by Susan Gloss
Violet exhaled. “Oh, well I’m not an interested party. I mean, she was a friend of mine, but I’m not a family member or heir or anything.”
“According to Mrs. Barrett’s will, you are to receive some of her possessions.”
Violet sucked in her breath. “What?”
“Mrs. Barrett named you as a beneficiary in her will. You’re the only human being, actually, that she named. Everything else is either going to the arts trust she set up or to various charities.”
“You’ve got to be kidding. Not about the charities part, I mean. The part about me.”
The man picked up his briefcase again and clicked it open. “Here’s my card, and a copy of the will, so you can see for yourself. Betsy directed that I deliver the news to you in person, rather than calling or e-mailing.”
Violet extended a shaking hand and took the papers from him.
“I should let you know that we have to set up the trust first, the Barrett Center for the Arts. And we need to pay off her medical bills with funds from the estate,” he said. “Those are our priorities at the moment. As soon as we’ve done that, we’ll contact you to make arrangements to give you the personal items she wanted you to have, probably within a month or so.”
“Okay,” Violet said, dumbfounded.
“We also need to have the items appraised for estate-tax purposes, so when that’s done, we’ll give you an itemized list of all the values for your own records.” The man smiled. “I don’t know much about fashion, but even so, I suspect several of the clothing items are of significant value.”
Violet thought of her friend’s lovely suits and dresses, her dozens of pairs of designer sunglasses and shoes. She was sad to think she’d never again see Betsy wearing any of them.
After the lawyer had left, Violet flipped open the document he’d given her and turned to the signature page with hands still trembling with shock. She saw that the will had been signed and dated over a year ago—before Violet’s problems with the eviction and before she even knew about Betsy’s illness. For some reason, this made Violet happy. Betsy had known about her troubles with her landlord, and Violet hoped her friend hadn’t left her money just because of that. Like Betsy, Violet didn’t like to be pitied. Knowing that Betsy had put her in the will out of pure affection, rather than charity, made the gift more meaningful.
Behind the last page of the will was a document that read “Memorandum Disposing of Personal Property” across the top. Betsy’s lawyer had explained that this was the part of the estate plan that indicated where Betsy’s specific possessions were supposed to go and told Violet where she should look for her own name. The memorandum was several pages long, with lists of Betsy’s treasures and their intended recipients. Her silver collection was to go to the state historical society. Her artwork was itemized, with some pieces going to the trust that would run the Barrett Center for the Arts and some going to the contemporary art museum. Some of the items had instructions scribbled next to them, like “for the permanent collection” or “to be used in whatever manner most needed.”
The last page listed Betsy’s fur coats, handbag collection, and “the entire contents of the bedroom closet.” Next to those items, Violet read the following phrase: “to Violet Turner, for her own personal enjoyment, or to use, donate, or sell as she sees fit.”
Violet realized with a heavy heart that she would finally get to see all the contents of Betsy’s closet—something she’d always been curious about—but regretted that her friend wouldn’t be there to tell her the stories behind all of her beautiful clothes.
April came into the store that afternoon, toting a sleeping Kate in a car seat carrier. She set the carrier on the counter where she and Violet could both admire her.
“Welcome, Mama,” Violet said. She surveyed April’s ikat-print skirt and layers of beaded wooden necklaces she’d purchased from the shop. “You look way too good to have just had a baby. But why are you here? I told you I’ve got things under control. I thought you were going to take some time off.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I didn’t come in to work,” April said. “I just needed to get out of the house. Sitting around all day reminds me of being on bed rest. So what did I miss around here?”
Violet slid the copy of the will across the counter.
“What’s this?” April picked it up. “Something about ‘estate of Barrett’?”
Violet grinned. “I just found out Betsy left me everything in her closet, that sneaky darling.”
“Seriously? That’s incredible,” April said, letting out a squeal.
Little Kate opened her eyes at the sound of her mother’s voice, then yawned and closed them again.
“So,” Violet said, “since I’m no longer on the brink of being evicted, and since I apparently will have some valuable items coming my way soon, it looks like I won’t be quite so tight on funds as I have been in the past. It got me thinking about how I want to run things around here in the future.”
“Oh, yeah? Have you reconsidered my idea about selling costumes?”
“Yeah, and I think we should do it, but I’m talking more about big-picture things.”
“Like what?”
“Well, when you were gone, both before you had Kate and in the last few days, I realized how much value you bring to the store.”
“Thanks,” April said. “That means a lot to me.”
“And I decided that, with your internship wrapping up, I’d like to offer you a position as a paid employee, if you think you’ll have enough time to work a few hours a week once you get settled into your routine with classes and Kate and everything.” Violet smiled. “Only if you want to. No pressure.”
“Of course I want to,” April said. “I honestly didn’t think it was a possibility, though.”
“You know, as much as I love the store, I love other things, too,” Violet said. “And as long as I’m the only one running this place, I rarely have time for anything else. Seeing you with Kate, I’ve realized that someday, not now of course—I’m still busy settling into my new space—but hopefully in the not-too-far-off future, I’d love to have a family of my own.” Violet leaned over and touched the baby’s pink cheek.
“Really? Like you’re going to adopt or do in vitro or something?” April put a hand over her mouth. “Sorry, was that too personal?”
Violet shrugged. “Maybe fostering. I don’t know. I haven’t gotten that far into the details yet. But I’m just saying it’s something I want. And when it happens, I have no idea how I’d have enough time to both be a mother and run this place seven days a week. So, if you’re still interested in working here . . .”
“I’m definitely interested,” April said. “I’ll probably have to work a pretty light schedule during the school year, though. I think my classes are gonna be pretty tough. I tested into some math classes that are usually reserved for juniors and seniors.”
“That’s fine. We can work around your schedule.”
April grinned. “What made you change your mind?” she asked. “You have to admit you were pretty resistant to the idea of working with anyone at first. I’m pretty sure Betsy had to force us together.”
“Yeah,” said Violet. “But she knew what she was doing.”
Chapter 29
INVENTORY ITEM: costume
APPROXIMATE DATE: 1995
CONDITION: excellent
ITEM DESCRIPTION: Circus tightrope-walker costume. Satin leotard with red and gold sequins.
SOURCE: Lane Lawton. Worn for an off-Broadway production in New York.
April
APRIL WAS ARRANGING COCKTAIL dresses on hangers on a Tuesday in October, hoping to attract students shopping for homecoming, when the phone rang at the shop. She walked over to the sales counter and picked it up.
“It’s me, Violet,” said the breathless voice on the other end. “Are there any customers in the store?”
“No. We had a rush over the lunch hour, but things have calmed down,” April said. “Amithi’s upst
airs working on some alterations.”
“Okay, well can you close the store down for an hour or so? I need you to come meet me at 215 South Hamilton right away. I found something amazing, and I’m afraid if I don’t act on it now, someone else will snatch it up.”
April jotted down the address. “Sure, I’ll come, but I don’t think we need to close the shop. I can ask Amithi to watch the store while I’m gone.”
“No, bring her along. I could use her help, too.”
“What if we get busy again, though?” April asked. “With Halloween coming up, we might get some people in here looking for costumes. I have to say I told you so about the costumes thing. Ever since we put them out on the sales floor, they’ve been flying off the racks. Oh, remember that awesome circus costume of Lane’s? Someone put it on hold yesterday and said they’d be back in to buy it this afternoon.”
“Okay, well, just put a sign on the door that says you’ll be back soon and close up the store. This won’t take long, I promise.”
April went upstairs to the sunroom, where Amithi sat bent over a sewing machine, working with a swath of shimmery black fabric.
“Violet just called,” April shouted over the hum of the sewing machine. “She wants us to come meet her.”
Amithi stopped the machine. “Right now? I have to finish taking in this dress before I leave for India tomorrow. I promised the customer I would get it done.”
“Violet said to come right away.”
“Why?” asked Amithi.
“I’ve learned that with Violet, sometimes it’s best not to question.”
April locked the shop doors. She and Amithi caught the bus and got off at South Hamilton Street near the capitol. April looked at the address she’d written down and tried to match it with one of the nearby buildings. All she could see was the courthouse, a bank, a parking garage, and some dilapidated rental houses with political yard signs for the upcoming election cycle cluttering their front lawns. Where could Violet possibly have found some sort of vintage treasure here? Maybe she found something on Craigslist—a priceless piece of couture stashed in the basement of one of these old houses.
She and Amithi walked up and down the block, looking at the address numbers: 210, 212 . . . but no 215. April stopped a man coming out of the courthouse with a briefcase.
“Excuse me, sir, do you know where I can find 215 South Hamilton?” she asked.
He pointed his thumb at the massive building over his shoulder. “That’s the address of the courthouse.”
Perplexed, April and Amithi climbed the stairs and went inside, where a security guard made them remove their coats and handbags and run them through a metal detector. April panicked, wondering if maybe Violet had been summoned to court for something to do with the lease on the old building. She thought Violet had worked with Karen to get that all cleared up before moving the shop into her mom’s old house, but maybe there was some detail they’d overlooked.
“Excuse me,” Amithi said to the security guard. “Have you seen a woman with short black hair come through here?”
The guard scratched his graying beard. “Was she wearing a wedding dress?”
Amithi shrugged as April said, “Um, I don’t believe so.”
“Almost all the women I’ve seen come through here in the last hour or so looked like lawyers. You know, they were wearing suits and carrying files and stuff. Only lady I’ve seen who didn’t look like a lawyer had on a wedding dress.”
“Hmmm,” April said. “Well, thanks anyway. I guess we’ll just wait here in the lobby until we see our friend.”
“Oh, and the lady I saw, the one in the dress, she had tattoos. One of a bird, and something else. A starfish?”
Beyond the security guard, April caught sight of Violet coming out of the elevator, wearing the ivory, full-skirted 1950s gown April had purchased for her own wedding, and then returned, back in the spring.
Amithi gasped.
April rushed toward Violet. “Is this what I think it is?”
Violet hugged each of them as best she could without crushing the bouquet of red ranunculus dangling from her hand. “Sam and I are getting married and we need two witnesses. Come on!” Violet flashed a red-lipsticked smile, then beckoned her friends into the elevator.
“Of course we will be your witnesses,” Amithi said. “How wonderful.”
April wasn’t quite so sure. Violet and Sam had been broken up for a couple of months now. Questions rose to her lips, but there were other people riding with them in the elevator—serious-looking, white-haired people wearing ties—so she just stood there in silence like everyone else.
They got off on the third floor and followed Violet into a courtroom, where Sam paced in front of the jury box like a defense attorney about to deliver his closing argument. His face lit up when he saw Violet and he buttoned his houndstooth blazer.
April was still too stunned to be able to articulate anything, so she just hovered near the door.
Amithi grabbed her gently by the arm. “I think we are supposed to go up to the front.”
The bespectacled clerk looked up from her computer and asked, “Should I tell the judge we’re ready?”
“Yes,” Violet and Sam both said at the same time.
Chapter 30
INVENTORY ITEM: wedding gown
APPROXIMATE DATE: 1952
CONDITION: good, minor discoloration on lining
ITEM DESCRIPTION: Ivory, tea-length gown with scooped neckline and cap sleeves. Silk taffeta with crinoline understructure.
SOURCE: Dress acquired from the couple’s daughter. Later purchased and returned by April Morgan. Worn for the wedding of Violet Turner and Sam Lewis.
Violet
VIOLET HAD BEEN PRUNING April’s mother’s peony plants on the side of the house on an October Sunday when she heard a car pull into the driveway. She had pulled off her gardening gloves and wiped her hands on the vintage Boy Scout button-down she liked to wear for yard work. Before buying the house, Violet wouldn’t have guessed she’d enjoy weeding the flower beds and mowing the tiny lawn. But it turned out that being outside in the autumn air, caring for living things, had a calming effect on her.
She walked around to the front of the house, where Miles had awoken from his nap and now stood on the porch, barking at a white Subaru in the driveway.
Sam’s car.
He got out and, in two steps, crossed the small expanse of grass separating him and Violet. For a moment, he looked as if he was going to throw his arms around her, and she, too, wanted nothing more than that. But caution and confusion paralyzed her. Sam must have sensed it, too, because he didn’t move any closer.
He cleared his throat. “The shop looks great,” he said. “As if it was meant to be here all along.”
“Thanks,” she said.
“Are you in the middle of something?”
“No. Just some gardening.”
Violet wanted to scream, Enough with the small talk! He looked even more handsome now than the picture of him she’d been carrying around in her head since they broke up. He’d let his beard grow in a bit, and Violet had to stop herself from reaching up and putting her hands on his cheeks, tilting her head up to kiss him.
“I’ve done some soul searching,” he said.
“Me too.”
“If I look a bit worse for wear, it’s because I’ve been camping out at Devil’s Lake all weekend.”
“It’s okay,” Violet said. “I’m all full of dirt anyway.”
“It’s a good look for you,” he said. “And is that a new tattoo I see?”
Violet nodded.
Sam reached out and traced the outline of the starfish on Violet’s bicep with his finger, sending a rush of longing through her.
“So did you find out anything about your soul?” she asked. “You know, in your search?”
Sam ran his fingers down her arm and caught her hand in his. “I spent the weekend hiking around the bluffs and canyons there. Everywhere I went
, I kept seeing all these families. You know, like big-eyed little girls toting walking sticks and curious boys collecting shells on the shore of the lake. I noticed the parents were always lagging behind them, chatting to each other, you know?”
Violet nodded. She could picture the parents, walking under the orange- and crimson-colored leaves, the children with their fuzzy sweatshirts and scraped knees. She was afraid to hear what Sam had to say next. Afraid to hope.
“For the first time, I could picture myself as one of those parents without feeling afraid,” Sam said. “And I think it’s because I pictured you, too, chasing after a kid in one of your impractical outfits.”
Violet laughed, bathing in a sudden rush of pure joy. “Who are you calling impractical? I’ve got on a Boy Scout shirt. What’s more practical than that?”
“Yeah, but look at your shoes.” He pointed at Violet’s high-heeled, lace-up ankle boots.
“Okay,” she said. “But I promise you I walk better in these than in gym shoes.”
“Seriously, though,” he said. “I want to be with you, whatever that means. Anything I do with you is gonna be an adventure. Of course, I realize there are no guarantees that we’ll be able to, you know, have a family. Or that, if we do, it would be anything like the ones I saw this weekend.”
“Of course not,” Violet said, still grinning. “It would be cuter.”
Sam squeezed her hand and produced a blue velvet box from the pocket of his jeans. He opened it to reveal a vintage ring—a square diamond nestled in a silver art deco setting. He didn’t even have to ask the question.
As soon as Violet saw the ring, her fears about being married again, about losing her freedom, fell away. She reached up to touch his face like she’d wanted to just a few moments earlier and said, “Let’s do it.”
Now, on the steps outside the courthouse, they posed and waited for April to snap a picture. Sam pulled Violet close and lifted up her birdcage veil to kiss her. Men and women in suits walking in and out of the building stared at them, but she didn’t care.
“I’m starving,” Sam said as he pulled away. “I was too nervous all day to eat anything.”
