One Woman's Junk

by J. B. Lynn

  “Well, it wasn’t my plan,” Beatrice told her sharply. “Circumstances beyond my control.”

  Winnie nodded. “Where’s Amanda?”

  Beatrice wrinkled her forehead. “I’m worried about her.”

  Winnie looked at her sharply, then wrinkled her forehead when Bea didn’t say anything.

  “She keeps looking for something,” Beatrice explained.

  “Well, everything’s unfamiliar here,” Winnie automatically excused.

  “It’s not something in the shop,” Beatrice said. “She spent most of yesterday staring out the window.”

  “Maybe she’s homesick,” Winnie suggested.

  “But she’s the one who wants to stay here and run the shop,” Beatrice reminded her.

  Winnie shrugged. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Maybe you should talk to her,” Beatrice suggested. “You two are closer than she and I.”

  Winnie sighed. “The curse of the middle child.”

  “There’s a ten-year age difference between us,” Beatrice reminded her. “It’s not like she and I ever really connected. By the time I was out of grammar school, she was out of the house.”

  Winnie nodded. “I know. But I was still just starting high school when she moved out of the house, so it’s not like we’re that close, either.”

  For a moment, the Concordia sisters stared at each other, neither one of them broaching the subject that they weren’t close, either. Beatrice swallowed hard as a wave of regret welled up within her. The age differences had been barriers when they were kids, but none of them had put much effort into connecting with one another as adults.

  “Letty had some enemies,” Beatrice said to break the uncomfortable silence.

  “Letty? Enemies?” Winnie scoffed. “I don’t believe it.”

  Beatrice shrugged. “That’s what I heard, anyway. Maybe we didn’t know her as well as we thought we did. I mean, there’s the stolen purse—”

  “Letty would not have stolen a purse,” Winnie reprimanded firmly.

  Beatrice thought of the stolen Moochie that was mere yards away, hidden in the denim bag. She didn’t argue with her sister, though. “I’m just saying that maybe she was more complicated than we realized.”

  “Are you still on your paranoid theory that something happened to her?” Winnie asked with annoyance.

  Beatrice shrugged. “Is it really that farfetched?”

  Winnie nodded. “It really is.”

  Feeling that they were caught in an emotional impasse, Beatrice decided to put some distance between them before things got out of hand. “You and Amanda both got to go for walks,” she said. “Now it’s my turn.”

  She rolled herself over to where the denim bag was, plopped it on her lap, and rolled toward the door.

  “Where are you going to go?”

  “Out.”

  “To see the carpenter who has the hots for you?” Winnie asked in a sing-song teasing way.

  Beatrice didn’t bother to answer her. She just sat staring at the door, waiting for Winnie to open it for her. Winnie did so grudgingly. “Be careful.”

  Beatrice nodded and pushed herself outside. She rolled past all the shops and down the ramp. Then she stopped and felt the sun on her face.

  “I don’t think you’re paranoid,” Pim offered from her pocket.

  She didn’t answer him. She would have looked like she was talking to herself.

  Instead, she replayed that momentary flash she’d had when she made contact with Rena. She wondered who the angry woman was and was sorry she had been unable to make out what she had been screaming.

  She considered going to PerC Up, but she really wasn’t in the mood for Piper’s company.

  Ash Costin strolled out of his shop and stretched his arms over his head, his t-shirt rising and revealing a flash of his abs.

  Glancing over, he noticed her and flashed a wide grin. “Good morning.”

  “Morning,” she said with a half-smile.

  “What are you doing out here?” he asked.

  “I needed a change of scenery,” she replied.

  He nodded his understanding. “Me too. Care to take a walk together?”

  She waved at herself stuck in the wheelchair.

  He chuckled. “Okay, I’ll walk, you ride.”

  Without asking her permission, he came around behind the wheelchair and began to push it along.

  “Do you know Rena?” Bea asked, taking in a whiff of sawdust.

  “Sure. Letty let her sleep in her shop,” Ash revealed.

  Bea hesitated, taking in the revelation, then nodded.

  “Everybody in this strip knows Rena,” Ash said. “Everybody pretty much helps everyone out around here. Like Fritz, the accountant, helps me with my books. Letty helped decorate Piper’s place at cost. My point is, we all help each other out. Everybody looks out for Rena, well, almost everybody.”

  “Who doesn’t?” she asked curiously.

  “Matt, the baker,” Ash said with more than a hint of dislike in his voice. “I mean, Piper gives her some food, but it wouldn’t kill Matt to give whatever he can’t sell to her,” Ash said. “He’s the one with the big TV deal and he won’t even give her a stale slice of bread. It’s something that Letty argued about with him quite often.”

  “So she did have some enemies,” Beatrice murmured underneath her breath, wondering if any of them had contributed to Letty’s death.

  “Rena’s a good kid. A good worker. In fact, she’s helping me with an install.”

  “An install?”

  “Want to see it? It’s my own invention. It’s kind of cool.”

  Hearing the excitement in his voice, Beatrice found that she really did want to see it. “Sure.”

  He spun her wheelchair around, rocking it back on its wheels so it felt like she was doing a wheelie, and she chuckled with delight at the sheer fun of the moment.

  “It’s in my store,” he said, hurriedly pushing her back from the way they’d come. “I was hired to make it for a big art show that’s going to be on the roof of one of the hotels downtown.”

  “On the roof?”

  “Yeah, something about having a view of the city and a view of the art,” he said. “It’s a big opportunity for me, and I’m pretty excited about it.”

  “That’s great.”

  “Actually, I have Letty to thank for it.”

  Reaching his store, he managed to open the door and wheel her inside in one smooth movement.

  “How?” she asked, breathing in the scent of sawdust and varnish.

  “Nottingham, the guy who runs the charity that the art show is benefitting, wandered into her shop looking for something or other he collects,” Ash revealed. “They got into a conversation about how he had difficulty finding good framing stores around here and Letty suggested that maybe I could do a custom job for him. I mean, he’s kind of a jerk, but the exposure I’ll be getting…”

  “I thought you made furniture,” Bea said.

  “I do. I made the tables at PerC Up.”

  She smiled, finally understanding why she’d found the tables there to be so steadying.

  “But a guy named Ash needs to branch out…” He waited for her to groan at his bad tree pun.

  She obliged by dramatically wincing.

  He grinned.

  “I make furniture, cabinets, and now, custom picture frames. If it’s wood you need, I’m your man.” He trailed off, realizing what he’d just said.

  She raised her eyebrows and giggled.

  Shaking his head, he left her sitting in the middle of the shop as he hurried toward the back. “Wait here a sec. I want you to get the full effect.”

  When he disappeared, she looked around, taking in the neatly arranged tools and all of the craftsman details of his nearest projects. Everything seemed to gleam because of the natural light shining in. She tilted her head back and took in the unusual hexagon-shaped skylight overhead.

  Then she noticed a drop cloth ta
cked up across an expanse of the ceiling. She wondered if Ash had a leak in his upstairs bathroom, or maybe the kitchenette.

  “Okay, now it’s ready.” Ash swept back into the room and smiled down at her. “You’ll be the first person to see my finished creation.”

  “Sounds like something Dr. Frankenstein would say,” she teased.

  He wheeled her to the very back of the shop and yanked away a giant tarp that was hanging on a rod suspended from the ceiling.

  “It’s kinetic,” he explained about the contraption of picture frames that were all connected on some sort of spindle.

  “It moves?”

  “Watch!” He leapt forward and gave the nearest picture frame a tiny shove. Sure enough, all of the picture frames began to spin and rise up and down. It was a magical effect.

  “I love it.” She clapped with delight. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  Ash nodded, self-satisfied.

  Instinctively, once the rectangles had once again stopped moving, she reached out to touch the nearest frame, wanting to feel the burnished wood.

  She wasn’t expecting what she got. All of a sudden, she saw Letty staring down at an oil painting of a pond. Her godmother’s brow was furrowed, and she was chewing the inside of her lip as she used to do when she was trying to solve a problem.

  “Are you okay?”

  Beatrice became aware of the question as Ash grabbed her hand.

  “You got very pale,” Ash said worriedly.

  “I’m fine,” Beatrice said. She tried not to notice the way his work-worn fingers scraped against her delicate skin. She tried not to focus on the reaction the rest of her body was having to that contact.

  What she had seen with Letty was too important. She had to figure out what it meant.

  “It’s cool, right?” Ash said excitedly, unaware of Bea’s internal struggle.

  Bea nodded, trying to recall the painting Letty had been examining. The subject matter had seemed familiar. She blinked, realizing that she had seen it before. Not the painting, but the scene. It was the pond at Red Bug Slough.

  “I just hope Nottingham is pleased with it,” Ash continued.

  “And has he seen it?” Beatrice asked.

  “Not yet,” Ash said. He rubbed the spot between his eyebrows. “He was supposed to come down a week ago, but he hasn’t shown up yet.”

  “Have you gotten paid yet?” Beatrice asked.

  Ash chuckled. “That is such a Letty question.”

  She shrugged. “She did influence me.”

  Ash nodded. “I took a fifty percent deposit before I started the work, so while I haven’t gotten paid for the full thing, at least my supplies have been paid for.”

  Bea nodded absentmindedly, still remembering the oil painting.

  “Are you okay?” Ash asked. “I mean, I know we don’t know each other well. But you seem to have a lot on your mind. A lot more than just grief.”

  “I have a lot of questions,” Beatrice said slowly.

  “And very few answers,” Pim piped up from her pocket.

  Of course, Ash couldn’t hear the sheep, so Beatrice didn’t respond.

  “Well, I have a question,” Ash said. “What happened to you?” He gestured toward her entire body as he asked.

  “I fell.”

  He raised an eyebrow, crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned back, waiting for more of an explanation.

  Beatrice wasn’t sure she was prepared to give it.

  27

  The Concordia sisters sat in One Woman’s Junk eating dinner together. Beatrice was in her wheelchair, Amanda perched on the stool behind the cash register, and Winnie was lolling on the velvet-covered chair.

  “You should tell them,” Pim said.

  Beatrice did her best to ignore him, focusing on chewing what passed for the poor excuse for pizza in Sarasota, Florida. She listened with interest to the conversation between Winnie and Amanda as to whether or not they were going to keep the little dog, who was currently curled up at Winnie’s feet.

  “He’s got to be somebody’s pet,” Winnie argued.

  “I’m not disagreeing with that, Winnie,” Amanda said. “All I’m saying is that it would be cruel to just drop him off at the pound.”

  “It wouldn’t be a pound,” Winnie said. “There’s a Humane Society here. You checked to see if he was chipped, and we’ve looked on all of the missing pet websites we could find. You’ve called all of the vets in the city, and no one is reporting a missing dog matching his description.”

  The dog let out a yip, making it clear he knew the conversation revolved around him and he thought he deserved a vote in the matter of what to do with him.

  “I think we should keep him,” Beatrice said.

  Both Amanda and Winnie gave her a disbelieving look.

  “Keep him?” Winnie asked. “Do you have any idea how much responsibility a pet is? And we all know you’ve never been responsible for anything in your entire life,” Winnie added.

  “Winnie,” Amanda interjected softly.

  “Maybe I’m turning over a new leaf,” Beatrice retorted, feeling her cheeks burn with embarrassment. Her sister wasn’t wrong. She had basically lived a life of freedom and hedonism, going from job to job, making no effort to carve out a career of any kind for herself, but maybe she was ready for a change. People could change.

  “Besides,” Winnie added, a mixture of shame and regret flitting across her features, “you’re in no shape to take care of a dog.”

  As though to prove her wrong, the dog took a flying leap and landed in Beatrice’s lap.

  She couldn’t pet him because she had a slice of pizza balanced in her good hand, but she smiled down at him. “Good dog.”

  Winnie did not look like she agreed. “You don’t even know where you’re staying.”

  “I’m staying here,” Beatrice declared.

  Winnie arched her eyebrows and pursed her lips, but kept silent.

  “Amanda and I can run the place,” Beatrice said with more confidence than she felt. “There’s some stuff in here that’s more valuable than Letty realized; we can turn a profit.”

  “In case you don’t remember, the landlord is trying to kick us out,” Winnie reminded her.

  “We can beat him,” Beatrice said.

  Amanda turned her attention to Winnie. “Is that true? Do you think we can beat him?”

  Winnie shrugged and took a bite of pizza.

  “You really need to tell them,” Pim insisted.

  Beatrice put down her pizza, wiped her greasy fingers on her shirt—a move that garnered her a disapproving grimace from Amanda—and took a deep breath. “There’s something else we need to talk about.”

  “Oh God,” Winnie groaned. “Please tell me you’re not pregnant.”

  Beatrice rolled her eyes. “No.”

  “Okay then,” Winnie said, nodding her approval. “It can’t be as bad as your doom and gloom tone is making it out to be.”

  Beatrice shrugged. “It might be.”

  Amanda frowned. “I really wish I’d gotten wine to have with this pizza. It definitely feels like a wine night.”

  “That would have been thinking ahead,” Winnie agreed.

  The two older Concordia sisters turned to Beatrice and waited expectantly.

  Beatrice took a deep breath. “I found the stolen purse,” she blurted out.

  Amanda blinked.

  Winnie slumped back in her seat. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I found the purse,” Beatrice explained. “I was looking through the shoes for sale and I found it.”

  Amanda shook her head. “Detective Keller searched thoroughly for it.”

  “I’m sure he did,” Beatrice said sheepishly, “but I took it on my date with Ash.”

  Amanda closed her eyes and lowered her head into her hands, as though this new development was more than she could bear.

  “You took the stolen purse on a date,” Winnie asked. “Why?”
/>   “Because I didn’t want anybody else to find it,” Beatrice said. “And it’s a good thing I did. Otherwise, Letty’s reputation would have been trashed.”

  “Where is it now?” Winnie demanded to know.

  “Over there.” Beatrice pointed to the denim bag. “It’s inside that.”

  Winnie heaved herself up off the velvet chair and across the room. She picked up the denim bag. Reaching inside, she pulled out the Moochie bag. “Oh my God.”

  Amanda just groaned.

  “It doesn’t make sense that Letty would have stolen it,” Beatrice assured her sisters. “There’s got to be an explanation.”

  “We’re harboring stolen goods,” Amanda moaned. “We’re going to jail. I think they have the death penalty in Florida.”

  “I’m not sure you can harbor inanimate objects,” Beatrice interjected. “I think that’s, like, for people, not stuff.”

  “They do have the death penalty here,” Winnie confirmed.

  Beatrice shot their middle sister a look meant to silence her, but she seemed intent on amping up Amanda’s hysteria.

  “And you transported stolen goods,” Amanda continued. “You’re going to the gas chamber!”

  Beatrice looked to Winnie for help, but none was coming.

  “Florida doesn’t use gas,” Winnie said unhelpfully.

  “Oh my God, a firing squad!” Amanda began to cry.

  “Electrocution,” Winnie corrected. “They use electrocution in Florida.”

  “How inhumane,” Amanda wailed.

  “Nobody’s going to jail.” Beatrice pounded on the arm of the wheelchair for emphasis. “No one’s ever been executed for stolen goods.”

  “How do you—” Winnie began.

  “Shut up!” Beatrice yelled at the top of her lungs. “Look what you’ve done to Amanda.”

  Amanda was slumped in her seat, silently sobbing.

  Winnie winced guiltily. She walked over and put an arm around Amanda’s shoulders. “I was just winding you up. You should know better than to take me seriously.”

  Amanda sniffled and wiped away her tears. “But this means Letty’s a thief.”

  “Not necessarily,” Beatrice hurriedly assured her. “Greta could have hid it here. Or Harmony, she seems to breeze in and out.”