The Beautiful Things Shoppe

by Philip William Stover

  I feel the cool water tighten my skin. I take a towel from the stack and pat my face dry, stalling as much as I can. I open the door and head to the cashier to meet Prescott.

  We wind up in different lines, him ahead of me, and he leaves to move the van to the delivery area and load up the larger items. I’m able to carry my purchase out the door in a small box. One thing I’ll say is that when you drop enough money on a small object they really don’t skimp on the bubble wrap.

  “All loaded up?” I ask jumping into the driver’s seat, still not sure what to say. It started snowing while we were in the auction. It’s not enough to make the roads too dangerous but there is a fresh, lovely blanket of white over the fields surrounding the auction house.

  “Yes,” Prescott says buckling his seat belt. I begin the drive back home.

  We are barely out of the parking lot when he says, “I don’t totally understand what happened but I want to thank you. Sincerely. That was very nice of you and I would like to find a way to buy it from you for what you paid, plus interest, of course. It will take me a little while but I know you don’t really want that mug.”

  “Are you kidding? I love pewter. Haven’t you heard? Pewter is the new black.”

  Prescott laughs and it makes me smile. “Let me at least help you. Maybe I could make a down payment with what I have and cover the balance...”

  “Sure, but let’s not talk about any of that right now. We’ll figure it out eventually.”

  “I know but I just have a lot of questions, like...”

  “The roads are getting slushy. I think I should focus on that. You know, for safety.” The roads are a bit slick and I’m grateful the van is so weighted down with our haul because it makes the tires grip the surface that much more. Rolling hills are quickly changing from earth browns to opaque white as snow begins to stick to the ground. Suddenly a thick squall appears, making visibility a bit of an issue.

  “Do you think we should take a break?” Prescott asks.

  “I’m sure it will pass,” I say with hesitation. I want to get us home as quickly as possible to avoid having to deal with the mess I’ve created, but I still want us to be in one piece.

  Prescott takes out his phone and examines the screen. “According to the weather radar it looks like this is moving in quickly. Is there any place for us to pull over? Hey, what’s that up ahead on the right? Should we stop there?”

  The most romantic spot in all of Bucks County appears before us. Oh, great. Exactly what I don’t need. In winter, The Langford Lavender Farm transforms into Peppermint Twist—a weekend sledding destination with a charming snack hut. My options are drive a rickety van over icy roads with little visibility or grab a hot chocolate with the sexy guy who has been so nice to me today that I think my insides have melted like a bag of candy left in the sun too long.

  “I think we should keep going,” I say gripping the wheel with determination. I’ve been redirecting my feelings for Prescott all day but I’m not sure I can keep this up much longer.

  “The sign says they serve hot chocolate and I think it’s safer to take a break,” Prescott says. “Let’s stop and I’ll buy you a treat to thank you for your bid. And you can explain more about Christopher Cassiday.”

  The snow is not letting up at all and the snack hut does have incredible hot chocolate so I say, “Fine, on one condition.”

  “Name it.”

  “No more talk about the tankard or that Cassiday guy.”

  “But you spent two thousand dollars...” he starts.

  “Ah, ah, ah. Nope. Not another word and that’s my final bid,” I say firmly.

  “Sure,” Prescott says. “My word of honor.”

  I start thinking about the menu at the snack hut and quickly add without thinking. “I’ll also need a Peppermint Kiss.” As soon as the word kiss comes out of my mouth I regret it. The last thing I want either of us thinking about is kissing. This is a safety break.

  “One Peppermint Kiss. If that’s what you want, you got it,” Prescott says and I do my best to ignore his flirty tone. I hope the weather is going to clear soon but when I look up at the sky all I see are delicate flakes of white precipitation telling my willpower to take a snow day.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Prescott

  We pull in to park and the farm is buzzing with people ready to take advantage of the recent snows. One side of the hill has rows of lavender bushes all wrapped up in burlap like butterflies waiting to break out of their chrysalises. The other side is full of families racing down the hill or making the climb back up to dash down again. Bursts of laughter and shouts of excitement punctuate the snow-filled air.

  A small building that looks like an ornately decorated gingerbread house that has come to life sits at the top of the hill. Majestic pine trees tower over it and their branches create a protected nook with benches and tables. Hanging fairy lights are just beginning to twinkle against the evening sky. I couldn’t ask for a more perfectly charming setting.

  Danny is wearing his sherpa-lined jacket and the flaps on his fake-fur-lined trapper hat flutter in the wind as he walks away from the van after parking. At the auction it was almost entertaining to watch him fight the urge to let happen whatever needs to happen between us happen. Of course, we were there for the bidding so I had to keep part of my attention on work. But with the snow falling and evening beginning to create a soft glow over everything, work is over. It’s time to play.

  We walk over to the window of the snack shack to order and a teenager with bright blue hair asks, “What can I get you?” They are wearing a red-and-white-striped leotard under a chunky red sweater vest with a They, Them, Theirs pin.

  “We’ll have two hot chocolates—” I look up at the hand-painted menu that hangs above the hut “—and two Peppermint Kisses,” I say and then turn to Danny. “Kisses?” I ask. “That is what you said you wanted? A kiss, right?”

  “Yes,” Danny says and I can see my relentless flirting is breaking him down. I never thought this could be so much fun.

  I pay and grab us a table as Danny waits for the order. The cold air is making his round cheeks ruddy and giving his whole face this glow that makes me want to run over there and kiss him so badly I can barely contain myself. I’ve never acted like this before in my life. I can’t even say I’ve ever really flirted let alone leaned into it with the weight of the spruces that tower over us. I can’t help it. I watch him chatting at the counter. He says something that makes the teenager laugh and they both smile. Danny makes every single person he meets feel important. It’s an uncanny talent with which I am becoming deeply enamored.

  He brings over a tray with our order and we sit next to each other watching the sledders as we sip our hot chocolate. “I guess you didn’t go sledding growing up in Texas,” I say. I want to know so much more about him, but I don’t want to rush things. This is a good place to linger.

  “No, but I used to love the Chilly Willy cartoons. He was this sassy little penguin who slid around on ice roller coasters and made everyone laugh. I have a Chilly Willy cookie jar but I keep it at home. I love it too much to sell.” Danny’s smile is radiant like the stars that are beginning to twinkle in the lavender sky.

  “You really love the things you collect, don’t you? I mean, more than love. They make you happy.” I think about when he’s straightening up his collection of matchbox cars. He goes over each one so carefully. I’m careful with my things too but it comes out of reverence more than joy.

  “Of course. I only collect the pieces that make me happy and I know a lot of them are throwaway things like fast food stuff and cartoon cereal characters but my dad worked a lot. My mom had other kids to take care of. A lot of my happy memories are focused around TV shows and junk food. That stuff made me feel normal. I guess when I see those things they bring me joy. Maybe they aren’t traditionally valuable but they make me happy,
so they are to me.”

  It’s time for me to put some steam on the situation. I look him in the eyes as intensely as I can and say softly, “That’s really a wonderful way to look at it. The things that make us happy can be beautiful. Very beautiful.” I wonder if I am pushing it too far. I stay focused on his eyes and Danny returns my gaze. His eyes are not just looking at mine, they’re connecting with mine. But it becomes too much for him and he breaks the spell.

  “Did you go sledding in New Jersey? You got snow there even though it was by the ocean, right?”

  “Sometimes,” I say releasing my intense gaze and allowing the evening to have peaks and valleys. “But it was really flat. There weren’t hills like this one. Look at that kid in the green.” I point to a boy flying down the hill with only a wooden sled between his belly and the slick surface.

  “It looks like a lot of fun,” Danny says.

  “I was just about to say that it looks terrifying,” I say laughing. We have such different ways of seeing the world. I’m learning to appreciate seeing with his eyes. The fact that they are always twinkling topaz and filled with a positive energy doesn’t hurt. He takes a sip of his hot chocolate and I take a sip of mine.

  “Are you ready for your Kiss?” I ask knowing exactly what I’m doing.

  He is startled for a second and then looks at the cookie I have in my hand. He doesn’t say anything. He tilts his head up and I feel like maybe something inside him is changing. He takes a sip of his hot chocolate and he gets a hot chocolate mustache over his regular scruff. Without thinking I go to wipe it away and brush my fingers just above his lips. It’s a bold move but I’m ready to give this a try.

  “Let’s do it,” he says and I sense a shift. I think the moment has finally arrived. I’m expecting him to close his eyes and put his lips on mine but instead he grabs the tray and brings it back to the person who served us and then heads back to the van.

  Too much? I should never have touched him on his face in such an intimate way. I scared him off again. Why did I do something so bold? It’s not like me. I trail behind him and start my apology, “Danny, I’m sorry...” But he has gotten too far ahead of me to hear. He’s already back at the van and ready, I assume, to go home. But instead of getting in the front of the van he opens the back door and starts rearranging what we have inside. It looks like he’s trying to pull something out.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  His thick arms reach into the van and struggle with the stuck object but it quickly gives to his strength. “I’m getting this,” he says and pulls out the long vintage toboggan that he purchased earlier at the rummage sale. “You wanna?”

  I have to admit I’m totally confused. I can’t predict anything this guy is about to do. I guess that’s part of what makes him so attractive to me. I’m a Swiss clock and he’s a slot machine.

  “We aren’t kids,” I say defaulting to my usual guarded attitude. Why do I always do that? Why do I always shut down any experience that might force me to engage? At least when I do it around Danny I’m aware of it.

  “So what? That doesn’t mean we can’t act like kids. Sometimes.”

  He’s got a point, but I can’t stop my mind from generating excuses. “I’m wearing a blazer!” I say unable to imagine tumbling down the hill on a thin piece of wood.

  “So what? I’m assuming you sleep in that blazer,” he says those dark gold and brown eyes in hypersparkle mode.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” I tease back. Why not?

  “I just might,” he says and that makes me smile. I knew something shifted and that confirms it. He’s ready.

  “Fine,” I say showing him that sometimes I can be crazy and impulsive like him. “Let’s try this out.”

  Danny

  “I call back seat,” I say and Prescott grabs the toboggan and starts running with it to over where the sledders are gathered. I watch him bouncing along toward the hill. I don’t know what I was thinking. He’s gorgeous and attentive and engaged with me on a level that penetrates through my entire being. Resisting him is completely futile. Even a Naboo starfighter’s deflection shield deteriorates at the deepest levels of hyperspace.

  We find a spot to launch where the flatness ends and the decline begins. Prescott takes a seat, grabbing the curved wooden front. “How do I steer this thing?”

  “I have no idea.”

  I look down and realize that this ride means I’m going to have to wrap my arms and legs around Prescott. I’ve gone this far. I might as well take the next step.

  He looks back at me. “Hop on.”

  I sit down and tentatively put my legs over his. Then he cups his hands under my ankles and even though the snow is making every extremity on my body feel a chill, being connected to Prescott in this way gives me a warmth deeper than any sweater could provide. I put my arms around his waist, as is custom in sledding from what I’ve seen. He turns his head back to me and I see a smile on his face. He’s holding my legs and I’m holding his waist. It feels so right and so perfect. I look down at the hill that looks much steeper than it did from the benches and have second thoughts about going down. I just want to stay holding him like this. I think about going in for my kiss but before I can he says, “Hold on.”

  “Prescott maybe we should think this through,” I say wondering if two grown men should be sledding down an icy hill.

  “Look who’s the cautious one now? Not a chance, Danny. On the count of three.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask. The winter sun has set. A pink-lavender glow from the west shares the sky with stars in the east. I don’t want this perfect moment to end.

  “One, two...” And before getting to three he lets go of my ankles and uses his hands to push us off the lip of the hill so the toboggan tips down and the weight of our bodies forces us speeding toward the bottom. I hold on to Prescott by squeezing my arms more tightly around his waist. He moves his hands to my arms and I feel a sudden rush that is as intense as the wind, ice and snow that swoosh past us. The hill is a tangled racecourse of kids and families but at this moment it feels like we are the only two people in the world.

  “Watch out!” I scream when I see we’re heading toward a massive pine tree just up ahead on the left.

  “I can’t steer,” Prescott yells trying to twist the lip of the toboggan like it’s the wheel of a ship.

  “Lean right,” I yell and then grab him even tighter and push both of us to the right. But he is lighter than I expect and I am heavier than I think so I pull us both so hard that we tumble off together but the toboggan continues down the hill passengerless.

  We don’t let go of each other. We roll toward the side of the hill away from everyone and watch the toboggan run smack into the tree. We both laugh so hard that we lean back and lie on the snow. I’m still holding Prescott and he turns so that we are facing each other. His warm breath makes a small cloud in front of mine. His cheeks are red from the cold and even though his slightly chapped but extremely beautiful lips are still closed his eyes continue to laugh. There is a calm silence between us. He smiles and puts his hand on my cheek so softly that for a second I think the snow has started falling again.

  I know this might be a mistake. I know he might break my heart and I might not be ready for it. I know this is complicated. But in the moment it feels simple, hopeful and right.

  Faster than our sled careened down the hill I move my lips to his. I can’t think in the moment or I know I will stop myself. Once I meet the deep warmth and delicious wetness of his lips all thinking stops. It’s just his lips, my lips and our bodies pressed against each other on the cold snow, which I imagine is a puddle underneath us considering how hot the kiss is. Last time we only just began letting our tongues journey wherever they wanted. This time there is no passport control. We both surrender in the same moment and take each other in through our mouths. I turn my head and he turns his and
we move without hesitation from kissing to making out. Luckily we have rolled far enough away from the hill that we are in a secluded-enough spot to enjoy the make out session. My hands move from his waist to just inside his jacket. There are still too many layers of clothes between my fingers and his chest but for the moment it will have to do.

  “Are you okay with this?” Prescott asks me without pausing. The words come out sort of distorted since he breathes them into my open mouth and tongue but I understand what he’s saying.

  “Yes, yes,” I say, assuming the panting is showing him how turned on I am right now. “I’m sure this time. I am.” I wonder if he’s thinking I might run away again, but this time I’m staying right where I am. “I’m sorry about the other night. Very sorry. I wasn’t ready. I was...”

  “Shh,” Prescott says putting his finger to my lips. “I understand.” He removes his finger and replaces it with his lips and our smooches grow hotter and deeper.

  I love feeling connected to him like this, lying next to him and feeling the snow fall and melt on us as we kiss. He nuzzles his nose against my neck and then looks up at me revealing a big smile with a small secret lurking beneath it.

  “What?” I ask.

  “You smell good, Danielek. I smell mint on you, a lot of mint right now.”

  Mint? I’m not sure what he’s talking about. I’m assuming it’s the peppermint cookie when...

  Boom!

  For a second I’m seeing stars. Not from the passion but from the sled that has just careened into us.

  “Dad, I told you we were gonna crash. That was amazing. Let’s do it again,” Jules, Tack’s kid, says as they grab their sled ready for another run. Tack and Vince get up from the ground and brush snow off their pants.

  “Well, look who we ran into. Literally,” Tack says with his usual devilish grin.