by J. B. Lynn
“I’m not so impressed by my rescuer so far,” the toy complained.
“Shut up,” she muttered.
Stretching upward again, she almost reached the keyhole but ended up being a quarter-inch short of her goal. At only five foot one, her height, or lack of it, had always been her Achilles heel. She collapsed back in her seat and tried to catch her breath. She’d broken out into a sweat, either from the Florida sun or from the exertion. She frowned at the door. She didn’t really want to go back to the coffee shop and ask her sisters for help. The last thing she wanted to do was reinforce their image of her as the little sister who always needed taking care of. On the other hand, she knew she couldn’t stay baking in the sun. She considered rolling back to the bakery, maybe someone there would take pity on her. After all, it wasn’t like she needed a lot of assistance, just a teensy favor.
“Need a hand?” The man’s voice rumbled over her quietly from behind.
Even though he had spoken quietly, she yelped, startled.
Twisting awkwardly in the wheelchair, she found Ash lounging a yard away, arms crossed over his chest, watching her with bemusement.
She desperately wanted to tell him that she did not need his help. But the truth was, she did.
“I can’t reach the lock,” she confessed.
Nodding, he moved forward, plucked the key from her hand, and smoothly unlocked the door for her. He swung it open and waved her inside.
She tried to move but forgot she had locked the wheels into place, so nothing happened.
Flustered, she struggled to disengage the lock before rolling into the shop.
“Take your time,” he murmured, the steadiness of his tone a balm to her frazzled nerves.
Finally, she rolled across the worn wooden floor into the cool, shadowy shop.
The dog from the beach charged toward her, flew through the air, and landed squarely in her wet lap. She was grateful to him for covering the damp spot.
Ash closed the door to keep the air conditioning in. “You’ve got a dog.”
Beatrice shrugged. “So it would appear. He’s a stray that found us.”
“Lucky dog.”
The dog yipped his agreement, making Beatrice giggle.
Ash gave her an easy smile that warmed her in ways the sun never could. “I’ve always loved the way this place smells.”
“I guess it’s a relief from your varnish and sawdust,” Beatrice said.
It wasn’t the nicest thing to say and she wanted to bite her tongue, but Ash just chuckled.
“I guess you could say that. But I kind of like the sawdust. It reminds me of hours spent at my grandfather’s place.” He glanced around. “All of you girls are staying here?”
“We’re not girls,” Beatrice informed him with a twinge of annoyance.
He nodded. “Sorry. It’s just that Letty always called you her girls.”
A lump rose in Beatrice’s throat and she had to blink away tears.
“Where are you ladies staying?”
“Edwina, I mean Winnie, and Amanda, that’s my other sister,” Beatrice explained, “are staying upstairs in the apartment. I’m down here on the cot.” She pointed to the back corner of the shop. A makeshift cot had been set up in front of the dressing room area.
The carpenter nodded slowly, a slight scowl of disapproval marring his otherwise attractive face. “I guess you can’t manage the stairs.”
“I guess you could say that,” she said. Uncomfortable with having had her current weakness pointed out, she rolled herself over to the table that displayed the costume jewelry. Needing something to do, she began to play with it.
“If there’s anything you need…” Ash offered.
“I’m fine.”
He reached for the handle of the door and then turned back. “Where are you from?”
Concentrating on the baubles in front of her, she answered without looking at him. “Upstate New York. Amanda still lives there, but she’s considering coming down here and taking over the shop.”
“Really?”
“They’re at the coffee shop arguing about it right now.”
“So, she’d run it alone? Or would you help her?”
His interest was evident, and she didn’t think it had anything to do with the shop. She tried to ignore the answering attraction that roared to life in her.
“I don’t know.” Beatrice’s answer surprised herself. “If you’d asked me a week ago if I’d ever consider staying, I would have told you you were crazy.”
“Was that before…?” Ash waved his hand in her general direction, encompassing her injuries.
“Yes, it was before I fell.”
“What happened?”
“I lost a dare.”
He raised his eyebrows, silently asking for more information.
She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
To his credit, Ash didn’t push her on the issue. Instead, he said, “Well, it would be great to have you as a neighbor.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Well, Letty was a great neighbor. And all she ever talked about was how great the three of you are, so I think it makes sense that you’d be great neighbors.”
Beatrice didn’t have a reason to argue with his logic.
He glanced down at the two piles of jewelry that she’d made. “Why are you separating them?”
“There’s some good stuff in here,” Beatrice explained. “Stuff that we could get a lot more money for.”
“So, you are going to stay,” Ash said with genuine excitement.
Beatrice shrugged and made a show of petting the dog who’d curled up on her lap, ready to take a nap.
“How do you know what’s good and what’s not?” Ash asked curiously, moving closer so that he could take a better look at her piles.
As he moved closer, she got a whiff of his sawdust and varnish.
“Letty always said I had an eye for quality,” Beatrice admitted. “I’m pretty good at knowing what’s valuable.”
Ash gave her a strange look but didn’t comment.
“I’m a lot younger than my sisters,” Beatrice explained. “So I accompanied Letty on a lot of her garage sale shopping trips. She’d always buy what made her feel good, and I always used to buy what I thought I could re-sell for a profit on eBay.” She smiled at the memory.
“Is that how Letty came to open the shop?” He picked up a gold-tone necklace from the non-valuable pile and let it dangle off his callous-covered fingers.
“I think it really appealed to Letty’s idea that everything deserved a second chance, everybody deserves a second chance.” Beatrice felt a twinge of guilt as she admitted this. Letty had certainly given her more than her share of second chances.
“Well, I hope it all works out,” Ash said. “I have to get back to my shop. I’ve got a customer stopping in.”
“Thanks for your help,” Beatrice said.
He flashed her a wide grin. “Any time.”
5
Amanda and Winnie glared across the table at each other, oblivious to the bustling activity that filled the coffee shop.
“I need a change,” Amanda said tightly. “And I’m pretty sure that Bea needs some stability.”
“Is that because she can’t even stand up?” Winnie asked sarcastically.
Amanda raised her eyebrows. “I can run the store,” Amanda said quietly. “You don’t have to have anything to do with it. You can keep running your ad agency, Winnie. Nobody expects you to move down here. I’m not asking you to give up your dream. I’m just asking you not to destroy Letty’s.”
Winnie looked away, twisting the paper napkin that she held around her finger. It turned white as she nearly cut off the blood supply.
“You said yourself, we can’t sell it for eighteen months,” Amanda reminded her impatiently. “At least give us the time to try it for eighteen months. If it’s a disaster, we’ll unload it. But if it works…”
“It’s
gone,” Winnie said quietly.
“What?”
“My business. It’s gone. We’ve closed our doors.”
Confused, Amanda sat back in her seat. “What? When? Why?”
Winnie shrugged, keeping her eyes averted.
Amanda waited for an answer.
“You wouldn’t understand,” Winnie said finally. “It’s business things.”
“Business things?” Amanda mocked. “Is that the technical term for it? I know you think I was just a glorified housewife, but I did run an office. I have some understanding of business things.”
Winnie scowled at her, looked down at her finger that had started to turn blue, and released the napkin. It fell to the table in a crumpled mess. She began to obsessively smooth it.
Feeling badly that she’d let her insecurities about her work history get the better of her, Amanda frowned.
Leaning forward, Amanda reached her hand out and covered her sister’s blue finger with her hand. “Seriously, Winnie” she said kindly. “You can tell me.”
Winnie snatched back her hand, sat back in her seat, and stared at the floor. “I made a bad decision.”
“We’ve all made bad decisions,” Amanda sympathized, thinking she was the queen of them.
“But mine cost me everything,” Winnie complained.
Amanda waited for her sister to find the words to confide in her.
Winnie, though, had nothing else to add.
“What happened?” Amanda asked patiently. She was well acquainted with her sister’s pride. It was the thing about her that Letty had always said reminded her of their mother.
Winnie shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Amanda frowned but didn’t pursue the matter. She knew that her sister did things on her own schedule. “What are you going to do?”
Winnie jumped to her feet. “Right now? I’m going to go for a walk.” With that, she stalked out of the coffee shop, leaving Amanda alone at the table.
Amanda picked up her coffee and forced herself to sip it as she tried to quell the tide of rage rising in her. She was used to her middle sister storming out of discussions. It was the way she had handled things all through their childhood. It was also the way her own ex-husband had done things. Amanda recognized that the level of anger she was experiencing wasn’t all directed at Winnie and she knew enough not to voice her frustration.
Glancing around, Amanda realized the coffee shop had become packed while they talked. The only empty chair was the one that Winnie had just vacated.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a man walk into the shop. Something about him caught her attention, but she couldn’t put her finger on exactly what it was. Maybe it was because he was in a gray, long-sleeved dress shirt, which was a contrast to the brightly colored, short-sleeved casual wardrobe of most everyone else in the beach-vibe coffee shop. Maybe it was the way his eyes scanned the entire room, as though he were cataloguing the occupants. Maybe it was the way his gaze locked with hers for a split second too long.
Or maybe it was the fact that Piper, who didn’t seem to smile much at all, was grinning ear-to-ear as she asked him for his order.
Amanda looked away and closed her eyes for a long moment. Her eyes still ached and the sun bouncing off the car windshields outside made her discomfort worse. She wondered how long the effect from the lightning strike would last. She’d asked the physician at the hospital, but he had said it was nothing to worry about.
When she opened her eyes again, a well-dressed man in a seersucker suit had taken Winnie’s seat.
She was a little surprised he hadn’t asked permission, but considering there were no empty chairs, it wasn’t like she was going to kick him out of the seat. Since he was totally ignoring her, she took a long look at him, taking in his dark hair, hawk-like nose, cleft chin, and blue eyes that sparkled a lot like the Gulf of Mexico waters. He glanced at her coolly.
She offered him a polite smile and returned her attention to her coffee cup. Holding the cup in one hand, she played with one of the earrings that Letty had bequeathed her. The stone felt warm to the touch, and she took some comfort in knowing that she had part of her godmother with her.
The gray-shirted man at the counter got his order from Piper and, holding the cup, he surveyed the room again, his gaze sweeping quickly but efficiently over every face in the crowd. Again, for a spilt second too long, he looked at her.
Flustered, she looked away. Then he was gone, leaving the shop just as quickly as he had entered.
Amanda watched the smile fade from Piper’s face, and she felt a twinge of sympathy for the woman.
Finishing her coffee, she offered the last cookie to the man she shared a table with. “Would you like this?”
He looked at her, startled.
“Would you like this?” she repeated.
He didn’t respond, just kept staring at her as though she were some sort of freak.
“Okay,” she said. “Suit yourself.” She got up from the table, carried her cup and the cookie back to the counter, and walked out of the store. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the well-dressed man was still staring at her with a look of absolute shock on his face. She had no idea what that meant, but she was too tired to try to figure it out.
6
Having finally finished going through all of the jewelry, Beatrice moved over to where Letty had displayed the other accessories. She felt like she was panning for hidden gold.
Behind her, the door of the store burst open, the bell overhead jangling.
“I’m so sorry I’m late.”
Beatrice swung her wheelchair around so that she could see whom the new visitor was.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” the woman in her mid-thirties repeated. As she spoke, she pulled long blonde hair back into a ponytail. She practically vibrated with nervous energy.
“Hi,” Beatrice said carefully
“Hi,” the woman replied. “You’re Beatrice?”
Beatrice nodded.
“I’m Greta. Greta Markle.”
Beatrice smiled. The woman looked familiar, but for the life of her she couldn’t place her face. She assumed she’d been at Letty’s memorial service, but she’d shaken the hands of so many people there, they’d all blurred together. “I’m sorry. I’m not the best with faces.”
“Oh, it’s okay,” Greta said quickly. “I know there were a lot of people at the service.”
Beatrice nodded. “Letty was a popular woman and knew so many people.” She’d hoped that by saying that, the woman would give her a clue as to what her relationship had been with Letty, because the woman’s overabundance of energy was making her a little nervous.
“Oh, she certainly was,” Greta said. “Sometimes it felt like she knew everybody in town.”
“Pickle ball,” Beatrice decided aloud.
“Sorry?”
“You were in Letty’s pickle ball league?” Beatrice guessed, remembering how her godmother had once mentioned she’d met half her neighbors playing pickle ball.
Greta wrinkled her nose, shook her ponytail and chuckled. “No, I’m not sure anyone under the age of fifty-five is even allowed to play pickle ball. I’m a part-time employee here.”
Beatrice winced.
“I’m here from ten till two, Monday through Friday, unless my kids are off from school.”
“Why don’t we start again,” Beatrice suggested. “Hi, I’m Bea. Letty was my godmother.”
Greta advanced toward her, extending her hand. “Hi, Beatrice,” she said with a wide smile. “I’m Greta. It’s nice to meet you. I’m here to help from Monday through Friday, ten to two, unless my kids are home.”
“Okay,” Beatrice said.
“Are we going to open today?” Greta asked, glancing around the store.
Beatrice felt a surge of panic. As the youngest, she really wasn’t the sister who made executive decisions like that. The last she knew, Amanda and Winnie were fighting over that very issue. She did
n’t want to get in the middle of that.
“I’m not—” Beatrice began.
The door opened behind them, bell jangling, and Amanda marched in. “Do you know how Winnie—” She stopped her sentence midway through when she realized that Beatrice wasn’t alone.
Beatrice waved at her. “Amanda, this is Greta. She helps out at the shop Monday through Friday from ten until two.”
“Unless my kids are out of school,” Greta supplied helpfully.
Amanda smiled. “I know who you are, Greta, Letty talked a lot about you. You were in her ukulele club, right?”
Greta laughed. “Nope. Not me.” She gave Beatrice a wink. “Again, the fifty-five and over restriction.”
“Letty was involved in so many activities,” Amanda began.
“Anyway,” Beatrice interrupted, “Greta, here, wants to know if we’re opening the shop today.” She looked to her oldest sister and waited for an answer.
Amanda hesitated and then nodded. “We are.” With that, Amanda went back to the front door, turned the open sign around, and said, “Bring it on.”
The dog woofed his approval.
“People are accustomed to the door being propped open by Angus when the shop is open,” Greta offered.
“Angus?” Amanda asked, clearly confused.
Greta hurried across the shop and began wrestling out the door the three foot tall winking Loch Ness Monster wearing a tartan cap and holding an ashtray. “Angus,” she panted as she struggled.
Bea guessed the ashtray must be heavy and she secretly wondered if there was another, less labor-intensive method to indicating the store was ready for business, but she didn’t think it was the time to make that suggestion.
Once the door was open and Greta came back inside, fussing with her ponytail, Amanda asked, “How do we get started?”
The part-time employee glanced around. “Well, usually on Tuesdays the pickers come in,” she said.
“Pickers?” Beatrice asked.
Greta nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, they shop around at garage sales and estate sales then they bring the stuff in here to sell. Tuesdays is one of our busiest days in terms of taking in merchandise.”