cooperating. And then there was Tilda, who’d probably beat Jen with her nightstick if she went anywhere near him.

  It looked as if the only bed she was going to see any action in was the flower bed.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The best new beginnings are often the most terrifying.

  —Muriel Sterling, author of Simplicity

  Stacy signed the lease on the space that was going to be her new shop and gave Ed his first month’s rent and deposit. Dean met her at the shop after he was done at school; together they measured and talked about where and how she could display her merchandise.

  They were halfway through when Ed stopped by. “Thought I’d see how it’s going,” he said.

  “Great,” Stacy told him. “I’m excited about this. I still don’t know what I’m doing but I guess I’ll figure it out.”

  “You will,” he assured her. “And just to make sure you start off on the right foot, maybe you’ll let Pat and me take you to lunch tomorrow. You can pick our brains and get some pointers on what all you need to do.”

  She thanked him, and as promised, the next day Ed and Pat settled her at a quiet corner table in Schwangau and gave her a crash course in business. “Have you got a business plan?” Ed asked.

  “A business plan?” she repeated.

  “Detailing exactly what you want to do.”

  She knew what she wanted to do, open a shop and sell pretty household items. And she was doing it. She and Dean had listed their inventory, looked up prices at various online sites, made a budget. Wasn’t that plan enough? “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

  “He means you need to work out how you’re going to run your operation,” Pat explained. “Can you afford to hire employees? You’ll probably have to hire someone at least part-time. You’ll also have to budget for taxes, get a tax ID and have a plan for marketing the shop.”

  “You’ll need a website, of course,” Ed told her. “And you’ll want to link to the Icicle Falls website and talk to George over at the Chamber of Commerce about getting included in the list of businesses in town.”

  “Oh, and you’ll want to join the Chamber,” Pat added. “It’s a good way to network.”

  “You’ll need to register your business name,” Ed continued. “And, if you haven’t done it already, you’d better hop on over to city hall and get a business license.”

  Stacy nodded, typing on her iPad as fast as she could. “How long is all this going to take?”

  “Paperwork can be expedited. You should be good to go by next month,” Ed predicted.

  She hoped so. She also hoped she wasn’t biting off more than she could chew. Was she up to the task?

  “It can all be a little overwhelming at first,” Pat said as if reading her thoughts. “But when you make your to-do list, put the most important things at the top and then work your way down. You’ll get through it.”

  * * *

  The rest of the month flew by as she worked her way through the red tape of opening a business. That part wasn’t so much fun but with Dean as her partner in paperwork, she managed. Meanwhile, he refinished the blue drop-leaf table and she started packing boxes of glassware and quilts and knickknacks to take to the shop.

  The Saturday before their grand opening, Charley’s husband, Dan, helped Dean haul the last of the merchandise and the various shelves and pieces of furniture over to the shop.

  Charley and Cecily helped set everything up. Chita stopped by, too, for a couple of hours, claiming her kids were both at friends’ houses and she had nothing else to do. What a lie. But Stacy was both touched and grateful.

  “Oh, I love this,” Charley said, picking up a pink Depression glass candy dish. “How much are you asking for it?”

  “For you? Nothing. It’s yours.”

  “No, you can’t be doing that,” Charley protested. “This is your business.”

  “Then consider it a wedding present.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. I want you to have it. Same goes for you,” she said to Chita. “If you see anything you want, tell me. My big goal is to match these things up with people who are going to love and appreciate them.”

  “And to make money,” Chita reminded her.

  “That, too, but like I said before, I’m not out to get rich. I only need to make enough to keep the nice things circulating.”

  “You won’t have any trouble doing that,” Chita said. “Look at this. You’ve got a whole set of these pink glass plates.”

  “Hopefully, someone will want them.”

  “For sure.” Chita nodded. “I could just see those in a cute little tearoom.”

  “I wish we had a tearoom here in Icicle Falls,” Cecily said wistfully. “Too bad my sister lives in L.A. I could see her doing something like that.”

  “Is she still catering?” Chita asked.

  “Caterer to the stars,” Cecily said with a smile. “She’ll never come back. She loves it in L.A.”

  Chita made a face. “I’ll take Icicle Falls over some big city any day.”

  “Me, too,” Cecily agreed.

  “Me, three,” Stacy said. As far as she was concerned, Icicle Falls was the perfect place to live. Here people really cared about you.

  Her friends all proved it. As her grand-opening day approached, everyone helped, both with setup and various contributions. Cass had connected her to a customer who had an old kitchen queen cupboard to sell, giving Stacy her first consignment piece, one she knew would walk out the door in no time. Charley was busy combining two households and had donated an oak bookcase for displaying items. Jen had brought over several ornate candle stands. Charley’s husband had helped Dean install shelves in her backroom and the two men had fixed up an old desk scrounged from Juliet’s mom so Stacy would have a place to do her paperwork.

  In the days before the grand opening, Stacy’s moods alternated between excitement and trepidation. This was such a good idea. This was such a lame idea. The business would do well. The business would flop. Everything was ready. She’d forgotten something. What if her window display didn’t attract any customers?

  Maybe no one would be interested in handmade quilts, antiques and vintage decorations.

  The night before the big day, she lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Finally, when the clock hit 2:00 a.m. she got up and went to the kitchen to heat some milk.

  Sh
e was just pouring some flavored syrup into it when Dean joined her. “Can’t sleep?” he asked, coming up behind her and slipping his arms around her waist.

  After nearly twenty-four years of marriage he could read her mind. Not that it was hard to do tonight. “I keep wondering if this was a dumb thing to do.”

  “You had the money. God knows you had the merchandise.”

  She turned around to face him. “But what if nobody buys it?”

  “In that case we’ll pull the plug and take the stuff to the Kindness Cupboard. Or sell everything on eBay.”

  Then she’d be a failure and would have wasted Nana’s money. She could feel the sting of encroaching tears.

  “But it’s going to be okay,” he insisted as if sensing he’d said the wrong thing.

  “I just hope we get a lot of people tomorrow.”

  “Don’t worry. We will,” he said, and kissed her. “Come on back to bed.”

  “I can’t sleep,” she reminded him.

  “Me, neither, and since we’re both awake...” He waggled his eyebrows.

  “You are such a horn toad.”

  “And you love it,” he retorted. “I promise by the time I’m done with you, you’ll sleep like a baby.”

  And he was right. She was still sleeping soundly when the alarm went off at eight.

  “Come on, Sleeping Beauty,” Dean said, giving her shoulder a rub. “Time to wake up and carpe diem.”

  This was it. She was ready. She hoped.

  * * *

  Before Stacy had even opened the store, family, friends and neighbors were gathering outside Timeless Treasures.

  “Better let them in before they break down the door,” Dean said, pointing to where her mother stood in front of the window, waving.

  She turned from Nana’s old china hutch where she’d been rearranging her Depression glass display yet again. Suddenly, her heart was thumping like a blender on high speed.