One Woman's Junk

by J. B. Lynn

  “Is there a special way to prepare for them?” Amanda asked.

  Greta shook her head. “Not really. Letty used to smudge the goods before putting them out to sell on the floor.”

  “Smudge?” Beatrice asked.

  “Burn sage,” Greta explained.

  “Smudging is believed to be a way of clearing the negative energies attached to items and places,” Amanda spouted.

  “Kind of like a metaphysical shower,” Greta explained.

  “It seems like a waste of time,” Amanda said.

  Greta frowned. “Your shop. Your call.”

  Not wanting there to be tension between her sister and their employee, Bea interjected, “What else should we do?”

  “We should probably get rid of the cot,” Greta suggested. “The dressing rooms get pretty busy.”

  Amanda and Greta packed away the cot while all Beatrice could do was supervise. She hated feeling so useless while the others were so busy, but she really didn’t know what she could do. She was sitting there, feeling a little sorry for herself, when Winnie returned.

  The middle Concordia sister wrestled Angus back inside, allowing the door to close. “Why are you letting all the air conditioning out?”

  “Greta said—” Bea began to explain.

  Taking in the fact that the cot was gone, Winnie interrupted, “Are you leaving?”

  “No,” Amanda said. “We’re just moving her stuff out of the way since we’re opening the store.”

  Beatrice watched as her two older sisters had a stare down across the shop.

  Usually, it was Winnie who won these things, she was the pushiest. Beatrice was surprised to see Amanda wasn’t backing down in this instance.

  But Winnie just shrugged. “Okay.”

  “Okay?” Beatrice blurted out, confused and surprised by her sister’s capitulation.

  Winnie nodded. “Maybe she’s right.”

  Beatrice blinked. She couldn’t remember Winnie ever saying that Amanda had been right about anything. Come to think of it, she’d never heard Winnie say anybody was ever right about anything.

  She was barely over that shock when the bell over the door jangled and someone else walked into the shop.

  7

  They all turned to see who had walked into the shop, anticipatory smiles already lifting the corners of their mouths, and were surprised to see that their visitor was a man.

  “Him again,” Amanda muttered under her breath.

  Beatrice gave her sister a sidelong look, wondering what the man’s significance was. He looked a little overdressed in his long-sleeved gray shirt, but nothing else about him was particularly striking. Bea wondered if he’d said something unpleasant to her at Letty’s service.

  She watched with interest as Amanda tucked her hair behind her ears.

  “Hello.” Winnie stepped forward with a polite smile.

  Before she could get any further, the dog launched itself from the back of the shop, barking its head off as it raced toward the man. Stopping two feet away from him, the little dog just yapped and barked and whined incessantly.

  The man did not seem annoyed by the little dog’s reaction. Instead, he crouched down and extended his hand. “Hey there, little guy.”

  The little dog continued to bark.

  “Do something about it,” Winnie said to Amanda and Beatrice. “We can’t have a dog barking at customers.”

  Her sisters looked at each other helplessly.

  “Hush!” Amanda ordered, clapping her hands twice.

  To everyone’s surprise, the dog complied.

  “Sorry about that,” Winnie said to the man.

  “Not a problem,” he said. “I like dogs.” As though to prove his point, he carefully pet the top of the dog’s head. “What’s his name?”

  Again, the Concordia sisters exchanged a look.

  “We don’t know,” Beatrice admitted.

  He looked up, surprised. “You just adopted him?”

  “More like, we just found him,” Beatrice said.

  “More like, he found us,” Winnie corrected. “And he’s not staying.”

  Bea felt a surge of disappointment. She’d quickly grown fond of the scruffy mutt.

  The man got slowly to his feet, taking his time so as not to startle the dog. “If you take him to a local vet office, they can scan him to see if he has a microchip. It might help you find his owner.”

  “That’s great,” Winnie said enthusiastically. “The sooner we can get him home, the better.”

  The dog rolled over on his back, an act of total supplication.

  “I think he understood you,” Bea said.

  “I think you hurt his feelings,” Amanda murmured.

  Winnie ignored both of them and their canine companion. “How can we help you?”

  The man slowly reached into his back pocket and pulled out a leather case. “Detective Tom Keller,” he said slowly, like he knew they weren’t going to take it well.

  The Concordia sisters exchanged a worried look this time.

  “I’m looking for Leticia Gould.” He flashed his badge.

  “Well, you’re not going to find her,” Bea blurted out.

  “Beatrice!” Winnie chastised. “She’s dead,” she said when she saw the detective’s eyebrows raise.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Dead?”

  Winnie nodded. “A week ago.”

  “Eight days ago,” Amanda corrected.

  The detective cleared his throat and looked away. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you,” Winnie said.

  “But I’m here on official business,” the detective continued.

  “That doesn’t sound good,” Greta said, coming in from the back storeroom.

  Winnie’s eyes widened. “Who’s she?”

  Ignoring them, Detective Tom Keller pulled out his phone, pushed a couple of buttons, and appeared to be reading notes. “Leticia Gould has been accused of stealing an item from Amber Axelrod.”

  “Are you crazy?” Scowling, Amanda glared at him. “Letty would never steal anything from anybody.” She marched toward the detective, incensed. “Who are you to come in here and accuse her of something so terrible?”

  Clenching his jaw, the detective held his ground. “I’m just doing my job, ma’am.”

  “And don’t you dare call me ma’am,” Amanda raged. She raised her finger like she was going to poke him in the chest to make her point.

  Beatrice rolled her wheelchair forward, placing it as a barrier between her oldest sister and the detective. Things were complicated enough without having problems with the police.

  “This has been a very hard time for all of us,” she told the detective, giving Amanda a look that was meant to shut her up. “Letty’s death was a shock.”

  The detective nodded. “I understand, and I apologize for intruding, but I have a job to do. Honestly, this case was dumped in my lap because the detective that was supposed to be handling it…” He trailed off, realizing he’d probably said too much.

  “Letty was being investigated before her death?” Winnie asked sharply.

  The detective shrugged. “I don’t know. She should have been, but…things of minor importance got overlooked in the department for a little while.”

  “Letty’s reputation isn’t of minor importance,” Amanda told him, hands on hips.

  “I wasn’t suggesting it is.” He glanced around the shop, at the corners spilling with items, overflowing with what he no doubt considered to be junk. He extended his phone toward Beatrice, obviously having decided that she was the most cooperative of the sisters. “This is the property that’s been taken.”

  She took a quick glance at the phone, studying the photograph of a green purse with a barely visible scratch beside the zipper.

  “Have you seen it?” Detective Keller asked.

  Beatrice shook her head. “Then again, it’s kind of chaotic in here.”

  “It’s not here,” Amanda said emphat
ically.

  The detective raised his brows but didn’t comment.

  Winnie, making her own attempt to smooth things over, walked over to peer at the photo. “We’re not really familiar with the stock that’s here.”

  “I am,” Greta offered. She stepped closer and bent to look at the photo. “I haven’t seen that.”

  The detective pulled out a business card and handed it to Winnie. “Well, if you do happen to find it,” he began.

  “It’s a knock-off,” Beatrice said.

  The detective looked at her sharply. “Excuse me?”

  “It’s a knock-off,” Beatrice said. “A fake.”

  “I was told it’s quite valuable,” the detective said slowly. He flipped through notes on his phone. “It’s a Maggie Tucci. Or maybe it’s a Tucci Maggie.”

  Beatrice shook her head. “I know the Maggie satchels from Tucci, and that’s not one of them. That’s a Prissy purse from Moochie.”

  “Could you repeat that last part,” the detective repeated. “The priss part.”

  “It’s a Prissy purse, made by Moochie. They manufacture knock-offs of Tucci.”

  The detective considered the information carefully. “Well, pocketbooks aren’t really my area of expertise. I’ll have to have somebody else look into this. Either way, it’s still considered to be stolen property, so if you find it, please let me know.”

  “We won’t,” Amanda told him. “Letty’s not a thief.” She sucked in a breath, and her eyes filled with tears. “Letty wasn’t a thief,” she said quietly. She turned away from everyone else to wipe away her tears.

  Bea shared a worried look with Winnie.

  “Again,” Detective Keller said quietly, “I’m sorry for your loss. And I’m sorry for intruding.” With that, he turned and walked out of the store.

  8

  “The nerve of that man,” Amanda complained the moment the door closed behind Detective Keller. She dashed away her remaining tears and stood with her hands on her hips.

  Bea was glad she’d stopped crying, but Amanda’s outrage made her a little nervous.

  “He was only doing his job,” Winnie said.

  “What kind of detective doesn’t know that the person he’s looking for is dead? Who could ever accuse Letty of anything?” Amanda expressed her frustration by waving her hands, accidentally knocking a hanger off the nearest rack.

  “Take it easy, Amanda,” Winnie warned. “Wrecking the shop isn’t going to fix anything.”

  “Maybe it’s my turn to take a walk.” Amanda stalked out the door, not bothering to look behind her.

  Winnie shrugged at Beatrice. “Is it me or does she seem more high-strung than usual?”

  “She just cares more than other people,” Bea said gently, repeating a description that Letty had often used for her oldest goddaughter.

  Greta offered a comforting smile. “I’m sure you’re all going through a lot. Letty talked about you all with such affection. I feel like I know you.”

  “And who are you?” Winnie asked.

  “I’m Greta.”

  “She works here part-time,” Bea elaborated.

  “Except for when my kids are out of school. I’m a single mom,” Greta explained, almost apologetically.

  “Do you know how to run this business?” Winnie asked.

  Greta shrugged. “I’m just part-time, but I have a general idea of how things work.”

  Winnie nodded slowly. “So, what would Letty be doing now?”

  “Oh, that’s easy.” Greta beamed. “She’d be going through all of the material that came in that hasn’t been put out on the floor yet.”

  “And apparently she’d be smudging,” Beatrice said.

  Winnie looked at Beatrice like she was speaking a different language. “Excuse me?”

  “Burning sage,” Greta said with a laugh. “She believed it helped to remove the negative energy that surrounded the objects.”

  Winnie rolled her eyes. “We won’t be doing that.”

  “I think it’s a good idea,” Beatrice said.

  The sisters glared at each other across the shop.

  Before they could settle the issue, a customer walked in, making the bell over the door jangle.

  “Are you open?” the older woman asked. “Angus isn’t out.”

  “We are,” Winnie said. She glanced at Greta and jerked her head in the customer’s direction.

  Thankfully, the part-time employee picked up on the hint. “How can I help you?” Greta asked, moving toward the customer.

  Winnie walked over to where Bea was sorting through the scarves. “I’m going to try to figure out the books,” she said.

  Beatrice nodded, not wanting to get into any more of a discussion with her.

  “I’m looking for something for a special occasion,” Beatrice heard the customer tell Greta. “My daughter’s getting married.”

  “How exciting,” Greta replied.

  “Not really,” the customer sighed. “It’s her third. That’s why I’m not buying a new dress.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Beatrice watched as the younger woman led the customer to a rack of formal dresses.

  Winnie walked into the back, and Beatrice heard her clomp up the stairs. She let out a sigh of relief. Being around her sisters was proving to be even more stressful than she remembered.

  “What kind of criminal enterprise have you dragged me into?” the sheep demanded to know from her pocket.

  Bea glanced around to make sure no one could see her before she pulled him out and whispered, “Letty was not a thief.”

  “Sorry, but you, Miss Sticky Fingers, are not the most reliable character witness,” the toy retorted.

  Jamming the toy back into her pocket, Bea focused her attention on the basket of scarves.

  Within moments, she found one that featured chipmunks stabbing each other with pitchforks. She balled it up and stuffed it into her pocket, deeming it inappropriate to be sold at One Woman’s Junk.

  Most of the scarves weren’t worth much of anything, but Beatrice kept pawing through them. She sorted them by color, and by the time she was done hanging them on a pasta drying rack she’d snagged from the housewares section, they made a pretty rainbow flag. She smiled with satisfaction at her handiwork.

  While Greta helped the customer, Beatrice rolled over to pick up the shirt that Amanda had knocked off the hanger.

  It was some kind of sports jersey, synthetic microfiber, with the name Tanner on the back, along with the number fifteen.

  She bent over awkwardly and just managed to pick it and the hanger up off the floor. But before she could put it back on the hanger, the room began to spin.

  This time, it wasn’t like it had been in the coffee shop. This time, she heard laughter, she smelled hot dogs grilling. She could feel the positive energy.

  Closing her eyes, she imagined herself to be in the backyard of someone’s home. Happy little girls were having a cartwheeling contest not far away. Older relatives were sitting around the pool under the shadow of patio umbrellas. Two teenage boys, their backs to her, were cooking the hotdogs on a grill. Beatrice could hear the sizzle as they cooked. She could hear the murmur of conversation, the squeals of the little girls. The whole thing made her smile.

  “Beatrice!”

  Startled, she blinked again and dropped the shirt on her lap.

  Winnie was standing over her, giving her a hard look. “Did you hear what I said?”

  Beatrice shook her head. “Sorry.”

  “I should have known you weren’t even listening to me,” Winnie complained.

  “Did you want something?” Beatrice snapped, the sudden throbbing at the base of her skull making her cranky. Regretting the sharp words, she grabbed the agate ring, using it to try to center herself. Letty wouldn’t have approved of all of the sniping her goddaughters were doing.

  “I asked if you were going to stay and help Amanda run the store,” Winnie repeated.

  “Today?”

&nbs
p; “For the foreseeable future.”

  Beatrice hesitated as she considered the idea of being locked into one place for an extended period. She was accustomed to moving from job to job, following the fun times wherever they led. But she had been considering making a change to her lifestyle. Conflicted, she found herself uncharacteristically tongue-tied.

  Winnie nodded, taking her silence to mean ‘no’.

  “That’s what I thought. I’m going to go see what I can do about finding a lawyer.” With that, she walked out of the shop.

  Beatrice watched her go, a niggle of guilt squirming in her gut. After all, it seemed like Amanda needed a change in her life. Maybe she needed Beatrice, too.

  9

  Amanda had just finished helping the third customer of the day when she noticed the man in the seersucker suit had appeared in the shop. She hadn’t seen him enter or heard the bell over the door jangle. But there he was, standing in the back corner, watching her.

  She smiled at him. He tilted his head but that was his only return expression.

  Beatrice was in the back corner of the shop trying to sort a rack of children’s clothing.

  “Do you need a hand?” Amanda asked her sister.

  Beatrice shook her head. “I think I can handle it.”

  Amanda nodded her understanding. It was strange for her to watch her youngest sister work. For as long as Amanda could remember, Beatrice had always been the one to skate by—getting out of chores, never following through—but here she was, straightening the shop like she was invested in it.

  Maybe staying here, running the store with Beatrice’s help, wasn’t such a crazy idea after all, despite what Winnie had suggested. It wasn’t like she had much to go back to in New York, and it might be a good chance to really get to know her youngest sister.

  Since there were no other customers in the store, and Beatrice was so busy with the kids’ clothes, Amanda decided it was her responsibility to help the man in the seersucker suit.

  She marched toward him. “Can I help you with something?”

  “I already told you,” Beatrice said with a hint of irritation, “I’ve got this.”