Blooms Bones and Stones Box Set

by Olivia Swift

  “A bet. I’ll send it to her now and if she says yes, you buy me a pizza?” Miller was hooked.

  “Okay. Do it,” she said decisively, and he sent the photo from his phone. She sat and waited and, sure enough, before a few minutes had elapsed, his phone pinged and he glanced at the message. His face fell a little and she pounced.

  “I was right. She doesn’t want it,” she declared. A smile spread across his face as he held up the screen for her to see. Miller looked and did a double take. Then she snatched the phone and read the message that offered him a price for the picture. He took the cell back and answered “Agreed.”

  Miller sat in her kitchen and her mouth actually dropped open. He waited until she got over the shock, then he kissed her lightly on the forehead. The ripples of response that it triggered in her brain jerked her back to reality. Jules Callander had not been sure if what he felt for this girl he barely knew was real, but the merest touch of his lips against her skin gave him the answer. He hoped he hadn’t blown it. Miller stood up and was face-to-face with the photographer. He almost flinched. Instead she took his sweater and pulled him closer towards her, and then she claimed a kiss in return. The room disappeared. The photograph became meaningless, and there was no way that either of them could deny the feelings that were sparked into action by the meeting of their lips. In the end, Jules held her at arm’s length and smiled.

  “You owe me a pizza,” he said. She burst out laughing. “Let’s go,” he said, and she looked at her clothes.

  “My goodness, I still have to work on things. I can’t go out in these!” She rushed off to make a quick change into what her mother would call expensive casual. She was so fast at the change that he gave her a round of applause, and they set off for the nearest Italian restaurant. Over the meal, he asked where she worked and she found herself telling him about Mr Cardoon and how everyone there was looking for other jobs.

  3

  “So what sort of job are you looking for?” Jules asked her. She screwed up her eyes.

  “Almost anything really. I just need an income to let me keep the house,” she told him.

  “Well half of the photo fee will help the house fund,” he answered, as she put down her knife and fork.

  “I really can’t take it. Honestly. It doesn’t seem right somehow. It is your work and talent that makes it worthy of an art gallery.”

  “What would you do if someone else asked to use you as a model?” he asked. She burst out laughing and then covered her mouth as other customers looked around.

  “Don’t be crazy,” she whispered.

  “So, what if I asked?”

  “You are serious, aren’t you?” She shook her head.

  “Modeling is not for me, Jules, but thanks for giving me the chance.” He put his own cutlery down and reached across for her hand.

  “Please take the fee because I’ll feel that I’ve robbed you if you don’t,” he pleaded. “It’s a one-off. I promise.” Miller looked at his serious expression and nodded her head.

  “Okay. A one-off. Thanks. The money will buy some flooring and help pay for the windows,” she paused. “Can I hang the photo in the house even though the gallery bought it?”

  “I’ll sign it and then it is a personal gift,” he answered and then went on. “I have something else I wanted to ask you though.” She halted, with a forkful of food almost to her mouth, and waited.

  “If you were prepared to part with some of your upcycled pieces and we could sell them, would you do it?” She ate her food and thought about it.

  “I’ll explain a bit more,” Jules said. “You say that my skill is for photography, and it serves me well. Your talent is for this upcycling and restoring furniture. Why not sell some and maybe start a business that would let you leave your job?

  “Do you really think that is possible?” she asked, and he nodded as he ate.

  “There is a shop called Déjà Vu and the owner would cut your hand off for that chest. Tell you what. Take a day off tomorrow and we’ll go and look at the shop. Then you will see what he buys and why I think it would work.” She cautiously told him that a visit to the shop would do no harm, and he agreed to pick her up at ten in the morning.

  They finished the meal and he watched her pay the bill. Her red curls were tamed back in a ponytail, and she had added long drops of emerald green earrings that almost reached her shoulders. The top matched the earrings. He had been around people with lots of money all of his life. He recognized the designer. This woman was used to wearing the best and he thought about her working for the nasty Cardoon in order to make her upcycled furniture.

  They drove back to her house and she hesitated.

  “You don’t need to offer me coffee,” he smiled at her, “but I would like to see what other upcycled pieces you have.” He touched her arm. “I’ll be a gentleman—honest.” She laughed and offered him a coffee. They both stopped to admire the door all over again before going inside.

  “To think that the door will be seen by all sorts of visitors to the gallery--amazing,” she said and headed for the kitchen. The chest was still there, and he ran his hand over the surface and opened the lid.

  “Does that stay with it?” he asked, as he saw the handmade quilt lining the bottom of the box. She came over and lifted it out.

  “Yes. It sort of finishes it off. I like all sorts of stuff---sewing, knitting, and baking. In fact, I like making things.” She walked into the dining room and showed him the dresser. “I won’t part with this because I just love it to bits. When the kitchen is finished, it can be moved in there.”

  “I agree,” he told her. “This is so much you. Letting it go would be a mistake.” There were a table and four chairs in the room. She pointed out that she had sanded and beeswaxed the tabletop, but the legs and chairs were all different colors and splattered with a fine gold mist. There were several small tables and sets of drawers that had been converted in different ways and a rolltop desk that took his eye immediately.

  “That is just wonderful,” he said and ran his hand over the curve of the wood. “You really need photographs of everything.”

  “Yes. I thought about that after you said I needed before and after shots. I will do that in the future.” He asked if he could take some photos of what she might part with and quickly snapped them with the tiny but obviously powerful camera. He showed her the results and she liked what she saw.

  “Coffee,” she said, walking back to the kitchen. “What sort of place is this shop? Should I be dressed up or casual?”

  He laughed. “You’ll find the proprietor very casual indeed, but some of his customers are very fashion conscious.” They took the coffee into the living room and sat on the only two armchairs available.

  “Eventually, the place will be comfortable,” she apologized.

  “What a woman for apologizing,” he said. “For two weeks, you have done wonders. I’ll see you at ten in the morning.” She followed him to the door and onto the step; he turned and held her shoulders. “I’m still being a gentleman.” He decisively went to the car and waved out of the window as he drove away. She stood for some time gazing at the spot where his car had stood and feeling a sort of excitement in her blood that she could not quite place.

  It was still a reasonable time so she rang Jazz. Miller knew she was jabbering and not making a lot of sense, but eventually Jazz heard the details about Jules and the photographs, Jules and the art gallery, Jules and the furniture upcycling, the money, the idea about making it a business, and the fact that they had gone and had a pizza together.

  “Stop. Stop,” she said with a smile in her voice. “To start with, he is a nice man. He is not trying to rob you or anything, and the idea about the furniture is a good one.” She paused, “Look at Carly starting her jewelry shop last year and how well it has done. She had help from Dex and all of us. You are not on your own here.”

  “It is all just so much to take in---and---and---“

  “You really like h
im,” Jazz finished for her, and Miller finally laughed at herself and relaxed.

  “But he is rich and famous,” she finished with a rush. Jazz made a pull-down motion in the air that said “Yippee!”, but Miller didn’t know that. By this time, Evan had moved beside the phone to try and take in what the conversation was about. He was carrying the baby in his arms and just hovered. Jazz told Miller to tell Evan the ideas about the photo and the furniture. She took Molly Kim with one arm and handed him the phone. Miller started again about the photo, gallery, money and ideas, and asked him what he thought.

  “Jules is a great guy,” he started. “He wouldn’t suggest it if he didn’t think it would work. He has made it himself on talent alone even though his folks have money,” he said. “He’s quite a good climber as well. To get those shots of me in the mountains, he had to do the climb himself.”

  She told him about going to the shop in the morning.

  “Go and see what the place is like and how you feel about it. If you are happy selling to this man, give it a try; you can’t really lose. Then when we have this barbecue at the weekend, we can all hear about it.” Jazz heard the last bit and raised an eyebrow. He waved a hand in the air at his wife and said goodbye to Miller.

  “What barbecue?” she asked, and he took the baby back to walk around the room.

  “I just thought it was a good idea. The garden looks great; we can all relax, see Jules, and check out the situation.”

  “Okay,” she pecked his cheek. “You do have good ideas. I’ll just pop next door and bring Carly up-to- date.” She left him looking adoringly at his daughter and smiling to see her eyelids close, ready for bed.

  Miller pulled the duvet over her head and pictured the other pieces of upcycling she had waiting to be done. If there really was a business to be built around her hobby, she was starting to see the possibilities. She drifted off to sleep deciding what to wear the following day.

  She called into work early and told the girl on the telephone to book her a day of her holidays.

  “I have an appointment.” She said it as if it was a hospital or dental visit that had to be attended. Myra on the other end never questioned it and Miller put down the phone smiling.

  “No Cardoon today,” she said happily and went to look at clothes. “The shop owner must be someone who likes unusual things and maybe he’s a bit of a nonconformist himself,” she reasoned, and chose some jeans and an expensive top, finished off with a rather nice flowered jacket. She added heels to match the flowers and slipped her keys and other paraphernalia into a large bag in the same shade. The makeup took some time, and she knew she was worrying more about what Jules would say than the shop owner. She brushed through her huge amount of curls and wondered if she should have it cut really short. In the end, she chose a jaunty hat to hold it in place. A twirl in front of a mirror, that was another upcycling work, seemed to paint a decent picture. She glanced at her watch. It was five minutes before ten as she heard the knock at the door.

  “Mornin’” Jules said, and handed her a small bunch of flowers.

  “Oh,” Miller said, as she took them. “Flowers,” then remembered to say ”thanks” even though it had set her pulses racing a little bit.

  “Thought this was a business trip,” she said, as she took them into the kitchen to find a vase.

  “Impulse buy,” he told her. “Hope it is okay.”

  She smiled and pecked his cheek.

  “Thanks. They just took me by surprise. Let’s go. I can’t wait to see this shop.” They drove away as she asked questions about the sort of things this man would buy. He told her that the shop was set in an unusual setting. As it turned out, he drove through a very upmarket and highly priced area where the shops catered to the wealthy.

  “This is not what I expected,” she commented. He smiled and took a right turn, and then another turn that took them below a railway system that ran overhead. Underneath the arches were numerous artisan businesses.

  “Wow,” she said. “I never knew this was here.” There were spray painters for cars, tattoo artists, and the odd hairdressing salon. There was a small café and a flower shop. He drove up outside of Déjà Vu. “Let’s see what you think,” he said.

  4

  Marvin Blackstock was a tall, Native American, aged about fifty. He wore long, grey hair plaited and tied to fall down his back and a myriad of beads around his neck and arms. Apart from this homage to his heritage, he wore jeans and a tee saying that modern life was “goodish.”

  “Julie, my man,” he shouted and threw his arms around the photographer. “Long time.” Jules extricated himself and introduced Miller. The man held out a polite hand and then a beaming grin spread across his face as he took both of her hands and kissed her on both cheeks.

  “Welcome to Déjà Vu,” he said. “I am delighted to meet any friend of Julie boy.” She laughed at the use of Julie in place of Jules and liked this man instantly.

  “I already love your shop,” she said, taking a sweeping look around. It was filled with elegantly arranged vintage items, some upcycled pieces, and lots of worked wood. There were handmade chenille cushions and throws that brought color and warmth. There were metal lanterns and candleholders and some very unusual pieces indeed. Swathes of vintage materials were stacked on shelves, and curtains softened the brick walls of the railway arches. The man waved an arm in a sweeping curve and told her to explore and enjoy. She looked at some of the items for sale and barely stifled a gasp as she saw the price tags on many of the items. She looked across at Jules who nodded. He knew what she was thinking without having to ask.

  “Thing is, Marvin, I wondered what you thought about this?” He handed over his tablet and the man flicked through the views of the chest that Jules had taken and then he handed it back.

  “Where did you see this? I must have a new competitor.”

  “What is your opinion though?” Jules asked and Marvin grinned.

  “It is superb. I would love to get my hands on pieces like that. They would fly out of the shop.”

  Miller came over to look at the screen as well. Jules put an arm around her shoulders.

  “Marvin Blackstock meet Miller Hollenbeck. She upcycled this and does other stuff as well.”

  His mouth didn’t actually drop open, but it might as well have.

  “Is it for sale?” he asked her when he recovered his senses, and she nodded.

  “But I’m her agent,” Jules put in. “I don’t want her fleeced.”

  “As if I would,” Blackstock said in mock affront at the insult. “I have to make a living though.” He named a figure that Miller thought was astronomical, but Jules squeezed her shoulder tightly enough to stop the words coming out.

  “Add two hundred to that and we’ll deliver today,” Jules said, and the man stuck out a hand to Miller.

  “Deal,” he said.

  “Deal,” she replied and shook the hand. The door tinkled and two customers came in.

  “Go out back and make yourselves a coffee,” Marvin told them and went to charm the birds off the trees and make a sale.

  In the rear room, there were items in boxes and some without packaging stacked everywhere, but they found a couple of seats and Jules poured two cups from the machine that had coffee permanently at the ready. Blackstock came in smiling and poured himself a drink.

  “Another satisfied customer,” he said. “How many more pieces have you got, Miller?”

  She asked Jules for the rest of the photographs and he brought them up on screen. Marvin flicked through them all thoughtfully. “I love your ideas,” he told her. “What would you say if I supplied a wooden item and you did the work?” She nodded and told him she would have to cost each one by the hour and the materials. Jules was impressed that she had suddenly started to be business-like about this idea.

  “We’ll bring the chest over and maybe one of the smaller items for you to see and we can go from there,” he said and stood up. “Should be back in an hour if that suit
s you.”

  Blackstock said that he wasn’t going anywhere, and already in his head knew which customer he would call when the chest was safely in the shop. The two of them climbed back into the car and Miller exploded.

  “Ye gods, Jules. Will he really sell that at a profit?”

  “Oh, yes and quite a hefty profit at that,” he answered as he drove away. “You might as well have some of it.”

  She nodded. “It’s exciting. Maybe I can be free of Bill Cardoon.”

  “Marvin will give you cash, and make sure you count it or he will think you are easy to fleece. He’s a great guy, but business is always business as he would say himself.”

  “How did you get to be so business savvy, Jules?” she asked as she settled into the seat. He looked at her.

  “my folks are?” he asked. She shook her head and he named a bank that everyone the world over had heard about. “My dad wanted me to be the perfect son and follow in his footsteps, but I cannot stand the whole setup. I held out for photography. He was not pleased, but I did pick up some attitude on the way.”

  “But you still live at home?” she asked and he nodded.

  “I have a wonderful dark room and studio, and I look after the house when they are away. They love to travel so we stay out of each others’ hair. I have to go on assignments as well and it seems to work. We are rarely there at the same time.”

  “I am so lucky with my mom,” she told him “Then she met my stepdad and she is happy as well. I know they are both there if I need them. He lent me the money to buy the house.”

  The back seats of the car folded to allow enough room for the chest and a small coffee table, and they drove back to the railway arches. Marvin was overjoyed with the work that she had done and counted out the money to her in the back room. She watched as he did it and did not recount it herself. It was stashed safely in her bag, and Blackstock ran his hand over the surface of the chest.