A Future for His Twins

by Susanne Dietze

  The mayor flipped on the lights, setting overhead fluorescents flickering. They would definitely need replacing with LEDs. Maybe brushed nickel track lighting, mounted in such a way as to complement the ceiling beams rather than compete with them.

  The mayor noted the direction of his gaze and gestured at the beams as if she were a game show hostess showing off a prize display. “They’re original, but decorative now, of course. The twenty properties on this section of Main Street are original to the town’s founding in 1852 and by city charter must maintain their authenticity as historic sites, but that doesn’t mean the buildings are dilapidated or uncomfortable in any way. Everything is safe and sturdy, compliant with state and local codes.”

  A touch of the building’s original charm balanced with modern conveniences and security. Perfect. “Flooring looks good.”

  “Come see the rest,” the mayor invited.

  Faith followed along, uninvited but quiet. They toured the office in the back and a larger space that would make an ideal break room for employees. The restrooms were clean, if not as modernized as he’d hoped. Perhaps he could make a few changes, but otherwise?

  This place was perfect. Well, almost. “Smells a little musty in here. Mildew?”

  “Assuredly not.” The mayor blinked at the suggestion.

  Faith walked past them. “The building’s been closed up for a few weeks so the air is stagnant. Baking soda and vinegar will freshen up the place.” She paused to stare at the south-facing wall at—nothing that Tom could see.

  What was she looking at? If there was a problem, an imperfection or issue, he needed to know. Immediately. “Is something wrong?”

  Faith shifted her cat into the crook of her left arm so she had a free hand to trace a line on the wall. “See this crack here? It’s faint because it’s been painted over.”

  Tom couldn’t see anything from ten feet away, but Nora stopped patting the cat’s head to rub the wall. Logan, who’d been by Tom’s side the entire tour, inched closer and stuck his fingernails into what must be a seam in the paint.

  “I feel it, Dad.”

  That didn’t sound good.

  Faith was smiling, though. “This was—is, actually—a door connecting this building to the store next door. The owners of the original buildings were cousins, and this space was a livery, where horses and buggies were rented out. The store on the other side sold animal feed and seeds, but now it’s my store, Faith’s Finds. I’d like to open the door again to connect the buildings.”

  “What’s in Faith’s Finds?” Nora poked the wall as if she could push through and enter the antiques store.

  “Old things,” Tom answered before Faith could.

  “That’s one way of looking at it.” She glanced back at him as if disappointed.

  “I didn’t mean to sound dismissive of your business. Sorry.”

  “But you don’t like antiques, I take it. That’s all right. Tastes differ.”

  The last antique couch he’d sat on was lumpy and hard. Plop on that every day to watch sports? No, thanks. He preferred his year-old leather sofa and matching loveseat and recliners. But that wasn’t the point. As far as he was concerned, other people could enjoy vintage stuff all they wanted—in her store.

  This building, though, was Tom’s future. It was personal for him. Surely, once Faith heard his side of things—that he was doing this for his children and to invest in the town where he’d grown up—she’d relent.

  And if she didn’t?

  He would do whatever he could to get this building, even if it set him at odds with his new next-door neighbor. He could endure a lifetime of Faith Latham’s resentment, if it meant stability and peace for his children.

  Chapter Two

  Faith appreciated the tour of the shop, even if it hadn’t been intended for her. She hadn’t been inside the space since it was last occupied by Leonard’s gift shop, decked floor to ceiling with candles, wind chimes, postcard racks and knickknacks. Now that she could view the bare walls and floor, she had a better idea of what she would need to do when she set up her museum here.

  She’d seen enough, though. She turned back to the mayor and Tom. “Thank you for allowing me to look.”

  The mayor’s stern expression was a stark reminder Faith hadn’t really been invited in the first place.

  “We’re finished, too.” Tom gathered his children and followed Faith outside.

  Mayor Hughes locked the door behind them. “Remember, if you both submit applications within two days, you’ll be invited to present proposals to city council at our meeting on the sixteenth.”

  Less than two weeks to come up with a proposal? Faith gulped. That was hardly any time at all.

  “That’s plenty of time.” Tom grinned.

  Oh, yeah. He’d been on the debate team in high school, hadn’t he? Great.

  Tom shook the mayor’s hand and nudged the children to do the same. The mayor didn’t give Faith a chance at a handshake, however, ignoring Faith’s extended hand and rushing off north in the direction of city hall.

  Huh. The mayor might not like history the way Faith did, but some things never went out of style. Like common courtesy.

  Faith decided she should probably follow after Mayor Hughes and submit her rental application at city hall before it was time to open her store. “Nice to see you again, Tom, and to meet you, Logan and Nora. Roscoe, too.”

  “Bye, kitty.” Nora stroked Bettina’s triangular ears. Logan looked like he wanted to pat the cat but held back.

  Tom didn’t say goodbye, either. Instead, his brow furrowed. “Could we discuss the situation, Faith? Maybe come to an understanding?”

  One where she agreed to let him have the store? No. But maybe she could persuade him to back away so she could have it. Turning in the application could wait. “Sure. Why don’t you come into my shop?”

  “What about Roscoe?”

  “Widow’s Peak Creek is dog-friendly.” She tipped her chin down at a water-filled stainless steel pet dish near the green chair where Bettina had sat. “You’ll see bowls like this in front of several stores. Leashed dogs are welcome in most places as long as they’re well-behaved.”

  Which explained why Bettina hadn’t bolted when Roscoe got close. She was used to dogs coming around.

  “The kids will be well-behaved, too.” Tom exchanged loaded glances with his twins and tightened his grip on Roscoe’s leash. “I know stores like this are full of breakables, kids, so don’t touch anything.”

  Logan grinned. “Not even the floor with my feet?”

  He was definitely the shyer of the twins, and it warmed Faith that he was thawing to her.

  “Very funny, kiddo.” Tom grinned back at the boy. “You know what I mean.”

  “Hands to ourselves.” Nora folded her arms over her chest.

  “Actually, there are plenty of things you can touch. I’ll show you.” Faith unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Welcome to Faith’s Finds.”

  The kids tiptoed inside, as if afraid to make noise. Tom’s steps were hesitant, too, and he gripped Roscoe’s leash like he feared the dog would crash into a tea set. Once he cleared the threshold, though, his shoulders relaxed. “Wow, this is nice, Faith.”

  “Thanks.” She couldn’t take credit for having a designer’s eye to achieve the look of the displays, however. She’d visited other antiques stores and boutiques for inspiration, but she’d been drawn most of all to the layouts of her favorite tea shops. Like a home with no walls, she’d grouped her wares in such a way as to resemble rooms, using decorative screens to separate the spaces, creating cozy nooks for sitting, filling vintage vases with silk floral arrangements and displaying smaller items on bookshelves.

  And like a tea shop, she offered tea to her customers, hot or iced depending on the season. Although she served hers in tiny paper cups, not china.
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  The children gaped at the area Faith lovingly called the “farmhouse,” where three galvanized windmill fans hung above a scarred kitchen table. A wood-carved checkerboard waited for players. “Go ahead,” she encouraged.

  Tom must have felt the checkerboard was nice and safe, because he stopped hovering and wandered with Roscoe toward the Victorian bedroom furniture, to which Faith had added a hundred-year-old fireplace mantel topped with a gilt-framed mirror and sepia-tinted portraits. “This looks like a room at a bed-and-breakfast.”

  “I’ve sold pieces like this to a few hotels, including the Creekside Inn.” It was the town’s prettiest B&B.

  “I spent years in marketing and design, and I’ve got to say, you’ve done a good job. I didn’t get a look at your front window when we came in, but from the back it’s inviting, too.”

  She’d parked a refurbished robin’s-egg blue cruiser bicycle in the front window, filling the basket with dried flowers and surrounding it with potted grasses and a blue fabric kite. “Thanks. My favorite seasons with the shop windows are Christmas and autumn.”

  A few notes of Westminster Chimes carried faintly through the store. Uh-oh. The grandfather clock was telling her it was half past the hour, and she had a few things to do before the store opened in thirty minutes. “I’ll be right back. I need to put the tea kettle on.”

  Not the celebratory tea she’d hoped to share with her assistant, Angie, but all hope was not lost. Nevertheless, a flutter of nerves spread from her stomach as she made her way to the tiny kitchenette at the rear of the store. She filled the large kettle with water, set it to boil and measured out loose-leaf tea into silk sachets so the beverage would be ready for customers.

  If any came today. Spring weekdays were not her busiest season. If it hadn’t been for that project she’d done a few months back for that boutique hotel in San Francisco, she might not have been able to pay the rent during the post-Christmas slump.

  A flutter of panic spread from her stomach and quickened her pulse. Tom’s interest in the old livery and the mayor’s implied support of his endeavor was shaking her fragile trust in God’s provision, but she mustn’t allow herself to slip into fear. Despite her family’s apathy and the mayor’s downright disinterest in preserving the town’s legacy by supporting a museum, Faith had to remember she was not alone. God was with her.

  He knew the museum was her dream. She believed He’d put it into her heart, and if that was the case, she should stop staring blankly at the teakettle and put her beliefs into practice.

  Lord, I’m deciding here and now to trust You with my bills and the museum. Show me what I need to do and help me to leave the rest to You.

  When she returned with the large kettle, Tom and the kids were in the 1950s-era kitchen set up in the rear of the store. Logan was playing with an eggbeater and Nora had dropped to her haunches to peek into the oven. Tom flinched when he saw Faith. “Hope you don’t mind. These things were down low, so I let them touch gently.”

  “That’s fine. Nothing fragile is low enough for them to reach, except for some of the vases.” Faith poured the hot water into the stainless steel urn on the tea cart, then dropped the sachet of tea leaves inside. “I want people, young and old, to experience and enjoy things from the past.”

  “Is that why you want to open a museum next door?”

  She nodded, glad to discuss her favorite topic—and maybe persuade him to look for another site for his store. “Since you grew up here, you know Widow’s Peak Creek is a vital part of the California gold rush history. The city charter made some provisions to preserve the town heritage, like ensuring these twenty buildings on old Main Street are protected—plus a few others the mayor didn’t mention, like the old church across Church Street—but so much more could be done. There’s nowhere for visitors or townsfolk alike to be educated about our history. I’ve lobbied for a museum, but Mayor Hughes and the council repeatedly insist the town isn’t in a financial position to take one on at the moment. So I decided to take matters into my own hands.” Grinning, she beckoned Nora and Logan. “Kids, let me show you something.”

  In the shop’s south corner, she’d created an exhibit on the area, complete with a glass cabinet of gold-mining tools, photographs and informative plaques. She tapped the glass over one sepia-tinted picture. “Here’s a picture of the big boulder in the creek at Hughes Park, across from Church Street. Have you been there yet?”

  “It looks the same, but it’s in color now instead of all brown.” Nora squinted.

  “The brown is just the way photos were in the old days. Anyway, the boulder makes the creek jut around it in a V-shape, which gives our creek its name. And this picture here is the Raven Mine, where one of the largest gold nuggets was ever found in the state. Here are a few tools people used to mine gold.”

  “This finds gold?” Logan pointed to a tiny pair of pliers.

  “Oops, no. Those were used by the dentist way back then to extract teeth.” She’d put them on a different shelf than the gold-mining stuff, but the placard describing the dentistry tools had slipped. She had too many items and not enough space for them all.

  Nora squealed and cupped her cheeks as if to protect them from the implement. Logan’s eyes lit up as he looked at his dad as if for approval.

  “And this photo here, the fellow with the big mustache? That’s Sheriff Fleetwood. He’s the stuff of legend.” As well as Faith’s second cousin a few times removed.

  “Did he—?” Logan glanced at her, then clamped his lips shut.

  She met Logan’s gaze, the sweet dark depths full of curiosity and hesitation. His shyness touched her in that part of herself that was still a shy kid herself, so she grinned. “Did he what? Catch bad guys?”

  Logan nodded.

  “He sure did. There are lots of books about him, including one for kids your age written by a local author. I have a stack of them on the shelf right by the cash register. See them over there? You can go get a copy and take it home with you. A gift from me.”

  “Where are your manners, guys?” Tom called after the kids, who’d taken off running to the cash register.

  Both kids spun around. “Thanks!” Nora’s gratitude echoed off the walls.

  “Thank you.” Logan’s voice was softer, but he was smiling.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Tom looked surprised. “I’d be happy to buy it.”

  “It’s my little way of welcoming them to town. It’s got to be a big change for them, moving here.”

  “It is, but they’re excited, too. New house, new school, more time with their grandparents.”

  “I’m glad.” Loss and change could be devastating to a child. Or an adult. But that was not a conversation she wanted to have with a near stranger. Especially when she was trying to talk him out of pursuing occupancy in the building next door.

  She tapped her fingernail against the cabinet, redirecting his attention back to the previous topic of conversation. “This stuff here is just a fraction of what I’ve gathered. I have items from each of the original twenty shops here on Main Street—the dentist, the post office, the assayer, the barber, all of them. Plus, documents and artifacts from the Native people groups, as well as the mines, especially the Raven. The people of this town and tourists should have the opportunity to be enriched by learning about what happened here. We shouldn’t lose our ties to our past. And if the city council can’t fund it, I will. I have the items and the knowledge to guide visitors through the museum. Surely, you can see the merits of my plan.”

  “I’m all for education, and yes, museums are important.” Tom’s gaze left hers as Roscoe tugged on the leash, clearly wanting to explore an Edwardian sofa. Tom’s grin was sheepish. “I appreciate you letting me bring Roscoe inside. I would’ve normally left him at home, but there are contracting crews coming in and out today.”

  She would’ve liked to keep
talking about the museum in hopes of persuading him to let her have the building, but he’d turned the conversation. Oh, well. She was trusting God with it, right? “Where’s your house?”

  “At the end of Arroyo Road. The house used to belong to the Miller family.”

  She knew the place, a mid-century modern with a glass wall offering a view of the creek behind it. “I’m sure your parents are delighted to have you and the kids back in town.”

  His smile shifted, no longer reaching his eyes. “They are. We stayed with them for a week, until we could move into the house. Still a few things to do, though. I’m looking forward to getting settled—not just the house, but the business.”

  Thanks, God, for him returning the conversation back to the building. “An outdoor gear store, you said?”

  “There isn’t one within twenty-five miles, which is too bad, because of our proximity to excellent camping spots, bike paths and hiking trails. That old livery is a fantastic location for one. I’m going to push out the back wall where the office is to accommodate a putting green, mount a rock climbing wall on the stone wall for—”

  “A what?”

  “Putting green?”

  “No. A rock wall, you said?”

  “You know, so people who want to try rock climbing can practice in a safe environment. A wholesome activity for kids, too. They’re popular.”

  Oh, she knew. She’d tried one a few years ago when she visited a friend in Sacramento. But she also now knew something that would give her leverage over him when it came to the city council’s decision.

  The store would be hers, and all she had to do was keep her mouth shut.

  But she wouldn’t sleep at night if she didn’t tell him the truth. Tom might be her opponent, but she wasn’t the sort of person to step on someone. Not when she could help him find another way. One that didn’t make them adversaries.

  “Tom, the building next door isn’t right for you at all. But I just thought of something even better.”

  * * *