The Cottage on Juniper Ridge

by Sheila Roberts

  Okay, time to introduce Icicle Falls to its newest shop.

  She unlocked the door and threw it open. “Welcome, everyone!”

  “Oh, darling, it all looks so lovely,” her mother said, taking in the walls Stacy and Dean had painted a pale rose color.

  Vintage lamps and two crystal chandeliers bathed glassware and knickknacks in a romantic glow. The shop is lovely, Stacy thought with a satisfied smile.

  “Thanks,” she said. And thanks, Nana, for making this possible.

  “Surprise!” cried her daughter, poking her head around the door.

  “Autumn!”

  And there was Ethan right behind her.

  “What are you two doing here?” Stacy demanded. “Don’t you have tests to study for or parties to go to?”

  “We can study anytime,” said her son, whose less-than-stellar grades showed how well that philosophy was working.

  “We didn’t want to miss your big opening,” Autumn said, coming up to hug her. She gazed around. “Was some of this stuff Nana’s?”

  Stacy nodded. “I’m finding good homes for all of it.”

  “Looks like it’s all girl stuff,” Ethan said.

  “It pretty much is,” Stacy admitted. “Go see if you can find something for your girlfriend.”

  “Yeah, great idea,” he said. “Will you give me a deal?”

  “Maybe,” Stacy answered with a smile.

  Pat Wilder and Ed York were the next in line to say hi. Pat handed Stacy a huge flower arrangement. “This is from everyone at the Chamber.”

  Those weren’t the only flowers to arrive. Lupine Floral delivered another arrangement of spring flowers, this one from her book club.

  “They’re gorgeous,” she said later to Juliet when she and her husband, Neil, came in with baby Jon.

  “I wish I could take credit for it,” Juliet said. “It was actually Jen’s idea. She’ll be over later, by the way, as soon as she’s done with her morning shift at the bakery. Cass is coming in after she closes up and everyone else should be here pretty soon.”

  “You guys are the best,” Stacy said.

  “Hey, girlfriends support one another. Oh, and I think I found just what I want,” she said, looking past Stacy, her eyes getting big. “That cat clock with the moving tail and eyes will be perfect for Jon’s room. I’m going to snag it before anyone else does.” And with that she was gone and another well-wisher took her place.

  “This is so nice,” Olivia Wallace gushed. “I know I’ll find something here I can use in the lodge.”

  Stacy couldn’t imagine the Icicle Creek Lodge needing anything. The place had a fully functioning kitchen and was decorated beautifully, but she encouraged Olivia to look to her heart’s content.

  She smiled as she watched people moving from display to display, admiring things. Nana would be so proud.

  Dot Morrison stood at the counter where Stacy and Dean had set up their cash register, getting out her credit card while Dean rang up a tin sign advertising Yakima apples. The counter’s glass display case held costume and fine jewelry, which Stacy had figured would make tempting impulse buys.

  Right now two people were being tempted. Darla Stone, Mayor Stone’s sister, and Hildy Johnson, who owned Johnson’s Drugs with her husband, Nils, stood peering in, pointing to their favorite bits of bling. Both women had a reputation for being shopping buzzards, always trying to get something for a steal.

  She went over to them, figuring Dean would need help withstanding their collective bargaining power. “Hi, ladies. I see you found the best stuff in the place.”

  “You have some lovely things here,” Darla said.

  “A little pricey,” added Hildy.

  “Oh, not really,” Stacy told her. “We researched everything online and these are all reasonably priced.”

  “Well, you can ask whatever you want for something online. That doesn’t mean you’ll get it,” Hildy said.

  “Is there anything in particular that interests you?” Stacy asked.

  Darla pointed to a designer sterling estate ring with amethyst-and-marcasite accents that Stacy had purchased online. “I’d love to see that.”

  Seeing was about all she’d be able to do. That ring would never fit on Darla’s pudgy finger. Stacy reached into the case and brought it out, anyway.

  Sure enough, it didn’t fit, although Darla did her best to force it over her knuckle.

  “Let me try,” said Hildy, whose fingers weren’t any smaller.

  Stacy watched and thought of Cinderella’s stepsisters. “You know, rings can be a challenge,” she said diplomatically. “Have you seen this?” She pulled out an antique art deco filigree necklace with a pink glass stone.

  “Oh, that’s so pretty,” Darla raved.

  Stacy walked around the corner. “Here, try it on.”

  Darla took the necklace and her bargain buddy helped her clasp it around her neck. Darla’s neck wasn’t exactly swanlike and the pendant instantly became a choker.

  “I don’t think it flatters you,” Hildy said, sparing Stacy from having to choose between being truthful and making a sale. “Let me try it.”

  Darla pouted but removed the necklace and handed it over. It hung better on Hildy but somehow it didn’t seem like a fit. Once more, Stacy felt torn. “Gosh, I don’t know,” she said dubiously.

  “Let me see the mirror,” Hildy demanded, and Stacy gave her the vintage sterling silver mirror.

  Hildy frowned at her reflection, and Stacy glanced around the display case for another piece. She found it in a large necklace with silver-and-copper bangles. “Now, this would look great.”

  Hildy exchanged the delicate necklace for the larger piece and slipped it on.

  “Oh, yes,” Darla approved, “that’s you.”

  Hildy regarded herself in the mirror. With her thin lips, beaky nose and practically nonexistent chin she was something to regard. “Yes, this is lovely.” She took it off and examined the price tag. And frowned again. “It’s overpriced.”

  Just like half the items in Johnson’s Drugs. Stacy would have actually given the necklace to someone who loved it and couldn’t afford it. But no way was she letting Hildy go skipping off with it for a song.

  “Gosh, I guess it’s not for you, then,” Stacy said regretfully. “Too bad, because it really does look great.” No lie there. Hildy might not have been the most gorgeous jewelry model, but the piece was beautiful.

  Hildy studied the necklace. “Well.”

  “For heaven’s sake, buy the thing,” said Dot, who’d returned with yet another bargain.

  Hildy scowled at her. “Mind your own business, Dot.”

  “I am minding my own business. If you don’t want it, I do.”

  “I’ll take it,” Hildy told Stacy.

  “I know you’re going to enjoy it,” Stacy said as Hildy gave it to her to ring up.

  “Yes, I will,” Hildy agreed.

  The transaction completed, she and Darla made their way through the throng of shoppers toward the door.

  “Sorry you didn’t get a chance at the necklace,” Stacy said to Dot.

  “I’m so broken up,” Dot said with a wink.

  Well, duh. Of course, Dot had simply been goading Hildy into that purchase. “Thanks,” Stacy said.

  “Paying full price isn’t always a sin. Here.” She handed over a vintage Log Cabin Syrup tin. “Thought this might look cute on my counter at Breakfast Haus.”

 
“It would,” Stacy said, and handed it back. “On the house.”

  Dot shook her head and shoved it back at Stacy. “Oh, no. You’re a business, not a charity.”

  “But, like I keep saying, the whole purpose of this business is matching things up with people who’ll appreciate them.”

  “And paying the bills. Don’t you have kids in college? Ring it up, kiddo.”

  Stacy opened her mouth to protest but Dean took the tin out of her hands, saying, “The customer is always right, babe.”

  With people like Dot for customers, how could she lose?

  Her daughter had wandered over to the jewelry counter now. “That’s pretty,” Autumn said, pointing to the filigree necklace Darla had tried on earlier.

  It would look beautiful on her daughter. “Try it on,” Stacy said.

  Autumn did and the necklace lay perfectly on her chest. It was stunning with her fair skin and blond hair. She picked up the antique mirror to check out her reflection, and smiled.

  “Happy birthday early,” Stacy said.

  Autumn’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Oh, Mom, thanks!” She leaned across the counter and hugged her mother.

  “You know, someone else almost bought that,” Stacy said.

  Autumn touched her fingers to it. “I’m glad she changed her mind.”

  “Obviously, it was just waiting for you,” Stacy said.

  She said the same thing to several other customers as they brought their treasures up to the cash register. It was so thrilling to see objects she’d saved from Nana’s place or had picked up at thrift stores finding new homes.

  “At this rate you’re going to have to go look for more merchandise,” Dean said.

  More trips to thrift stores. Gee, what a shame.

  By the end of the day, Stacy was exhausted and if feet could cry hers would have been howling. She said goodbye to Cass and Chita and turned the sign on the door to Closed. “I’m pooped,” she told Dean.

  “Me, too. And I thought teaching was hard work.”

  “All I want to do is go home, take a bubble bath and then flop on the couch and read,” she said.

  “Except we’ve got the kids staying overnight,” Dean reminded her. “And they want to go to Bavarian Alps for pizza and then come home and play Hearts till all hours.”

  Spending time with her kids? She’d rally.

  Their family evening was the perfect ending to a perfect day, and Stacy was smiling when she went to bed. Her shop was a success. This had been a great idea.

  * * *

  This had been a dumb idea. On Monday only half a dozen people had come into Timeless Treasures.

  One of them had been Tina Swift, who owned the lace shop next door. Tina had oohed and ahhed over everything and had purchased Nana’s chocolate set. Stacy had been delighted that the antique Limoges china had gone to someone who would appreciate it—until she saw it on display in Tina’s shop window, marked up to three times what Stacy had charged. Horrified, she’d marched right in and bought it back. So much for that day’s profits.

  The next day she’d had three customers, all lookie-loos who didn’t buy anything. And on Wednesday it was just her and her timeless treasures. She closed up early, went to the Sweet Dreams gift shop and bought a pound of salted caramels.

  At least she wasn’t buying stuff, she told herself. Consumables, that was the way to go. Nothing you could keep.

  The problem was, she would end up keeping this candy—on her hips. She ate it all and by the time Dean got home from work she felt sick.

  “How’d it go at the shop?” he asked, and that made her feel even sicker.

  She should have bought two pounds of chocolate.

  Chapter Eighteen

  We all make missteps. Even those can lead to something good, although we don’t always see it at first.

  —Muriel Sterling, author of Simplicity

  “Didn’t you write an article at Thanksgiving about baking bread?” Jen asked her sister.

  Toni abandoned her computer to go search for more coffee. “Yeah. Don’t tell me, now you’re baking bread.”

  “Well, I was baking bread. But it didn’t rise very much. Why do you think that was?”

  “Hey, I’m no expert,” Toni protested.

  “You’ve got to know more than me. Come on, take a guess.”

  “I really don’t know. Maybe you killed your yeast. How hot was the water you dissolved it in?”

  “Hot enough to dissolve it. I boiled it.”

  “Good Lord. There’s your problem. It should’ve been lukewarm. Otherwise, you’ll kill the yeast.”

  There was a moment of silence while her sister took in this information, followed by, “I guess that explains it. I’ll have to try again.”

  “So, other than failed bread experiments, how’s the idyllic simple life?”

  “Great. It’s been a little cold, though.”

  “In the mountains? Gosh, what a surprise.”

  “Ha-ha. Anyway, it’s supposed to warm up over the weekend and on Saturday after I’m done at the bakery I’m renting a Rototiller and tilling my garden plot.”

  “All by yourself?” Weren’t those things heavy to lug around?

  “Not exactly. I’ve got help coming.”

  “So you’re finally making progress with Mr. Hot Britches?” Toni asked.

  “No,” Jen said, some of the happiness slipping out of her voice.

  “Oh. Then, who?”

  “One of the local boys.”

  “As in teenager?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, so a possible boyfriend?”

  “Not really.”

  “This is harder than trying to pull teeth out of a goldfish. Are you going to spill or what?”

  “There’s really nothing to spill. It’s just Billy Williams, the cowboy you met at the chocolate festival.”

  “Mr. Dreamy? Oh, rough life.” How she’d love to be in her sister’s shoes right now, living in a romantic little mountain town, baking bread, working part-time in a bakery and hanging out with sexy cowboys. The grass was sure looking greener up there in Icicle Falls. “Sometimes I think you had the right idea,” she said with a sigh. “I wish I could transplant my family to a new location. And a different time,” she added grumpily. “Before computers and cell phones.” She was willing to bet Wayne would’ve had more energy working on a farm every day than he did working on computer software programs.

  “But think what a pain your job would be without a computer,” Jen said.

  Her job would be more of a pain, but her life would be a heck of a lot easier.

  “Anyway, feel free to transplant yourself up here for a visit anytime. When are you coming up to see me again, by the way?”

  Their summer vacation seemed aeons away. “Next week,” Toni decided.

  Why not? She was almost done with her article for Family Circle, then she just had to finish the research for one she was proposing to Parents magazine on the newest teen party drugs to watch out for. After that she could take a break.

  Her family wouldn’t miss her if she was gone for a couple of days. They probably wouldn’t miss her if she was gone for a couple of weeks. Well, except as a chauffeur and cook. But they could manage on their own. In fact, it would do them good to have to manage on their own.

  “I can’t wait! You can come to my book club with me. And we can shop and
eat chocolate and hike.”

  “Since when do you hike?” Toni scoffed.

  “Since I moved up here. I want to, anyway. I hear there are Indian petroglyphs on a trail by Icicle Creek. That would be good to blog about.”

  “How’s the blog coming? I read your last post about waiting for spring in the mountains. Very cute.”

  “I saw that you left a comment.”

  “And I wasn’t the only one.”

  ”Yeah, I’m up to a whopping thirty-four followers,” Jen said. “And five of them are in my book club.”

  “You’ll get more,” Toni assured her.

  “I hope so. Meanwhile, I’m enjoying it. I still haven’t come up with an idea for a book, though.”

  Toni couldn’t help smiling. This book would prove to be yet another harebrained plan of her sister’s that would come to nothing.

  Of course, she’d thought the same thing when Jen announced her determination to move, and that was turning out fine. Everything seemed to be going smoothly for her sister up in Icicle Falls. Toni was glad that after all the emotional upheaval Jen had endured, the road was finally leveling out for her and she was happy. And having fun.

  Fun sounded like an excellent idea to Toni. She decided she was going to hang out with someone who wanted to do something other than text or play video games or work long hours. She was going to get sister time and Sweet Dreams chocolates and home-baked bread. She was going back for a second helping of life in Icicle Falls.

  * * *

  Saturday brought blue sky and sunshine, a perfect day for Jen to put in a garden. Life was good.

  Pat at the bookstore had cautioned her not to plant until the end of the month, but she figured since it was now April she could at least get the ground ready. The book she’d been reading stressed the importance of having rich soil, primed with fertilizer, so she’d start by getting everything dug up and fertilized.

  She’d just arrived home from her morning shift at Gingerbread Haus and had the coffee on when a big red truck driven by a man in a cowboy hat pulled up in the driveway. Bill Will had his window down and she could hear the country music blasting all the way into the house. He opened the door and hopped out, a vision in boots, jeans and a tight T-shirt with a denim jacket thrown over it, his Stetson low over his face.