Treasured Past (7 page)

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Authors: Linda Hill

BOOK: Treasured Past
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“I am
not
butch.” Beth knew all my buttons, and now she was roaring.

“You are. You may not
look
butch, but everything else about you is.”

“I don’t believe in that butch-femme thing,” I insisted.

“I know. I don’t either. But I sure do like to get you going.”

I opened my mouth to give her a not-so-subtle piece of my mind, but she cut me off.

“Is this the place?”

I glanced out the window and felt my stomach flutter. “Yep. We’re here.” I was nervous again.

“Did she tell you where to park?” Every metered parking space was taken.

“She said to pull around back. There’s a loading dock or something back there.”

Beth navigated her truck down a back alley, and we were surprised to see an oversize doorway at the back of the building. A rough wooden sign hanging above the door proclaimed TREASURED PAST.

“Easy enough,” Beth declared. Then she reversed the truck and backed it up until we were just a few feet from the door.

The number of shoppers that were milling about the store amazed me. Annie greeted us warmly.

“You made it,” she smiled.

“Sorry we’re late,” Beth told her. We were supposed to be there before the store opened at noon.

“No problem. I can’t really break away right now, but if you two want to unload the furniture in the back, we can move it inside as soon as there’s a break.” She was brushing a stray strand of hair from her brow.

“Sounds fair to me.” Beth was all smiles as we left the store together and unloaded the truck.

It took no time at all, and my dilemma began. It was unthinkable to just leave the furniture outside and make Annie bring everything in herself. But the number of people in the store made it clear to me that it would be a long wait before Annie could take a break.

Beth wasted no time in solving the problem. She waited until Annie had wrapped up a customer’s purchase and thanked them before approaching the counter.

“Annie, I hate to do this. But I really need to get to my son’s baseball game.”

“I didn’t know you have a son. What’s his name?” Annie’s smile was broad.

“Billy,” Beth smiled. “Unfortunately, I don’t get to spend a lot of time with him, so it’s important that I be there.”

Annie glanced my way. “Don’t worry about it. You two go ahead and take off.”

“Oh no,” Beth waved her off. “We wouldn’t dream of asking you to drag all that stuff in by yourself. Kate can hang around
until the end of the day if you wouldn’t mind giving her a ride home.”

I could feel my face reddening, and I bit my lip. I was sure that Annie would feel like she had been saddled with me. But I was wrong.

“What a wonderful idea.” Now she turned her attention to me. “Can I put you to work while you’re here?” She was grinning.

“You can certainly try,” I told her. “But I’m not promising that I’ll be much help.”

She let her eyes wander boldly up and then down my body before nodding firmly. “You look trainable enough.”

I pretended that I wasn’t embarrassed, but I didn’t miss Beth’s smirk. Shrugging my shoulders, I refused to meet Beth’s eyes. “Then I’m all yours,” I told her, knowing that Beth’s smirk was turning into a huge grin.

Once Beth had left, I asked Annie whether or not she had anyone to help her in the store. “It seems awfully busy in here for just one person.”

“I’ve had help on and off in the past. But I can’t afford to pay much, and it’s hard to
fmd
someone that you can trust.” Her tone was matter-of-fact. She paused to answer a question from a young woman interested in Fiesta ware.

“I’m afraid I’m not going to be much use to you,” I told her. “I don’t know anything about this stuff.”

“That’s okay,” she said easily. “It would be a big help if you just stay back here behind the counter and greet people for me.”

“I think I can manage that. But can’t you give me something else just a little more challenging to do?” I couldn’t stand feeling useless.

“Sure. Can you work a cash register?”

I didn’t want to admit that I never had, so I nodded. It looked simple enough to me.

“Good. Let me show you how we write things up.” Annie was all business now, and I focused hard while she showed me how she wrote sales receipts. Every item in the store had a white tag that included an item number, a description of the item, and a price. All the information was written on a two-copy sales receipt. The white copy went to the customer, and the yellow copy was placed in what amounted to a little shoebox under the counter. Each price was entered into the cash register, which calculated the sales tax and the total sale.

The procedure was simple enough, even for a gal like me who had never lived through the rite of passage that most kids do at one time or another. I’d never worn a McDonald’s uniform for a single day of my life. Although I did remember a time when, as a preteen, I’d envied the lime-green polyester uniform worn by the girls behind the counter. I remembered the wide round ring that was the zipper pull, and the matching lime-green hat. I’d thought that the outfit was absolutely stunning. It wasn’t until years later, when my mother reminded me of how desperately I wanted to wear that uniform, that I laughed until I nearly cried. The thought of hamburger and French-fry grease permeating the polyester outfit made me cringe when I remembered the uniform that I’d wanted so badly.

I was smiling at the memory and only nodded when Annie made some kind of statement before she turned and left me alone behind the counter. I was on my own.

The first two hours were rather uneventful. I managed to muster up a smile whenever a new customer opened the door. I had the checkout procedure mastered after only a couple of people brought their purchases to the counter. After a while, I found myself eagerly fielding questions, which of course I had no idea how to answer. But it gave me legitimate reasons to approach Annie to relay the question of the moment. After several hours, I found that I’d actually been enjoying myself, and was surprised and just a bit disappointed when it was almost time to close the shop.

At about a quarter of five, a gentleman came through the door carrying a large paper sack and approached the counter. He looked to be just a bit older than myself, with premature gray streaks beginning to emerge at his temples. His smile was friendly but hesitant.

“Hi. I don’t think I’ve seen you here before. Did Annie break down and hire someone to help her out?” He placed the paper bag on the counter.

I smiled a bit warily. “I’m actually just helping her out today.”

“Is she here?” he asked brightly.

“She’s back there somewhere.” I pointed to the opposite end of the store. “Would you like me to find her for you?”

He considered the question momentarily. “I think that would be best.” He patted the bag that he’d placed on the counter. “I made a purchase awhile back that I need to talk to her about.”

I glanced at the paper bag curiously and nodded my head. “Okay. I’ll go track her down.”

I glanced back at the man only once to make sure he was behaving himself before I found Annie in the farthest aisle, rearranging a display of crockery. She smiled as I approached.

“There’s a guy up front that wants to talk to you. He says he bought something awhile back that he needs to discuss with you.”

She frowned. “I hope he doesn’t want a refund.” She sighed and wasted no time in walking to the front of the store. I was close behind.

“Jim. How are you?” She recognized him from behind, and he turned and smiled. I thought he looked nervous.

“I’m fine, Annie. And you?”

“Fine. Just fine.” She stepped behind the counter and faced him, the smile warming her face. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, I’m a bit embarrassed about this.” He dropped his eyes and began to fidget with the paper bag. “I bought this
Eoff
and
Shepard
set a couple of months ago.” He opened the bag and pulled out what looked like a tea and coffee set. He placed all four pieces on the counter. “At least
I thought
it was an
Eoff
and
Shepard
.”

Annie’s brow wrinkled as she shook her head. “Jim, I don’t think I’ve ever seen this before. I don’t remember ever having it in the shop.”

“I know.” He almost interrupted her. “I didn’t actually see it here in the store,” he stammered. He began to fidget, and my curiosity was piqued.

“Your husband sold it to me.”

“My –”

“It’s a long story.”

For a moment I couldn’t hear anything above the rushing sound in my ears. Annie was married. I thought my heart would fall right into my stomach.

“So when I saw him I mentioned that I was interesting in finding a particular tea and coffee set by
Eoff
and
Shepard
,” he was saying. “About two weeks later he called and said he’d managed to run across a set. He even delivered it to my office.” He paused long enough to see the frown on Annie’s face. “But the problem is, it’s not an original. It’s a replica. I went to have it appraised for my insurance policy, and I was told that I’d been conned.”

Annie looked dumbfounded. I could almost see the wheels turning as she considered his words.

“But, Jim, that transaction has nothing to do with this store. That’s between you and —”

“No, unfortunately that’s not true.” He fumbled as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a brown leather wallet. “I have the receipt.” He unfolded a piece of paper and placed it on the counter in front of Annie. It was undoubtedly one of her receipts, the white copy to be exact.

“You paid six thousand dollars for
this?”
Her voice was incredulous.

“Yes,” he nodded. “And it appraised at fifty dollars. I think you can appreciate my concern.”

She raised tired eyes to his before dropping them back down to the sales receipt, studying it intently. As if suddenly remembering my presence, her gaze lifted to meet my intense stare, catching me off guard. I couldn’t read the thoughts or emotions that rifled her features. She was clearly disturbed, and for a moment I forgot about the fact that I was crestfallen. I excused myself, removing myself from their presence as gracefully as possible.

So much for Beth’s matchmaking,
my mind was speaking overtime to me. Even my own instincts had been incorrect. I had thought that Annie might actually be interested in me. So much for intuition.

I pretended to be engrossed in a display of butter dishes while my ears strained to hear the conversation between Annie and Jim. It would probably have been classified as eavesdropping if I could have deciphered a word of what they were saying. But I could only hear mumbling.

I picked up a dish and turned it over in my hand, pretending that I wasn’t watching as Annie pulled a large, oversize checkbook from underneath the counter and began scribbling a check. Then she was ripping it from the book, her face and voice full of apology as she handed it over to Jim. Her face was the highest shade of red that I had ever seen, and I wasn’t sure if it was out of embarrassment or anger.

I didn’t approach her immediately. Instead, I busied myself until the last customer had left the store and Annie locked the door behind him. She looked weary as she flipped the sign in the window so that CLOSED appeared to anyone peeking in.

I knew that she wished I wasn’t there, and I felt like an intruder invading her personal business. I decided that the best thing to do was pretend that I hadn’t witnessed what was probably a very embarrassing moment for her.

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