The Beautiful Things Shoppe

by Philip William Stover

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Prescott

  The shop has had an entirely different vibe the past two weeks. It’s gone from a war zone to a love nest. We’re entirely professional, especially when customers are browsing, but when we’re alone and Danny sees me going through my spreadsheets he’ll come over to my desk and give me a gentle shoulder rub to help relieve the stress. One afternoon I turned the open sign to Closed and led him to the pantry and we made out until the mail carrier knocked on the door. It’s all so bold, but with Danny I’m not worried he’ll make me feel foolish or needy.

  As I walk back to the shop holding two steaming lattes from the Honeysuckle, I realize I’m not just feeling more comfortable in the shop but also in town and with the town. When I moved here from Philadelphia, I thought it was just going to a place to live. I wanted an apartment close enough to the shop to have a walkable commute and that was about the height of my expectation. I thought I’d make the business a success and look for an opportunity at one of the big auction houses back in Philadelphia or maybe New York. This wasn’t supposed to be a destination, it was just a pit stop. Being with Danny is amazing but it’s more than that. Meeting the people here and becoming part of the community effort to save the historic landmarks has made New Hope feel like more than a place to live. It’s beginning to feel like a home.

  Danny was having an involved conversation with some customers about some apparently very complicated Cabbage Patch doll so I took the opportunity to run down to the corner and grab us some refreshment. We have a coffee maker in the pantry for emergencies, but whenever we have a caffeine urge we try to run to the Honeysuckle to support the local community. Even an incidental purchase can help a small business and we are both aware of that.

  When I arrive back at the shop I see he is still talking with the couple he was with when I left, but instead of showing off his collection, he’s standing in front of one of the most expensive items in my collection: a Queen Anne letter opener with an enamel handle. How did they go from talking about a baby-face doll to one of the rarest forms of metallurgy?

  I stand outside and watch through the shop window as Danny talks to them. His hands move around with his fingers pointing out different parts of the antique. He smiles and then says something very quickly and I see the couple laugh and nod their heads. He’s so good with people. I’ve shared some deep knowledge about my collection but I don’t think I’ve ever made anyone laugh in the shop. For weeks I’ve been trying to identify what it is that Danny has and I think I’ve finally figured it out. He has charisma. People just like liking him. They can’t help liking him.

  I feel the same way now. I can’t help liking him, in fact, I think I might not be able to help falling in love with him.

  The thought of being in love with Danny Roman makes me very aware of the cold wind on my knuckles and the warm cups in my palms. There is a sharp contrast between the two sensations but together they become something that is more than the sum of its parts. I use my foot to open the door. Danny sees me and runs to help me.

  “Prescott, I’m glad you’re back. This couple is looking for a present for their uncle’s seventieth birthday. When they mentioned he still loves sending handwritten letters, I thought your letter opener might be a good match but I told them you were the expert. Could you tell them more about it?” he asks passing off the sale and grabbing the lattes from me.

  I walk over to the couple and introduce myself before giving a brief but salient history of how the opener was forged. They seem impressed.

  I look over the woman’s shoulder at Danny and he smiles at me and shrugs like it was a coincidence that he directed the woman to one of my pieces. If I wasn’t about to make a sale I would turn that sign to Closed and have him in the pantry so fast he wouldn’t know what’s going on. Instead I ring up the sale and wrap up the item.

  Once the couple has left the shop I log the sale and notice that I’ve made a sizeable profit. “I’ll be able to pay off the balance on the pewter very soon,” I say to him as he’s going over some receipts in his hot chocolate tin at his desk. I know he doesn’t like to talk about the debt. Growing up without a lot of money made conversations about financial arrangements difficult. Still, I want to make sure he understands I have every intention of paying him back.

  “I’m not worried,” he says. “I know where you live.” He lifts his head up and gives me that warm smile that makes me want to hold him in my arms and squeeze him like a soft teddy bear.

  When Serilda walks in with Vince to collect us for the city council meeting, Danny immediately walks over to give them a hug. I wish, for the hundredth time, I could be more like him and just embrace people—embrace life for that matter.

  “We got him,” Serilda says.

  “Got who?” I ask as we begin preparing the shop for the close of day.

  “The real estate developer who plans to tear down the buildings. It took some sleuthing but I was able to get a name attached to the project,” Vince says.

  “Turns out he’s a local investor from Philadelphia so I invited him to an upcoming city council meeting. He declined the offer. Humph! He has no idea who he’s dealing with. His name is Mr. Jefferson Worthington.”

  I steady myself on my desk. “What did you say his name was?”

  “Jefferson Worthington. He goes by the nickname...”

  I don’t let them finish the sentence. “Worth,” I say and the name in my throat feels like I just swallowed the letter opener I sold.

  Danny

  “Not that awful guy who was in here before we opened for Winter Festival?” I ask, closing the hot chocolate tin and putting it away.

  “How many Jefferson Worthingtons can there be in the greater Philadelphia area? I mean I’m hoping there is another one but it seems unlikely.” The stiffness Prescott showed when we first met is back.

  Worth. The guy who came on to Prescott so hard I thought he was going to spontaneously combust in front of me. Expensive camel hair coat, fancy cashmere sweater, deep tan from recent visit to a five-star resort. He was like an animal stalking his prey with Prescott. I remember the guy, and the thought of him being anywhere near Prescott after we have gotten so close makes me scratch the back of my knuckles nervously.

  “Who does he think he is, refusing to come to town and meet us face-to-face? I’m ready to give the city council a piece of my mind tonight and make them order him to attend a meeting so we can make this person aware of how much those buildings mean to this town. You two hurry up and close up shop. We don’t want to be late. I need you both.”

  When Serilda gives you an order there isn’t room for delay. I finish with my receipts and start putting the dust covers over the displays as Prescott closes the windows and turns off the lights. This week we started combining our efforts for shutting down, whereas before he did his side and I did mine. It’s nice to share it this way and work in tandem with him. I smile as I quickly finish my tasks but then remember that Worth is involved in this whole thing and my smile dims just a bit. We leave the shop and the sidewalk has iced over enough to make walking difficult. I’m worried about Serilda making it all the way to the municipal office in their heels but Arthur appears as soon as we are on the street.

  “I was hoping we could walk over together,” he says. I notice that Serilda’s eyes light up when Arthur arrives.

  “Always a lifesaver, Arthur,” Serilda says taking his arm and Prescott extends his for me.

  “If I slip I’ll just drag you down to the cement. You’re safer on your own,” I tell him. I weigh a lot more than he does. I’m sure a guy like Worth would be easy to keep vertical. The two of them probably weigh the same exact amount within a few ounces.

  “I don’t want to be safer on my own. I want to be in the grips of danger. With you!” Prescott puts his arm around me and suddenly I don’t want to be on my own at all.

  We walk
behind Arthur and Serilda and I get the courage to ask Prescott what I need to know. “How exactly do you know Worth?” I ask quietly.

  “We dated a while back,” he says matter-of-factly, as if he just said they met at the gas station or on jury duty.

  “You dated?” My shock comes through more clearly than I want. I can’t believe Prescott would ever be with someone as snobby and pretentious as Worth. Is that the kind of guy he usually goes for? I can’t imagine someone more my opposite than that guy—unless, of course, it’s Prescott.

  “It was a long time ago,” he says rubbing my arm.

  “How long?” I ask. I can feel my suspicion rise as my self-esteem plummets.

  “Just before I left Philadelphia.”

  “That’s actually not very long ago,” I say.

  “Maybe not, but it feels like a million years ago. It was nothing serious. I’m with you now. I’m exactly where I want to be.”

  I squeeze his arm tightly, satisfied with his answer, at least for now.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Prescott

  Our charming antique shop turns into protest central in the evenings. Serilda is still trying to persuade the city council to demand Worth attend the next meeting, but even if by some miracle he does we all know he might not listen to reason so we want to be prepared. At the end of the workday Danny and I move the display tables to the edges of the shop. I put away anything fragile and he lays out poster board, paints and markers. The first night also included various pots of glitter but when I started finding pieces of pink sparkle in the tiniest crevices of my finest porcelain we made a compromise. All glitter work now takes place in the alley behind the shop. Last night after everyone left Danny glitter bombed a poster out back and came back in with green and purple sparkles stuck to his scruff and the hair that peeks out from his chest. It made me laugh because he looked like a big sexy Christmas ornament. I started picking it off him and before I knew it we were kissing gently with the glow of the streetlamps illuminating the store.

  Tonight we might not have a chance for a make out session. The shop is full of people. I have a jar with extra markers and pencils and I’m walking around taking in all the wonderful work that is happening. There are families, couples and groups of friends all mingling and mixing, drawing on poster board or coloring in letters. Whenever anyone needs a supply I bring it over and chat for a few seconds about what they’re making. I’m not unaware that my ability and desire to make nonantique-related small talk has greatly expanded recently.

  Tack’s child, Jules, raises their hand and asks for a green magic marker. They are working on a poster that says Buildings are People TOO! I walk over with an assortment of colors. “Hi Jules. I’m Prescott. We met at the sledding hill.”

  Two women are with them. The one with short blond hair says, “So you’re the Prescott everyone is talking about. I’m Evie, Jules’s mom, and this is my partner, Ines.”

  “Nice to meet you both,” I say. I’m a little embarrassed by her comment but not in the way I would have been a few weeks ago when the very thought of people I don’t know talking about me would have made me run away. Right now I don’t mind it. I’m not sure if it’s the fact that I have finally found a community that feels like home or that being identified as a couple with Danny makes me melt a bit. I’m surprised by how good it makes me feel. I thought keeping to myself was protecting me but I’m beginning to see how much I’ve been missing out on. There might be more to the world than nineteenth-century antiques. The very idea!

  “What happened to all the glitter?” Jules asks.

  “Danny is doing special glitter sessions in the alley. No more glitter in the store, I’m afraid,” I say with a frown.

  “That sounds like a more than reasonable request. In fact, I think maybe we should consider that rule at home.” Evie turns to me, “Do you have any idea what glitter does to a vacuum?”

  “Can I go out to the alley with Danny?” Jules asks. Their mom agrees and Jules runs off with their poster in hand.

  “Jules really loves Danny,” Evie says with a bit of mischief in her voice. “You know, he would make a fantastic dad.”

  “Oh, absolutely,” her partner says putting her arm around Evie.

  “Yes, I’m sure he would,” I say smiling, acknowledging the massive hint they are sending. It seems like everyone in this town not only wants us to be together but start a family right away. Surprisingly, it doesn’t feel intrusive. It makes me feel like people are watching out for me, for us. And they’re right, of course. Danny would be a wonderful father, even though we’re nowhere near having that on the horizon. I never thought having a kid would be part of my future but now... Who knows?

  I walk around and chat with a few more people and then see Danny taking a break from his glitter duties and showing his latest creation off to Evan and Kevin. Danny introduced them to me the other day when they came into the shop. They own a farm down the road that makes unbelievable goat cheese and other organic agricultural products.

  Danny is smiling that carefree smile that shines like the mother-of-pearl inlay on the letter opener I sold last week.

  “I don’t get it,” Evan says.

  “Oh, don’t listen to him, Danny. I think it’s perfect,” Kevin says.

  Danny holds up a poster board with the phrase New Betta Hope! on it. “It’s like RuPaul says, ‘You betta work.’” Danny and Kevin both emphasize the phrase with a finger that wiggles in the air.

  “I get it,” I say immediately recognizing the reference. I may not be RuPaul’s biggest fan but I haven’t been living in an Edith Wharton novel my whole life. Danny looks at me with a combination of shock and joy. Then he spontaneously kisses me on the cheek. I’m sure I blush deeper than the reddest magic marker in my jar.

  “Do you see why I’m so into this guy? He’s always surprising me.”

  An impulse overcomes me and I kiss Danny back on the cheek right there in front of Evan and Kevin and everyone else in the shop. I grab Danny’s hand and hold it tightly, enjoying the moment without giving a single thought to the shade of my cheeks.

  Danny

  Serilda walks in with Arthur and catches Prescott kissing me. “I certainly hope the two of you can save all that kissy stuff for after we have saved these buildings.” Their content is scolding but the delivery is all honey. They smile at us and Arthur gives an approving nod. “I have some good news,” Serilda says.

  “Great. As you can see we have a small factory pumping out materials,” Prescott says. I’m so proud of the way we’ve worked together on this. I always thought relationships were a you-do-your-thing-and-I-do-mine experience. I’m beginning to see the joy that comes from working together on a project. Being with Prescott doesn’t feel like he is the star pitcher and I’m in the stands giving him batting signals or ordering him a stunning new uniform. It feels like being on the same team and that makes me think I’m not losing myself for once. It makes me appreciate being seen for who I am and not just for what I offer.

  “What’s the news?” I ask.

  “We got Jefferson Worthington to come here and meet with us at the next city council meeting.”

  “You got Worth to come here?” Prescott says releasing my hand from his. “I thought you said he kept refusing to meet?”

  “He did, but pressure from the council forced him to change his mind. He wasn’t happy about it,” Serilda says.

  I’m feeling an unpleasant ambiguity. I want to confront the person who plans to tear down our historic core but I do not in any way, shape or form want that person to be Worth. I look at Prescott and he is biting his lower lip—something I noticed he does when he is deep in thought. I want to know what he’s thinking.

  “I plan to let this Worth know that just because you have money doesn’t mean you can come into our community and pave over our historic landmarks. I hope he’ll see reason but
if he doesn’t we will take to the streets and block his way. We’re going to need every single poster you have here for the biggest protest this town has ever seen,” Serilda says. Everyone in the shop nods and murmurs in agreement. Jules runs over to Serilda and shows them their Buildings are People TOO! poster.

  “What about this one?” they ask. The poster is almost as big as they are. Serilda looks at it carefully.

  “Oh, yes,” Serilda says bending down a bit to address Jules. “We will need that one front and center right on Main Street. It’s wonderful.” Jules smiles at Serilda and Arthur.

  “I’d be delighted to treat all of you to a hot chocolate after-party at the Honeysuckle. Let’s help Prescott and Danny clean up and head over,” Arthur says. He’s always so sweet thinking about what people need and when they need it.

  “You all just head on out. Prescott and I can take care of all this,” I say.

  “Yes, you each deserve a hot chocolate and without the glitter, tidying this up is a breeze,” Prescott adds.

  Everyone grabs their coats and bags from the pantry area and we say our temporary goodbyes as they head out. Once we are alone we start gathering materials and throwing out trash. I look over at Prescott and I can tell he is still preoccupied. “Are you okay?” I ask gently.

  “Yeah, that was a great turnout and I think the community is really behind this effort. It’s just that...” he trails off and his voice has a slight quiver.

  “What?” I walk over to him and put my hand on his arm.

  “I’ve seen how these things play out with people like Worth. I’m worried that a public event might make him dig his heels in more. He gets off throwing his money and power around so everyone can see.” Prescott’s voice is growing quieter as he speaks. “It’s wonderful the way everyone has come together but I’m worried this is going to backfire. I was thinking maybe a private meeting would work better,” he says.