1 Lost Under a Ladder

by Linda O. Johnston

  “Martha was right,” she murmured. “Pluckie and you are good luck.” She hurried toward the nearest group—a young couple plus their shih tzu mix. “May I help you find anything?” she asked.

  I listened as they described wanting a special superstition-related collar and toys for their pup. Millie led them to some items I’d noticed before and began hand-selling them.

  Good employee, I thought. I decided to act as if I really was the temporary manager and approached another group, two women who seemed interested in the amulets and other items inside the glass counter near the cash register. “May I help you?”

  “Oh, yes,” said the older woman. I assumed they were a mother and daughter. “Sally’s eighteenth birthday is in a couple of weeks, and we’ve started visiting shelters near our home. We’re going to get her a dog.”

  Sally gave a huge smile. “Coming to Destiny is part of my celebration. I want to make sure my family and I all have good luck forever. My new dog, too, when we get her. So we’re collecting things to make sure that happens.”

  I wound up selling them two matching dog-faced amulets. Sally said she’d wear one as a necklace and make sure her new pet wore the other. I borrowed Millie from her customers long enough for her to show me how to use the store’s credit card reader and cash register.

  The other two people, a middle-aged couple, treated the Yorkie in the woman’s arms as if he was their kid. I saw a lot of that at my MegaPets store and identified with it with my own Pluckie, who stayed at my side. After taking some time to pick out a superstition-decorated collar, the customers paid cash and I took their money, made an appropriate record, and printed a receipt.

  When I next glanced toward the door, Justin stood there. I’d thought he’d intended to arrive here to get me when the store opened, but it was actually a good thing he was late since it had given me a chance to see the place in action.

  And even to act as if I worked here.

  As I drew closer, he smiled. “I was watching you. You looked right at home.”

  “Is that supposed to convince me to stay?”

  “Does it?” he countered.

  I shook my head, not in negativity but amusement. “Are we going out for coffee?”

  “Do you want to?”

  “Yes,” I said. “As long as it staves off more questions.”

  He laughed. I turned and hurried around the store’s displays toward Millie, who was just finishing up with the last of the initial shoppers. No more had come in, but it was still early. I told her I’d be gone for a while.

  “But you will be back?” She turned from her customers to regard me seriously. “Our other part-timer Jeri is coming in a little later to help out, but Martha promised that someone would act as manager in her absence, and she seemed sure it would be you.”

  “Could be,” I waffled. “But it’s not definite yet.”

  “Please make it definite as soon as possible,” Millie’s youthful face looked almost panicked. “I saw how well you did with those people, and we really need someone like you.”

  Instead of convincing me, though, Millie’s pushiness, combined with knowing I faced something similar over coffee with Justin, nearly made me run screaming out of there.

  But I really did have to make up my mind fairly soon. And so far I still hadn’t accomplished what I’d intended by coming to Destiny.

  Justin, Pluckie, and I walked a few doors down to the Beware-of-Bubbles coffee shop. Outside it, I noticed a stand containing a few copies of the Destiny Star, a weekly ad-supported local paper I’d seen online while researching the town. Sometime while I was here I’d have to grab a free copy to actually read.

  “Beware of Bubbles?” I asked Justin as we walked inside and I picked Pluckie up.

  “There are a bunch of superstitions involving bubbles in coffee,” Justin said. “Some are good, but others involve bad luck.” At my urging he told me that big bubbles in coffee could mean you were about to get bad news, but other people thought they just meant someone you were meeting would be late. Smaller bubbles moving toward you could mean good fortune, but if they moved away the opposite was true.

  “I never really paid attention to bubbles in my coffee,” I said as we stepped up to the barista to order.

  When I was handed my ordinary black coffee, I saw no bubbles at all. Just as well.

  I enjoyed the additional time with Justin despite how, as I’d anticipated, he spent it trying in a nice way to continue the guilt trip he’d begun laying on me if I chose to leave before Martha resumed management of her boutique. Was being with him good luck or bad? Though I appreciated how he tried to help his senior friend, I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.

  We soon left, each carrying our cups to go. I also held Pluckie’s leash, and she stayed right beside me.

  Justin walked us back to the block where the Lucky Dog Boutique was, then said, “I’ll be in touch later. In fact, I’ll stop in and see how you’re doing at the shop.”

  “And if I’ve decided to leave and I’m not there?”

  He smiled. “Then I’ll definitely make sure that someone finds a superstition that says leaving town when your help is desperately needed for someone who’s ill brings bad luck.”

  “You don’t believe that,” I countered. “From the way you’ve been talking, I suspect you’re like me and don’t really believe in superstitions.”

  “Sssh.” He put his finger in front of his nicely-shaped masculine lips. “Don’t let anyone in this town hear you say that about me. I’ve settled here permanently.” He paused, reached out and touched me gently on the cheek. “And, Rory?”

  “Yes?” I responded cautiously.

  “Something in me, superstitious or not, tells me you might do the same thing.”

  _____

  Me? Live here permanently? I said goodbye to Justin as fast as I could after that and he headed west, toward where he said the police station was.

  Instead of hurrying to the Lucky Dog Boutique, I stopped just short of it and entered the Broken Mirror Bookstore.

  I’d been contemplating doing that all day and was delighted to see Kenneth Tarzal behind the counter at the far end of several shelves of books, talking with someone.

  Maybe it was rude, but I caught his eye, planted a frantic expression on my face, and gestured to him pleadingly to join me.

  He excused himself and approached. “Everything all right, Rory?”

  “That depends,” I said. “Would you have a few minutes to talk with me? I really need you to convince me about the reality of superstitions.”

  six

  The tall guy’s greenish-hazel eyes behind his bifocals blinked in apparent incredulity as he looked down at me. His sudden nearness was enough to get Pluckie to assume a defensive standing position. Knowing she was about to growl, I bent down and stroked her back. “It’s okay, girl.”

  “Surely you don’t need convincing, or why would you be here?” That wasn’t Tarzal but the man he’d been talking to. He was shorter than Tarzal—as were most people—and heavier, with a thick silver beard emphasizing his chin and his jovial smile. On the lapel of his suit jacket was a pin depicting a leprechaun.

  In fact, had this guy been a lot shorter and wearing green instead of gray, he could have been mistaken for a leprechaun, even more than the servers I’d seen at the Shamrock Steakhouse.

  “That’s exactly why I am here.” Did the man assume everyone who visited Destiny believed that superstitions were real?

  Maybe he did, considering who he was.

  “Rory,” said Tarzal, “this is Destiny’s mayor, Bevin Dermot. Bevin, Rory’s the one who discovered Martha ill in her storeroom.”

  “Actually,” I corrected, “it was Pluckie.” I gestured toward my sweet dog, now sitting and watching both men. I knew she’d try to protect me if there was anything to protect me f
rom, and I didn’t want anyone angry with her, especially someone in authority like the mayor.

  “Welcome to both of you.” Bevin’s smile revealed white but uneven teeth. “And believe me, Rory, superstitions are very real.” He turned toward Tarzal. “You know that better than anyone, Kenneth. And I don’t want to hear anyone else say you were teasing about whether or not superstitions come true. You’re our town’s greatest authority on them. You wrote the book. Don’t make the mistake of trying to cause controversy about what we do here. It won’t help you sell any more of your books, I promise you.”

  Interesting. I had the impression that I’d interrupted an intense and not particularly friendly conversation.

  One in which Kenneth Tarzal, of all people, was being chastised for saying that those who believed in superstitions could be wrong?

  “I hear you, Bevin. But you’re wrong about controversy. It can be a good thing, both for my book and for Destiny. More people will talk about us if we get that kind of publicity.”

  “We do not want that kind of publicity.” Bevin’s face looked even more leprechaun-like as it grew ruddier. He shut his eyes for a split second, opening them to look at me. “Don’t you worry about any of this, Rory. You may have some questions, but you already know that superstitions come true. You and your little black and white dog saved a life already, and I’m sure you know that dogs like yours are definitely good luck.” He smiled, then said, “See you again soon, Kenneth. Hope to see you again, Rory.” He turned and left the store.

  “Were you pulling our mayor’s chain again, partner?” Preston Kunningham had just emerged through a door from the back of the bookshop. The smile on his face that he leveled on Tarzal didn’t appear particularly humorous.

  “He makes it so easy.” Tarzal’s return smile also looked annoyed.

  My turn to butt in. “But what he had to say … Gentlemen, can I buy you lunch later so we can talk about superstitions? I came here because of a … well, situation, that some people said was because a superstition came true. I didn’t believe in superstitions before, but now I’m not so sure. I’d love to discuss the possibilities with experts like you.”

  “Of course, my dear,” Tarzal said. “We’d be delighted.”

  But judging from the unreadable expression on Preston’s face, I wasn’t certain he agreed.

  Since it was only mid-morning, we planned for me to come back in a couple of hours and we’d go someplace nearby to eat and talk. I looked forward to it.

  Surely I’d get the best explanation of superstitions, where they came from, and how much validity they actually had—if any—from the man who’d written a definitive book on them. His business partner might have thoughts of his own about them, too.

  Would they be honest with someone like me, a visitor, one of those Destiny relied on for purchases and profits? I’d just have to weigh what they said by their attitudes as they said it.

  Pluckie and I returned to the Lucky Dog next door. Millie was busy with some male customers with a pit bull on a leash—a well-behaved one who sat there and ignored my dog.

  I gathered that another employee had also come in. A twenty-something woman wearing a bright red Lucky Dog Boutique T-shirt stood behind the glass showcase that held the superstition-related amulets, pointing some items out to an older couple who seemed fascinated.

  I waved at Millie, and with Pluckie still leashed beside me I approached the clerk and her customers.

  “Now if I were you,” that clerk was saying, “I’d start a special superstition animal charm bracelet. See there?” She pointed at an area where rows of animal-related enameled charms were tucked into velvet display boxes. “You can take a whole lot of good luck home with you: a rabbit’s foot, a white horse, a black and white dog.”

  “Can I see them more closely?” the woman said.

  “Of course.” The clerk noticed me then. “Cute dog.” She looked down at Pluckie. “I’ll be with both of you in a minute.”

  Millie edged over. “This is Rory,” she said to the other clerk, her tone sounding as if she was introducing a movie star. “Rory, this is Jeri Mardeer. She works part-time like me. When she’s not here, she’s helping to run her family’s store down the street, Heads-Up Penny Gifts.”

  “Oh, you’re Rory.” Jeri sounded somewhat awed. I had a feeling that, in this town of superstitions, a story with a happy ending would be told and retold so often, with embellishments, that it could wind up sounding like more than even good luck had occurred—miracles, maybe?

  “Good to meet you, Jeri.” And in some ways it was. She obviously knew the retail business since her family also owned a store. If I decided not to stay, maybe she could devote more time to the Lucky Dog.

  “’Scuse me,” Millie said and returned to her customers.

  Jeri’s customers, meanwhile, were still making up their minds about which charms to buy. “I’ve heard so many great things about you,” Jeri said to me. “About how your dog—what’s her name?”

  “Pluckie,” I supplied.

  “How Pluckie not only saved but brought good luck to Martha —by bringing you here. I mean, just like that, Martha needed someone to run this shop, and there you were, with all your pet store experience.”

  “But I’m not sure—” I began but was interrupted by Jeri’s customers calling her over.

  Millie finished her sale and approached me. “I hope it’s okay with you, but Martha always lets us have a half-hour break every morning when we’re here together, which isn’t very often, maybe one or two days a week. Right now, well, I hope it’ll be okay. Jeri and I are going out for lattes, but we’ll be back soon.”

  I agreed, although I wasn’t sure I had a choice. And just like that I was there alone, in charge of the store.

  As I’d said to Justin before, for all those young ladies, or even Martha, knew, I was a miserable, dishonest jerk who’d take all the money and expensive goods I could find here and run.

  But of course I wasn’t.

  Pluckie helped me wait on a woman with a Chihuahua who wanted something nice and superstitious and expensive for her beloved little pet.

  Then there was a family who wanted to know if we had any special superstition food for sale. I showed them to the shelves at the back of the store where some bags and cans among more standard, yet good quality, brands were labeled Good Luck Dog Food and Good Luck Cat Food. Was that for real, or just relabeled for sale here? I didn’t know.

  The time went fast. I was almost surprised when Millie and Jeri returned. I smiled as both greeted me, asked how things had gone, and seemed pleased I’d had no issues working here alone.

  They weren’t half as pleased as I was.

  The time on the cash register’s digital display told me it was time for me to meet Tarzal and Preston for lunch.

  “I need to go out for a while,” I told the two staff members. “Would you mind keeping an eye on Pluckie for me?”

  Worrywart that I am about my closest family member, I gave them explicit instructions, including keeping Pluckie on her leash and looping the other end over a hook I’d seen on the counter near the cash register.

  “Don’t worry, she’ll be fine,” Jeri assured me.

  Only then did I leave for my luncheon engagement.

  _____

  The Apple-a-Day Café was on Destiny Boulevard, a block from the Broken Mirror Bookstore and the Lucky Dog Boutique on the other side of the Beware-of-Bubbles Coffee Shop. The men closed their bookstore when we left and said they usually shut down for lunch anyway.

  Preston talked nonstop, pointing out other stores and landmarks that had to do with Destiny’s superstition theme. He even gave a brief rundown on the origin of the town, some of which I’d read online before heading here. Destiny had been founded by two Forty-Niners from California Gold Rush days. While panning for gold, they had spotted a rainbow, hurried to
what they’d considered its end, and discovered a fortune in gold at the riverbank where they wound up. Subsequently devoting their wealthy lives to teaching the value of following superstitions like the one that led to their success, they had created a town a distance from the goldfields to honor their beliefs.

  An interesting tale. Superstitions—at least one—had apparently worked for those guys.

  And the Rainbow B&B where I was staying was patterned at least somewhat on Destiny’s beginnings.

  Nothing Preston said indicated whether he bought into the idea of superstitions. Not that it mattered. I figured I’d get more information from Tarzal.

  Both men ordered drinks with their meals—hard liquor. Gin and tonics. Me? I needed to stay awake and keep my wits about me so I stuck with water.

  The Apple-a-Day was large and crowded. The wait staff all looked like normal people. No leprechauns here, not even the mayor, although paintings obviously intended to represent various superstitions hung on the wall—with discreet price tags stuck into their corners. Apparently they’d been created by local artists who also wanted to capitalize on the superstition theme.

  There was a lot of healthy stuff on the menu. I ordered a walnut-apple salad. The guys ordered sandwiches, but ones with lean meat and small salads on the side.

  Once our orders were taken by a pretty young lady, I decided to jump right in. “So tell me, please,” I said to Tarzal. “With all the research you must have done to write your book, why do people believe in superstitions … and are they real?”

  Sitting across from me, he bent his head to regard me over the top of his bifocals, even as he guffawed aloud. “Real? Well, let’s start with your first question.”

  He glanced toward Preston, who regarded him sternly, as if trying to tell his business partner what to say.

  Tarzal’s smile didn’t waver. “Here’s the thing, Rory. Superstitions have been around as long as mankind. I won’t go into a lot of detail. You can read my book, where I talk about origins as well as superstitions. In general, they arose because someone would see or experience something unusual, like seeing a rainbow or a four-leaf clover, and then something wonderful would happen to them. Or something bad. Were they related? Probably not, but early men assumed they were and passed a description of the exciting event along to friends and family. Some of it evolved from religion, too. I can’t swear that any superstition is real, that if you knock on wood or cross your fingers or whatever that you’ll have good luck. But if someone does either of those things intentionally and his luck is good, his mind will relate them as cause and effect. If he doesn’t do them and nothing happens, then is that bad luck? That depends.”