Max contorted her face into a grimace and shook an index finger at me.
“I understand.” I had to look away from Max—which wasn’t easy, since she was standing directly behind Ms. Oakes—to keep from laughing.
Ford and Sienna came out of Antiquated Editions as we stepped back into the hallway from Ms. Oakes’ office.
“Everybody have a good evening,” Ford said.
“You too,” I called. “Bye, Sienna.”
“Bye.” She marched down the stairs beside Ford who insisted, to her dismay, that she hold his hand and the handrail. “I’m not a child, Uncle Ford.”
Grandpa and I shared a grin, and I could’ve sworn I even saw Ms. Oakes’ lips twitch.
I wasn’t sure whether or not Connie had left yet, but soon we would have the entire upstairs to ourselves.
Ms. Oakes waited while I unlocked the door to the vacant space for Grandpa.
He went inside and took a measuring tape from the toolbox. “Pup, can you take some notes for me?”
“Of course.” I went inside, wondering why I hadn’t thought of that before and where I could get paper and a pen.
As if reading my mind, Grandpa said, “I keep a notebook and a carpenter’s pencil right in the top of my toolbox.”
Ms. Oakes watched as Grandpa went to the first outlet and began to measure. Then, apparently convinced we were doing nothing nefarious, she said, “Goodbye, then. Amanda, be sure to lock that door back securely and take care of the key.”
“I will, Ms. Oakes. Thank you.”
As soon as Ms. Oakes started down the steps, Max went to the closet. “Come on! Get over here!”
“Give me a minute,” he said.
Afraid Ms. Oakes might’ve overheard, I said, “Sorry. I have a lot to do this evening.”
Grandpa whispered to Max, “Go see if Connie has left and make sure Ms. Oakes is gone.”
“Okay.” She popped out.
Within seconds, she’d returned. “Connie is still here, but she’s gathering up her things. Right now, she’s chatting with Ms. Oakes. She didn’t have time for us, but she can make time to talk with Connie.” She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I’m guessing they’ll walk out together.”
After Max gave us the all-clear, I shut the door and we went over to the closet.
“It’s this board right here,” Max said. “I remember it because it has those two black dots in the wood. See?”
There were indeed two small dots on one of the floorboards.
“We’re sure this is the right one?” Grandpa asked.
Max nodded. “Hurry! I can hardly wait!”
As Grandpa gently pried the board up with a small pry bar, we heard footsteps on the stairs.
He and I froze. Max ran through the door to see who was coming.
She poked her head through the wall. “It’s Jason!”
Grandpa stepped away from the closet and closed the door.
“Get in here,” I hissed to Max, remembering belatedly that he couldn’t see her.
Nevertheless, she stepped on into the room. “Nuts! Now we’ll have to wait until he’s gone.”
“Maybe if we’re quiet, he won’t know we’re in here,” Grandpa whispered.
We heard Jason go into his studio and move around. He was probably putting away his equipment.
“We should do something other than stand here looking guilty in case he does come in.” I took the measuring tape and moved over to the window.
Sure enough, seconds later, Jason knocked and then came on into the room. “Hey, there! I saw lights when I pulled in.” He gave me a mischievous grin. “Are you moving upstairs to be closer to me?”
“No.” I chuckled. “Grandpa is taking some measurements because he might know of someone who’d like to lease the space.” I justified the fib by telling myself that Grandpa might know of someone.
“Do you need any help, Dave?” he asked.
“Nope. We’re almost finished.”
I walked over to Jason, linked my arm through his, and walked him into the hall. “I’m looking forward to meeting your family this weekend. When I get home, I’m going through my recipe box to see what I might bring.”
“You don’t have to bring anything,” he said. “They’ll be happy just to meet you.”
“Now, you know I’m going to bring something.” I led him out of Grandpa’s sight so I could give him a kiss.
“You can bring that—but not to share.”
I smiled. “Never. Hug Rascal for me.”
He glanced toward the door, apparently made sure Grandpa wasn’t coming, and kissed me again. “See you tomorrow morning then.” He headed down the steps.
When I went back into the vacant shop, Max and Grandpa had their backs to me with their arms around themselves to make it look as if they were being embraced by someone else.
“Oh, ha-ha,” I said. “Very mature.”
Turning toward me with a smile, Grandpa said, “I heard something about meeting Jason’s family?”
“Yeah. Jason asked me over lunch. His grandparents are having a potluck.”
He and Max shared a knowing look.
“What?” I spread my hands. “Could we please just get back to the task at hand?”
“I’ll make sure Romeo has left the balcony,” Max said.
Grandpa went back to the closet, removed the box, and fixed the floor back. He’d secured the board so well it looked as if it had never been tampered with.
“That’s impressive work,” I said.
“Romeo has left the building and ventured forth into the night,” Max reported.
“Good. Let’s get out of here.” I opened the door.
Grandpa retrieved the box, closed the closet door, and came to stand beside me. He surveyed the room. “Looks good, don’t you think?”
“Nothing out of place,” I said. “You wouldn’t know we’d done anything except take a few measurements. And if you weren’t aware of it, you wouldn’t know we’d done that.”
“Well, we didn’t take many,” he said.
I locked the door back, and we went downstairs to Designs on You. I put the key to the vacant space on the mantle before making sure both entrances to Designs on You were locked.
Always delighted to see Grandpa, Jazzy wound around his ankles. When he placed the box onto the workroom table, she hopped up.
“Apparently, we aren’t the only ones eager to know what’s in here,” Grandpa said.
The box didn’t have a lock, but it hadn’t been opened in so long, it took some effort on Grandpa’s part. I picked up Jazzy to keep her out of his way. Finally, the lid was off.
Frankly, at first glance, it looked like it was filled with junk. Inside were the cigarette packs Max had mentioned.
“Holy cow!” Grandpa picked up one of the cigarette packs. “Carolina Brights.” His eyes widened. “There’s a card in this.”
“Uh-huh,” Max said. “Baseball cards. Mother thought they were frivolous, but Daddy loved them. He always put them back in their packs to keep them nice.”
I’d heard old baseball cards could be valuable, but Grandpa was removing the card from the pack as if he were Indiana Jones and he was getting ready to see the Holy Grail.
The card was a #33 Chief Bender. I’d never heard of a Chief Bender. I guess the card wasn’t important after all.
“Chief Bender.” Grandpa gaped at the card. “Well, I’ll be.”
“Was he famous?” I asked.
“Indeed he was.” He carefully slid the card back into the packet. “Let’s see what else we’ve got here.”
Along with a number of baseball cards—most of which featured players I’d never heard of but with whom Grandpa was impressed—were a 1904 Morgan silver dollar, several silver peace dollars dated 1921 through 1928, some wheat pennies, standing liberty quarters, and buffalo nickels.
But the last thing Grandpa lifted out of the box even made me gasp. It was a 1921 Babe Ruth baseball card, and it was autographed in blu
e ink.
“Your dad met Babe Ruth?” Grandpa asked incredulously.
“Yes, and so did I. We went down to the train station in Bristol in April of 1922 to meet him.” She laughed. “There was the awfulest crowd of people there. And the Bambino was ever so handsome. I caught his eye, but Daddy nixed that—after he got the autograph, of course.”
Following a moment of stunned silence, Grandpa said, “I have a friend who is a certified appraiser of collectibles and memorabilia. Max, do you trust me?”
“With my life—or, you know, I would if I were living. Why?”
“I’m going to get these things appraised, and I believe my friend can help me find a buyer,” he said.
“But how can we use the proceeds to help Dwight?” I asked.
“When Dwight remembers where he put that box of memorabilia his grandfather left him, he’ll give it to Zoe,” Max said. “Then she can use it however she wishes.”
“She can, as long as Maggie agrees,” I said.
“Phooey on that,” Max said. “I want Dwight and Zoe to be in charge of the money.”
“Then maybe we can set up a living trust for Dwight with Zoe as the beneficiary.” Grandpa put everything back in the box and replaced the lid. “But we’re putting the cart before the horse. Let’s find out the value of the box’s contents before we do anything else.”
“Should we tell Zoe?” I asked.
“No.”
Grandpa and Max spoke at once.
“Great minds, silver fox,” she said. “After we know what we’ve got, we’ll tell her. That way, we won’t get her hopes up for nothing.”
Chapter Nineteen
W hen we got out to the parking lot, Grandpa Dave told me to take Jazzy on home and get her squared away.
“I’ll pick us up some burgers and fries and meet you at your house,” he said.
“Sounds good.” I kissed his cheek. “Be careful.”
“You, too, Pup.”
I went home, slipped off my shoes, fed Jazzy, and went through the day’s mail. Most of the mail was junk, but I still took the time to flip through a catalog for beauty products.
Grandpa was somber when he arrived with our food.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
Nodding, he placed the bag and the drink tray onto the kitchen table.
“Thank you for dinner.” I was treading carefully, knowing he’d tell me what he had on his mind when he was ready.
We sat down at the table, and he looked across at me. “That box makes me nervous. When I got into the truck, I immediately put the box under the passenger seat; and when I got here, I locked the doors. That’s the first time I’ve ever felt obliged to lock my vehicle at this house before.”
“Grandpa, it’s always a good idea to keep your truck locked—you know that.”
“That’s true, but I’ve never been responsible for what amounts to someone’s life savings in a box—Max’s life’s savings.”
“The box was hidden upstairs and protected by a ghost—which is pretty cool when you think about it—for well over eighty years,” I said. “Why are you worried something will happen to it now?”
“Because we’ve moved it…changed the dynamic or status quo or whatever you want to call it. Max can’t watch out over it anymore. It’s up to me.”
“Relax.” I chuckled. “I feel like our roles are reversed this evening—I’m being the grandparent for a change. Besides, it isn’t Max’s life’s savings. It’s a box of her Dad’s trinkets. I’m sure they’re worth something, but I doubt it will be enough to make a difference in the big scheme of things.”
“That’s just it,” he said. “I phoned my friend the appraiser on the way here. She thinks that box could be worth a life-changing amount of money.”
Before I could wrap my mind around his statement about life-changing money, I asked, “Where did you tell her you got the box?”
“I said it belongs to a friend who’s in a nursing home and that the box was his grandfather’s,” he said. “The truth is always best, as long as the part about his deceased Aunt Max giving Dwight the box is omitted.”
As we ate our food, Grandpa decided to change the subject.
“Tell me about this potluck at Jason’s grandparents’ home,” he said.
“I’m nervous about it—I can tell you that. Although Jason seems to think this way will be more laidback than meeting his parents one-on-one.”
“I agree. There will presumably be a lot of people at this potluck, so you shouldn’t feel like you’re under a magnifying glass.”
“What dish should I take?” I asked.
“Banana pudding.”
I scrunched up my face. “Really? I love banana pudding, but I was thinking I should take something fancier.”
“Make it with meringue instead of whipped cream, and you’ll impress the whole family.”
“I’m not sure I can make it with the meringue,” I said.
He grinned. “I can.”
Was I really going to let my grandfather make the dish I was taking to Jason’s family’s potluck? Maybe we could make it together. That would work, wouldn’t it?
“Hey, I think Zoe gets off school early tomorrow. If she comes by the shop, what should I tell her about the box—if anything?” I asked.
“I’m meeting with the appraiser in the morning and will come by the shop as soon as we’re finished.”
Max and I were on pins and needles as we waited for Grandpa to come to the shop the next morning.
“I spoke with Dwight last night over social media,” Max said. “I told him I found a box of trinkets that belonged to his grandfather. Dwight remembered Daddy and still has a few coins Daddy gave him from the year he was born.”
“That’s sweet,” I said.
“Yeah. I told him there were some coins in the box I found and that there were also some baseball cards.” She laughed. “Dwight told me how Daddy used to regale him with the story of how he’d met Babe Ruth when the Bambino came to Bristol. I know Dwight became the apple of Daddy’s eye. I’d have loved to have known Dwight when he was a little boy—to have been able to see him with Daddy and with Dot.”
“I’m sure Dwight—or maybe Maggie—has some photographs.” I wished for the umpteenth time I could put a hand on Max’s shoulder. “Zoe would be happy to share them with you.”
“I know.” Max lifted her eyes to the ceiling to try to keep from tearing up. It didn’t work. “I hope I can find a way to help protect my nephew.”
“I believe you already have,” I told her.
I had created Marsha Billings’ muslin pattern yesterday after finishing Ruby Mills’ coat, and she breezed in for her first fitting.
She was wearing a plaid scarf and she tossed it over her shoulder dramatically. “Shall I have Mrs. Patmore make us some tea?” Marsha’s British accent was as bad as you might imagine.
Mine was probably worse when I responded, “But, of course, darling.”
She laughed. “So, let’s see this muslin.”
I brought out the semi-transparent garment.
Marsha placed her well-manicured hand over her chest. “Oh, my! Granny would be incensed!”
“Wouldn’t she though?” I led Marsha behind the Oriental screen and waited while she changed into the muslin.
She stepped out and spread her arms. “Ta-da!”
Max laughed. “I didn’t particularly like this bird when she first landed here, but she’s growing on me.”
“It’s a perfect fit,” I said. “Your gown is going to be beautiful.”
Sienna popped into the workroom then and didn’t seem as surprised as I’d have imagined she might be to see a half-naked woman standing in front of the screen.
“Hi.” To Marsha, she asked, “Why are you wearing a see-through paper bag? Is it a costume?”
Marsha stepped behind the screen. “Anything you need, Amanda, before I get dressed again?”
“No, Marsha. I’ll make the gown to the muslin patt
ern, and it will look amazing.”
“What are you doing?” Sienna called out to Marsha.
“Getting my clothes back on,” Marsha retorted. “Is that all right with you?”
“Sure, but I mean, what were you doing in the weird outfit?” she asked. “Are you playing a paper bag in a Christmas play or something?”
Max was getting far too much amusement out of the situation.
Ignoring the ghost and concentrating on the pint-sized spy, who really needed to learn to knock before entering a workroom, I said, “What Ms. Billings was wearing is called a muslin. The muslin lets me know—before I cut into expensive fabric—that I’ve got the measurements correct so that I can now make Ms. Billings’ actual gown.”
“When do you think that will be ready?” Marsha asked, stepping out from behind the screen fully dressed.
“Within the next couple of days if your fabric arrives in time.” I said a silent prayer that the material I ordered would arrive today.
“What you said about the muslin makes sense, I guess,” Sienna said, “but that really would make a cool paper bag costume. Just something to keep in mind.”
“Actually, my husband might like it.” Marsha winked at me.
“Why? Do you think he’d make a good paper bag?” Sienna asked.
Max doubled over with laughter, and I had to turn and suddenly look at something really fascinating in the other room.
At last, we saw Grandpa pull into the parking lot. Max and I raised our squeezed fists in excitement.
“Wonder what she said?” Max asked.
“We’ll find out soon enough.”
Actually, it wasn’t soon enough because Grandpa met with delay after delay. First, we heard Frank come out of Everything Paper to shoot the breeze. Before Frank was finished chatting up Grandpa, Trish Oakes hurried down the stairs.
Max poked her head through the wall so she could listen and report back to me.
“Crabapple Oakes is asking him about the space,” Max said. “Does his friend want to come by and see it?”
“What’s he saying?” I asked.
“Says he’ll let her know. She’s not happy about it, but Dave is charming, and she needs to lease the space, so she’s not being rude.”
Christmas Cloches and Corpses Page 10