“Fun is fun.” I waved at Claire as I pushed my way out of the throng. Of course, this time, since I was leaving, people were more than willing to let me pass. Never stand in between a girl and her sale.
As I hurried to unlock the door and let a few waiting regulars into the shop, I wondered how Claire knew Sherry. More importantly, I wanted to know why she wasn’t a fan. Aunt Jackie might call my interest gossip, but I called it intelligence gathering. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. If I had any enemies in South Cove, besides Mayor Baylor and his wife, Tina, it was Sherry.
After the crowd thinned from my Saturday morning regulars, I had a few minutes of quiet, which I took advantage of by making a mocha and curling up with a mystery I’d stuck in my purse that morning. I could only take so much nonfiction reading, especially when I was reading the self-help diatribe of the Tiger Lady. I’d just reached the part in the mystery where they’d found the body when the bell over the door rang.
“Figured I’d find you goofing off. You know the monthly reports need reviewing. Or you could work on the supply order.” Aunt Jackie picked up several cups off the far table. “Or even just clean up the mess from the morning rush.”
“I was getting to that.” I held up the book. “And I am working. It’s called research.”
She threw the cups in the trash and poured herself a black coffee into one of the travel mugs. “Whatever you need to tell yourself. I’m heading upstairs to relax before my shift.”
“Hey, what was on sale?” I put the book down and went to the counter. “Or should I say, who was on sale?”
“Some low-level actress I’d never even heard of. And her clothes were dreadful. Tacky colors, skintight, not a quality piece in the lot.” She shook her head. “Total shame what some people will spend money on.”
“Sorry it was a bust for you.” I cleaned a spot on the countertop with the bar towel I kept on my shoulder. “Did Sherry sell anything?”
“People are idiots. She sold out the lot and they were clamoring for more. Claire and I left about the same time. At least that girl has some fashion sense.” Aunt Jackie stepped toward the door that led to the back office and a stairway to her apartment. “Oh, I’m supposed to tell you that Claire can’t make coffee today. She’ll come by next week. Something about her husband.”
“Oh.” I felt a tad bit disappointed, even though I’d just met the woman. Sometimes you can just tell about people. Claire seemed like someone I might like. And not just because she was another member of the I Hate Sherry Club. Or at least I thought that wasn’t the only reason. “I’ll see you later.”
As I stepped back to the couch and my book, my aunt called out, “You’d better have those books closed out by Tuesday morning. I’m taking everything to the accountant then.”
“I hear you.” I didn’t even turn around. I could feel Aunt Jackie’s eyes boring into my back. A few more chapters wouldn’t hurt. Besides, until Greg got Kent’s situation all tied up, who knew when I’d see him again. Definitely not this weekend, so I’d have lots of time to finish up the accounting chores.
By the time Sasha and Toby showed up at eleven, the story was finished and I’d grudgingly started reviewing the reports. The store had been slow for a Saturday. A couple of moms had come in for a coffee date, their chatter about their kids and local gossip filling the shop. I loved the sound of customers talking, not that I’d eavesdrop, but the sound of happy conversation made me smile.
Walking out the door, a brand-new novel in one hand and a bottle of water in the other, I took a deep breath, enjoying the clean salt air breeze. If Greg wasn’t sitting on the porch waiting for me when I returned home, I planned to take a blanket and a thermos of iced tea down to the beach. Emma could run in the waves chasing seagulls and I could lose myself in the second book of the new mystery series I’d found this week. One of the members of Aunt Jackie’s mystery group had ordered the whole series last week, so I’d ordered a second copy for my research. Referrals from that group were gold. They knew how to pick a story.
As I passed by Antiques by Thomas, a child’s school desk in the window display caught my eye. Polished walnut and about three feet high, the desk had to have been in one of the old schoolhouses. When Josh Thomas pulled open the wooden door, the top bell clanging, he stopped short.
“Can I help you with something, Miss Gardner?” Josh’s words were friendly, but the tone he delivered them with could freeze butter.
I decided to ignore his bad humor. I pointed to the desk. “Where did you get that?”
He labored closer to the window and peered into the crowded display. “Which that are you referring to? There are several items on display.”