The Pandora Effect

by Olivia Darnell

  “Did you finish your fortune cookies?” He asked uncertainly trying to snap her out of the trance-like state.

  “Yes, I did,” she nodded. “Thank you. In fact, I wanted to buy some more while I’m here.”

  “Of course.” He smiled. She was going to be a hard sell. The last thing he wanted was another entanglement with Mildred Morris. He would have to be very careful. “Right this way.”

  Mildred Morris left the shop a while later loaded down with bags full of Scottish shortbread, Swiss chocolate, fortune cookies, tea, cheese, wine and a fabulous tortoise shell necessaire filled with scented wax chips. It would look very classy on Sam Junior’s desk at the Savings and Loan, she had told him and perhaps dispel the odor of the obnoxious cigars he smoked. She chuckled to herself over the great deal he had made her on the tortoise shell box. Imagine trading the little gold box for the gorgeous piece of work she was taking to Sam! Perry would go broke making deals like that. And that silly legend about the Pandora Box. He had been so serious about it. Well, at least he had given her a thrill for a moment when he’d looked into her eyes and touched her hand. She was much too old for that sort of dalliance, but it never hurt to indulge one’s fancy from time to time. But if only bad things could be discarded so easily, it would have been nice. If only she could rid Sam Junior of his hatred for his father, then perhaps he would understand her better and maybe even love her as much as she loved him. What a pity. She looked back at Perry once more before leaving the store and wondered if he would look in the box and see what she had written on the paper.

  When she reached the sidewalk, she was surprised to see Sammy standing in front of Louis’ booth examining a glass candy dish.

  “Surely you’re not thinking of buying that thing for me again, are you?” She laughed when he looked up at her.

  “I thought Dad bought it for you.” He frowned. “Why did you give it away? I remember when he picked it out for you. It was one of the best times I ever spent with the old man.”

  “Really?” She raised both eyebrows in surprise. She didn’t know he’d ever had a good time with his father. Was he becoming sentimental? Or was he just depressed over that Fitzgerald woman’s departure?

  “I’m going to buy it back for you,” he told her and pulled out his wallet. “I know Dad would want you to have it.”

  He gave the money to Tyler and placed the dish in her bag.

  “Look,” she said putting down the heavy bag on the table. “Won’t this look good on your desk?” She pulled out the necessaire to hand it to him.

  “Yeah, it’s real nice,” he told her and sniffed the wax inside. “I just bought one of these little ones from Louis.” He showed her one of the Pandora Boxes.

  “Oh, really?” She picked up her bag and he immediately took it from her. They started off down the street together. “Did he tell you the legend?”

  “No,” he said. “What legend?”

  She told him the story of the Pandora Box as they walked along. She became lost in the story and was soon telling him about all the stuff in the Gift Shop. Finally, she ended up singing praises of Perry Aliger while Sam’s face grew darker and darker. When he could stand it no longer he held up one hand.

  “Mother! Please,” he said and she stopped in her tracks. “I asked you to check on him for me. I didn’t ask you to fall in love with him, too. For God’s sake. I’m sick of hearing about how wonderful he is. I see he’s charmed you right out of your panty hose! And sold you half his store in the process.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly, dear,” his mother lowered her voice and looked around at the people nearby. “He’s a perfect gentleman. This notion that he’s been after Maureen is ridiculous. I just can’t imagine such a thing.”

  “Oh, really?!” Sam snapped and glared at her. “Didn’t you just call me this morning at six and practically tell me where he spent the night?”

  “I said no such thing!” His mother protested. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Patterson. How’s the gout?” She paused to speak to an acquaintance. “That’s good. Now look here, Sammy. You need to spend more time worrying about your business than him and that woman.”

  “Hello, Mrs. Godkin,” Sam spoke to another lady in a pink suit. “Mother!” He said through gritted teeth and dragged her further down the street. “He spent the night with her last night! She told me so herself. I went over there this morning after you called and it was true.”

  “Ridiculous,” his mother shook her head. “Mrs. Barnes! How are you doing? Long time, no see. Maureen just wishes she could have that. She’s just trying to make you jealous. If you play your cards right, you could still land his account for your bank. Ms. Langley! How’s your grandfather?” She nodded to a young lady pushing a baby carriage. “Oh, that’s too bad. Look, Sammy, I want you to make nice with Perry Aliger. Oh my God! Look at that dress! Looks like someone poured her into it. I don’t want to hear any more about that woman. She left you and I’m glad. I’m sure he harbors no ill-will for your behavior the other morning. You should go on back to the shop and talk to him.”

  “I will do no such thing!” He looked at her in disgust and then quickly smiled as he recognized one his customers from the Savings and Loan. “You’ve been completely taken in by him. Just like Maureen. I think I saw her down by the barbershop earlier. I’m going to see if I can find her.” He handed her the bag and stalked off down the sidewalk in search of Maureen. At least he had said something good about his father. Now, if she could just get him to stop chasing after that woman.

  “Hello, Mr. Holbrook! And how is Mrs. Holbrook? What a pity. What a pity.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two:.

  By five o’clock, Louis had sold everything at his booth except an ugly metal Spanish galleon and one gold box. It was so strange that no one had bought it. He must have seen a hundred people pick it up, admire it and then put it back down. He was more than ready to pack it up and get home. Julia had come down around three and allowed him to escort her around the street sale on his arm. He had been so happy to see her. It made sick to think it was probably only a temporary reprieve before the real trouble would set in. She had declined Angelica’s offer of a place to rest upstairs, but had promised to return to the dance with Louis later, at least for a little while. In a burst of good will, he took fifteen dollars from his own pocket and dropped it in the cigar box to buy the last two items. That would make the total four hundred and fifty dollars. A lot more than he had expected to make. It was over a quarter of the twelve hundred he needed for the flagpole renovation.

  Tyler had gone home with Paula Anne after Aunt Mary had visited the Gift Shop. Mike courageously stayed til the end and hobbled about helping Louis close up shop. The auction would start at six in the library parking lot. He wanted to take the remains of his booth home and get back for that. He also needed to check on Julia and make sure she was alright.

  Perry escorted the last customer to the door and turned off the ‘Open’ sign before closing and locking the door. He pulled down the satin shade and looked around very pleased with the outcome of their endeavor. Eight out of eleven of the little boxes had come home. Angelica went about the shop straightening the shelves. They would have to hurry to get cleaned up and change clothes before going over to the library for the auction and then to the dance. He gathered his collection of boxes from under the counter and started for the stairs leading up to the apartment.

  Perry left the boxes on the dining table and went to the bedroom closet to pull out a heavy, cedar box with iron straps and a big, old-fashioned padlock shaped like a heart. It was heavy and smelled old. He lugged it to the dining room and pulled the key to the lock from his pocket. The chest was lined with thick, red velvet and it held one gleaming box. Julia Parks’. He smoothed out the velvet and stood up to look at the boxes. He picked up each one and held it briefly to remember whose it was before placing it in the larger box. Reggie Greene. Mildred Morris. Paula Anne McDaniels. Cheryl Martin. Hannah Lipscomb. Maureen Fitzgerald. He had
even managed to get Joanne Parker’s box she had bought for Chris by trading her a bigger box with chocolate cigars in it. He would have to find a way to get back the one Bobby Greene had bought for Joanne. That would be tricky. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the problem momentarily. Good. The broken hinge would require her to brink it back to him. The other three would be harder. The heavy lock snapped closed on the chest and he stood up to find Angelica leaning against the door watching him.

  “Would you need to eat?” She asked him.

  “Yes, I think so,” he told her. “I haven’t had anything since breakfast. Toast and Oh Jay. And, oh yes, some sort of eggs, but I didn’t care for them.”

  “You cook. I’ll make tea,” she said as he followed her to the kitchen.

  Cooking meant tossing a salad together. They rarely ate anything else other than cheese and bread. The roast Angelica had cooked for the dinner party had not set too well with either of them. Too much protein, Angelica had told him.

  “Peregrin,” she said as she set the kettle of water on the burner. “You must tell me about Maureen Fitzgerald.”

  “There is nothing to tell.” He glanced at her and then went for the salad greens in the refrigerator.

  “You slept with her,” Angelica said simply. He wished she wouldn’t bring it up. He would have loved to have discussed just such a topic with her only a few days prior, but now it was not such an entertaining idea. In fact, he wished whole-heartedly that she had never learned about it at all.

  “I’ve slept with you,” he said evasively.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Apparently not.” He tore open the bag and lettuce flew everywhere. He gathered it up to dump it in a bowl and stuffed some in his mouth before remembering what Maureen had asked him about eating everything he spilled on the cabinet. He went back for the feta cheese.

  “Yes, you do.” Angelica leaned against the counter to watch him.

  “Well, she was in the bed when I woke up,” he said. “It was the strangest thing. There was a little bird on the window sill. It was caught by a string on its foot. I think it may have...”

  “Peregrin,” she interrupted him. “I don’t want to hear about birds or the bees.”

  He dropped the cheese package on the floor and bent to snatch it up then spilled it on the counter. He brushed it in his hand and sprinkled it on the salad.

  “Oil and vinegar?” He looked up at her.

  “Yes, please,” she nodded. “Blue sparks?” she asked.

  “What?” He bumped his head on the upper cabinet door. “Static electricity, I presume,” he said pouring the oil and vinegar dressing all over his hand. He licked it off. “I assure you that when I discovered where I was, I gathered my clothes and came home as soon as I could persuade her to drive me.”

  “You gathered your clothes?” She raised both eyebrows. “Were they scattered?”

  “No, they were hanging in the bathroom,” he told her and pulled two plates down from the cupboard and opened the spoon drawer.

  “I see,” she said. “Then you were not wearing them?”

  “How could I wear them if they were in the bathroom?” He asked her, smiling stupidly as he realized his own faux pas and proceeded to pull the drawer all the way out, dumping the contents on the floor with a huge crash. She came round to help him pick up the spill.

  “Then you must have taken them off and given them to her or you hung them in the bathroom yourself? You never do that here.” She knelt beside him. He gathered up a double handful of flatware and then banged his head on the empty drawer he’d left haphazardly open.

  He stood up and dumped the utensils back in the drawer.

  “No, she hung them up to dry, I suppose. They must have been wet. Of course, I don’t know how she got the bloodstains off my shirt. A good trick, I guess.”

  “A very good trick,” Angelica agreed and rose up with the rest of the flatware and began to straighten the contents of the drawer.

  “I don’t know how she got my clothes to tell you the truth,” he said rubbing the back of his head. “Do you want bell peppers or celery?”

  “Celery!” She almost sounded angry again. “So you slept in her bed without your clothes!”

  “Angelica, if you want to know something, just ask,” he said sarcastically and went to find the celery.

  “You have never slept with me in that manner,” she said accusingly. “I have thought it over and I have decided that I do not like it at all. At first I was amused, but after further thought, I feel differently. And, furthermore, I do not like, disliking it. It is very distressing.”

  “It would serve very little purpose to undress to sleep with you, Angelica!” He looked at her incredulously whilst taking out the bell pepper instead of the celery. “You have been locking the bedroom door. What should I do? Undress and slip in through the keyhole? And then what? I believe I would find it most awkward.”

  “Why?” She asked him.

  He put down the peppers to stare at her, bewildered.

  “Angelica!” He almost shouted at her. “You are the most exasperating person I have ever known in this world or any other! I don’t understand what you are trying to say. Do you want me to sleep with you or not? Do you want me to wear clothes or not? Are you trying to drive me crazy or not?”

  She looked at him steadily without blinking. He stopped talking and held up one hand.

  “You want to know what it was like?” He asked. “Wait here.”

  He bounded down the stairs to the shop and searched about frantically in the aisles before returning back to the kitchen.

  “Here!” He handed her one of the kaleidoscopes. “Look in there while twisting the end of the device. That’s what it was like.”

  Angelica held up the sparkling device and twisted it in the light.

  “Hmmm,” she remarked after a moment.

  “So would you like to try it?” He asked after a long pause.

  “Would thirty minutes a day be sufficient to keep you happy?” She looked at him around the toy.

  “Perhaps,” he nodded and picked up the peppers. “Do you want radishes?”

  “No.”

  “Carrots or olives?”

  “Olives.”

  “Wheat or white bread?”

  “White.”

  “Now or later?””

  “Later.”

  A knock sounded on their door and Angelica frowned at him.

  “What does Joanne Parker want?” She asked him accusingly.

  “She wants to make a trade, I believe.” Perry smiled at her enigmatically and went to open the door. Joanne stood holding the little box with the broken hinge.

  “I was wonderin’ if you might have another one of these?” She held up the box. “I broke it and I don’t want Bobby to find out.”

  “I think I might be able to fix you up,” Perry said as he held the door open for her. She glanced over her shoulder before stepping inside.

  He looked at the tiny hinge with a magnifying glass a few moments later as they sat at the bar in the kitchen.

  "I'm afraid I can't fix this, Miss Parker," he said sadly. "I can only give your money back."

  "Oh, no, that will never work," she said. "Bobby gave me that for an early birthday present and my birthday is not until Tuesday. He wanted me to have it. He told me the story behind it and wanted me to write something down for a birthday wish. I did, but I broke the hinge, I guess, when I tried to close it."

  "Well, let me run down to the store and see what I can find," Perry told her and winked at Angelica. "Won't you give Joanne something to drink, sweetheart?"

  Perry left them alone and was back shortly with another, very similar box from the shop. Angelica frowned at the sight of the box she recognized as having contained a very expensive little bottle of fragrant oil meant for use in a diffuser. The bottle was gone when he opened it and there was nothing inside.

  "I don't have any more of the little pencils and parchments," h
e apologized. "You can just use a slip of paper and your own pen and he'll probably never know the difference."

  "Yeah, I guess so," Joanne examined the little box. It was the same size, the same color and decorated with the same sort of designs. A yellow rose with green leaves inlaid with some sort of porcelain glaze. Bobby would never know the difference. Hell, he'd probably never see it again, if she just set it on the top of her bookshelf. "OK. Sure. What kind of paint is this?"

  "That's called cloisonné," Angelica told her. "It's very lovely. It should smell nice, too." She glanced at Perry.

  Joanne held the little box under her nose and smiled. Angelica pushed the original box further down the bar and looked at it apprehensively while Perry escorted her to the door.

  Billy parked his one-ton pickup at the feed store and walked over to the library. They usually had some pretty good bargains at the auction. He had found Joe Weiss earlier on, got himself a kitten and talked the man into fixing his truck as well. He took a seat on one of the concrete bases around a tall streetlight and waited for the auction to begin. A few people nodded to him as they passed. Some of them whispered, but he ignored them. Very few people actually spoke to him, but he knew most of them by name. They were probably talking about how he’d beat up his friends, Mike and Tyler. He didn’t care. Hadn’t they deserved it? Hell, they knew how he was when he was drunk. Why had they tried to stop him? He couldn’t be held responsible for their stupidity. So what if that pansy-ass had saved his life? He still owed him a good ass-kicking. He’d make it up to him afterwards by driving him to the hospital. Turn about was fair play. Then they would be even. He smiled at his own twisted logic and pulled a small flat bag from his bib pocket and took a short swig off his bottle of Jack Daniels. The warm sensation of the liquor going down comforted him better than an old friend. He watched disinterestedly as Tejas Tom and the Two-Steppin’ Tomboys set up their equipment on the bandstand near the front of the library. He didn’t dance much. Never had, but he enjoyed the music. He’d seen the Tomboys before. They were real pretty to look at. Tom’s all-cowgirl band, dressed in fringed mini-skirts, was scurrying about the stage.