by Tim Myers
“No, I’d hate to see you ruin a new pair of hose,” I said. “Becka, I’m starting a new life here. I don’t mean to be ugly about it, but I’m not interested in repeating old mistakes with you. You were right to break up with me, I should have had the guts to do it myself, so let’s just leave it at that, shall we? I’m excited about this opportunity, and I’m not just talking about the store. I figure that’s the real gift my great-aunt wanted me to have.”
She pursed her lips, then said, “I’m not giving up on you, Harrison. I’ll be back.”
Before I had the chance to reply, she was gone.
Eve came out, so I decided to fire a preemptive strike before her lecture started. “Okay, I was a little rough on her, but Becka’s no customer, she’s an old girlfriend.”
“That’s not it,” Eve said, a puzzled look on her face as she stared out the door after Becka. “That young lady looks familiar to me for some reason.”
“I can’t imagine anyone ever seeing Becka and forgetting her,” I said. “She’s got a way of being noticed that’s tough to hide.”
Eve said, “Something’s different about her, but I swear I’d recognize her anywhere.” Suddenly, she said, “I’ve got it. She’s been here before.”
“Eve, I can’t imagine Becka coming into At Wick’s End, not without admitting it to me.”
She said adamantly, “The young lady had a scarf around her hair, and her attire was quite a bit more conservative, but I saw her here. I know it.”
“So she came in candle shopping one day,” I said. “There aren’t that many choices in Micah’s Ridge.”
“You don’t understand, Harrison. The real reason I remember her is because she was fighting with Belle about something when I walked in, and the next thing I knew that girl was storming out of here as if she were on fire.”
“When did this happen?” I asked, chilled by the thought of Becka fighting with my great-aunt Belle.
‘Two days before Belle died,” Eve said simply.
As much as I hated the idea, I was going to have to speak with Becka again and find out if Eve’s declaration was true. What could Becka have been fighting with Belle about? How did she even discover we were related? I didn’t remember telling them about each other. My private life was just that, and I’d never introduced any of my girlfriends to my great-aunt. Truth be told, none of them were all that permanent.
Still, I had to dig deeper and see if it was possible that Becka could have had anything to do with my great-aunt’s death.
A headache that had been hovering just out of range suddenly slammed down on me, pounding so hard I could barely see.
Eve was right; Saturday was hopping at Wick’s End. I knew we’d sold a lot of supplies over the course of the day, but the total surprised me as I went over the deposit after we finally locked up for the night. I’ve never been that big a fan of cash, but clearly I was in the minority, at least when it came to our customers. Not that there weren’t plenty of checks and credit card receipts in the bundle too, but the tens and twenties were in abundant supply.
After the front shades were pulled, I said, ‘That was some rush. Is it always this crazy?”
“Not a chance, Harrison. I think every regular customer we ever had came by today.”
“To pay their respects?” I asked, stunned by the outpouring for Belle from her customers.
Eve shrugged. “Most of them were sincere, I’m sure, but I’m willing to wager a lot of them were coming by to see if we were CTD.”
“What’s that mean?”
Eve explained with a slight blush, “CTD stands for ‘circling the drain’. One of our best customers works in the Emergency Room over at County Hospital. I suppose I picked up the lingo from her.”
“They think we’re going under?”
“It’s not that outlandish a thought, Harrison. When word traveled through the crafting circles that a neophyte inherited At Wick’s End, what else could they think?”
I threw the deposit into the bag and said, “They could think we’re going to be just fine. What do you think, Eve?”
The question obviously startled her for a moment, so I added, “I want your brutally honest opinion.”
“That’s all I ever give,” she said with a wry smile. Eve pondered the question a few moments, then said, “Honestly? Belle kept the store afloat, but she wasn’t much on promotions and advertising. If things stay the way they were, we’ll do well to break even.”
I’d been told by too many people how borderline the operation was. “Breaking even isn’t going to be good enough. I know how you feel about the tradition of the place, but I want this shop to succeed. If that means we have to try new things in order to bring in more customers, so be it.”
“What did you have in mind?”
I tucked the zippered bag with our deposits under one arm as I headed for the door. “Give me a few days until I can polish my ideas, then we’ll talk about them.” That was purely smoke and mirrors. I didn’t have a clue yet what I was going to do, but by Monday night I would.
After thirty minutes at the library, I had accumulated enough articles on running a small business to take me a month to digest. I gathered up my copies and headed back to the truck. After I dropped the bank deposit off, I planned to dig a little deeper into some of the sheets I’d printed out.
When I got to the parking lot, I walked toward Belle’s truck and saw that someone had broken the passenger window.
My heart raced as I hurried to the vehicle, but my worst fears were realized when I saw the empty deposit bag on the floor of the cab—the one that had just recently been brimming with cash. The checks and credit card receipts were scattered in a mess on the floor, but all of the cash was gone.
How in the world was I going to explain to Eve that I’d forgotten to do the deposit before I went to the library, and had ended up losing so much of our hard-earned money?
Thankfully, Eve was gone by the time I got back to the store. I had two options: call her at home and ruin her weekend, or wait until tomorrow.
Okay, I never said I was the bravest soul in the world. The bad news could wait.
I tore up the deposit slip, subtracted the healthy cash amount from the total and drove that truck straight to the bank, not even stopping to have the glass fixed along the way. That’s what I should have done in the first place. How simple it seemed in hindsight, to take care of business first and save my research for later. I’d learned a valuable, though rather costly lesson, one I swore I’d always remember.
I’d forgotten all about eating, I’d been so upset by the theft I’d invited by leaving the deposit unattended and in plain sight. Millie found me on the steps of the river as she locked up The Crocked Pot. I had no idea how long I’d been sitting there, watching the current flow past in its relentless journey south.
“Hungry?” she asked, shaking a bag at me.
“Not really,” I said as my stomach rumbled, proving me a liar.
She sat beside me on the step and forced the bag on me. “I saw you moping out here like you’d just lost your last friend. What troubles can you have that a sandwich can’t fix?”
I shook my head, then told her about my incredible lapse in judgment.
I half-expected her to rebuke me, but instead I found understanding in Millie’s gaze. “Harrison, you’re entitled to a few boneheaded mistakes at the beginning. That’s part and parcel of running your own business. You want to hear my biggest blunder?”
“I can’t imagine you doing anything as bad as I did.”
She laughed heartily, and I found myself smiling despite my gloom. “Don’t bet the farm on it, my friend. I was catering a big affair for the mayor the first week I opened. I had four turkeys in my ovens, all the extras made ahead of time, a waitstaff hired, everything in its place. I had a thousand things to do, and when I came back into the kitchen to check on the birds for the first basting a few hours later, I didn’t smell a thing. That’s when I realized that though I
’d set the temperatures on every oven, I’d neglected to turn any of them on.”
I chuckled gently. “That’s terrible. What did you do?”
“I ran by the grocery store, wiped out their deli and lost my shirt on the deal. I couldn’t even salvage the turkeys, they’d been sitting out uncooked too long. Things are bound to happen, Harrison.”
“How am I going to face Eve?”
Millie said, “She’s a wonderful employee, and you’re lucky to have her, but remember, she works for you, Harrison. Nobody’s going to lose financially from your mistake but you. That’s another thing about running a business. The buck starts and stops with you. That includes the good, the bad and everything in between.” She stood, and I joined her.
“Thanks, Millie, you’ve helped a lot.”
“All part of being a friend, Harrison. Now if you’ll excuse me, George is taking me out for dinner tonight, and I’d better get home and change.”
“Where can he possibly take a woman who cooks as wonderfully as you do?”
Millie smiled. “We’re going to a pig picking. I can barbecue pork if I have to, but it’s a real luxury to have someone else cook for me. Care to join us? Lots of eligible gals will be around, you can bet on that.”
“I’m not in the mood or the market just now,” I said. “I’ve got my hands full with At Wick’s End.”
“There’s always time for a little romance,” Millie said, the twinkle nearly blinding in her eyes.
Heather walked out of her shop and saw us standing there. “Hey you two, what’s up?”
Millie raised an eyebrow at me, one Heather couldn’t see, and said, “I was just leaving, but you could keep Harrison company if you’ve a mind to.” She got up and looked back at me and said, “Don’t forget, Harrison, there’s always time for that.”
Heather said, “What was that all about?”
“Millie was just cheering me up.” I wasn’t about to go into my story again. Much of the sting was gone, salved by Millie’s soft words. Besides, I didn’t want everyone at River’s Edge to know what a knucklehead I’d been.
“Yeah, I saw your truck window out back. You need to get some cardboard in that if you can’t get it fixed right away. It’s supposed to rain tonight.”
I suddenly realized Heather’s storeroom had a window that looked out onto the parking lot in back of River’s Edge. Some of the grapevine started to make more sense once I got a better lay of the land.
“I’ll do that,” I said. Suddenly I realized I wasn’t all that crazy about being alone. “Listen, I can’t afford anything fancy, but I was wondering if you’d like to catch a bite with me tonight. Unless you already have plans,” I added. “I know it’s short notice, being Saturday night and all.”
Heather said, “I don’t have a plan in the world. I was just going to get a pizza and chill out.”
“That sounds great,” I said. “Do you know any good places around here?”
“Have you ever been to A Slice of Heaven?”
“I’ve never heard of it,” I admitted.
“Harrison, you are in for a real treat. Why don’t I drive, though. There’s no glass on my seats.”
I said, “We can take my other truck, if you’d like.”
“The Dodge?” she asked. “No thanks, but I might want to borrow it sometime. Now there’s a truck bed I wouldn’t feel guilty scratching up with my rocks. Why don’t we take my Beetle?”
Heather led me to her brand-new green-sherbet Volkswagen Beetle. I felt silly carrying Millie’s sandwich with me, but I’d save it for the next day. They were certainly too good to just abandon.
I said, “I’ve never ridden in one of the new Bugs. How is it?”
She lifted the plastic red rose out of the built-in bud vase and pretended to smell it. “It’s wonderful, absolutely perfect for what I need.”
As she drove toward the pizzeria, I said, “Do you mind me asking how well your store does? I’m new to all this, and I’ve got nothing to go by.”
Heather scolded me. “Harrison, there are three things you must never ask a woman: her age, her weight, and her income.”
“Sorry, I was just curious.”
Heather grinned. “Okay, I’ll share it with you, but you can’t tell a soul. Do you promise?”
“You have my word,” I said.
“Last year I cleared seven figures,” she said solemnly.
From selling rocks? I was in the wrong business. Headier waited a beat or two, then added with a smile, “If you don’t count the decimal point, and put two of the zeros after it.”
“That’s cute,” I said. “Mind if I steal it?”
“It’s yours for the taking,” she said.
I said, “Remember, dinner’s on me,” as we pulled into the crowded parking lot.
“Hey, I asked you. I should get to pay,” Heather said.
“You bought lunch yesterday, I’ll buy tonight. It’s not like this is a date or anything.”
Heather’s face tightened for a split second, and I knew I’d stepped into it again.
“Not that I wouldn’t enjoy dating you sometime,” I added lamely.
It took me a second to see the smile on Heather’s face. “Of course this isn’t a date.” She added mischievously, “I’m sure you’ll take me somewhere much nicer when we start officially going out.”
I started to backpedal again when she slapped my shoulder. “Harrison, you are just too easy. I’ve got to stop teasing you.”
“I wouldn’t know how to act,” I said.
It looked like Belle had given me a great deal more than a business and a building full of tenants. She’d given me something much more important; a group of people who could easily become new friends.
Chapter 8
A Slice of Heaven was hopping with customers. Since it was Saturday night, I expected the place to be swamped by teenagers, but I was surprised by the range of folks there enjoying a night out. The booths were all black vinyl, the carpeting an industrial gray, and the walls painted an audacious red. Vintage music from the jukebox barely made a dent in the clatter of conversations. Bill Haley and the Comets were rocking around the clock one minute, then Patsy Cline was belting out “Crazy” the next. The smells coming from the kitchen were no doubt part of the reason for the place’s popularity. It was worth the trip even if you didn’t eat anything, just to catch a whiff of that aroma.
Heather guided me to one of the only open booths, a spot far away from the jukebox, and said, “Wait right here. I’ll be back in a second.” She took three steps, paused, then yelled back, “What do you like on your pizza?”
“You decide. I’ll eat just about anything.” Heather nodded, then came back a few minutes later after fighting through the crowd to place our order.
“So what are we having?” I asked.
“I ordered us a garbage pizza.”
I smiled gently. “This place might be doing great, but they should probably work on the names of their specials.”
Heather laughed, showing dimples I hadn’t seen before. “Okay, they call it the Heaven Scent, but it’s got everything on it they don’t throw away, so I call it a garbage pizza. It doesn’t sound very appetizing, does it?”
“Are you kidding me? I can’t wait.” The music in the background shifted to an old Frank Sinatra tune, and I said, “The musical tastes around here are eclectic, aren’t they?”
Heather said, “You can request a new record for the jukebox with every tenth pizza you buy. There are only a couple of conditions, but they’re written in stone. Your pick has to be from the ‘50s or ‘60s, that’s the only music the owner, April May, really likes, and if you don’t renew it every two months, the song gets pulled if it hasn’t fallen out of the rotation by then.”
“Please tell me you’re kidding.”
Heather said, “It’s the truth. I had The Purple People Eaters on last month.”
“I’m not talking about the music. Are you telling me the woman who owns this pl
ace is really named April May?”
Heather grinned and waved to an older woman standing behind the counter with an easy smile and flaming red hair. She had on an apron that said, “Kiss your Momma” and was sporting a pair of green bibbed overalls underneath it.
“What can I get you, love?” she said to Heather as the crowd parted for her when she walked toward us.
“April, I’d like you to meet Harrison. Black. He was Belle’s great-nephew.”
April patted my shoulder. “She was a good woman, Harrison. You have my deepest sympathy.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Heather grinned, then said, “Harrison doesn’t believe your name is real.”
April laughed. “Oh, it’s real enough. Mother wanted to name me March and make April my middle name, but Dad put his foot down. Can you imagine? I would have been March April May. That’s more of a burden than any kid should have.”
“So what is your middle name?” I asked.
“It’s Garnet, after my grandmother. And Dad thought he was doing me a favor. There was no way I was going to go by that, so I went through school as the Calendar Girl. Now I kind of like it. It sets me apart from the rest of the herd.”
There was a call for April from the counter, and she said, “Gotta go. Nice meeting you, Harrison. Come back when we have more time to chat.”
As she left us, I asked, “Did Belle come here a lot?” There was so much I didn’t know about my great-aunt, and talking to her friends was the only way I had left to get to know the woman she had been, not just my great-aunt.
“Oh, Belle was a huge fan of pizza. We used to eat here together just about every Saturday night.” Heather paused, then added, “I wasn’t going to say anything, but this is kind of in her honor. I needed something, some way to mourn, you know? Don’t get me wrong, I knew Belle’s wishes as well as anyone else did. The woman absolutely detested funerals. But still, I never got to say good-bye.”