by Patricia Fry
“To the studio, then lunch. Oh, before that, we’ll drive past the building where the book fair will be held. This is actually the easiest way to get there from our house.” She glanced at Savannah. “By the way, your books arrived a couple of days ago.”
“Great. Thanks. Don’t let me forget to take them tomorrow. I’ll put them in my car tonight.”
Minutes later Rochelle drove into a large parking lot and pointed. “That’s it—the old building that has survived demolition more times than I can count and has been used for every purpose you can think of.”
“Interesting,” Savannah said. “So what was it originally?”
“It was an office building for many years, an Elks lodge, a theater for the performing arts, a flophouse of sorts, a sporting goods store,” she used a mysterious tone, “and even a brothel—at least that’s the rumor.”
“Looks old,” Savannah said.
“That it is. Don’t quote me, but I believe it was built in the heyday of the thirties as a gentleman’s club.” Rochelle laughed. “I guess it became obsolete when gentlemen quit being gentlemen.”
“Good one,” Savannah complimented. She added, “It’s kind of run down. I can see why citizens would want to have it demolished. It looks abandoned.”
“That’s because the upper floors are no longer being used—just the event hall.”
“But do you think anyone will attend the book fair? Do people actually come here?”
Rochelle pointed. “See the marquee?” She read, “‘San Francisco Regional Book Fair.’ Oh yes, when they have an event here it’s well-attended. The inside is actually better than the outside. Trust me.”
“Okay, if you say so,” Savannah said with a hint of doubt.” She studied a sign over the front entrance. “Bamford.”
“Yes. Evidently that was the name of one of the gentlemen who frequented the original club, or maybe he’s the one who organized it. I’m not sure, but it’s known by most everyone as the Bamford Building. Hey, want to go look inside?”
“Do we have time? Is it open?”
“It might be open.” Rochelle grinned. “As for time, we don’t have a schedule. We’re free spirits today.”
“Okay, then, let’s take a look. I’d like to know what to expect when I arrive tomorrow.”
“Wait,” Rochelle said, “you’re not a Taurus or a Virgo or Cancer, are you?”
Confused, Savannah responded, “No. I’m a Gemini, why?”
“That’s what I thought. I’m just surprised that you’re not playing it by ear like you usually do and like most adventurous Geminis do.”
Savannah hesitated. “Is there something wrong with my wanting to check it out?”
“No. Definitely not. Come on.”
The women found the front door to be locked, so they wandered around the perimeter of the building for a few minutes. “I’d certainly vote to demolish it,” Savannah muttered. “There’s just nothing appealing about it.” She squinted. “I can see that it probably had a measure of charm at some point in its history.”
“Yeah, well, it actually is scheduled to go under the wrecking ball.” Rochelle added, more dramatically, “Finally!”
“It is?” Savannah asked. “For sure this time, or…?”
“Evidently they got the go-ahead. The book fair will be one of the last events to be held here—maybe the last.”
“Gosh, that’s rather historical,” Savannah said. “I’ll be witnessing—even participating in—the end of an era.”
“Yup,” Rochelle agreed. “I’m one of those who’ll be glad to see it go.”
“What will take its place?” Savannah asked.
“There’s talk of creating a community park and gardens. Another rumor says they might build a modern convention center.” Rochelle faced Savannah. “Maybe in a few years you’ll have a booth at a book fair in a brand-new facility here.”
Savannah smiled.
The two women were headed back to the car when Savannah stopped and nudged Rochelle. “What do you suppose she’s doing?”
“Who?” Rochelle asked.
“That woman over there in the bushes. Looks like she has some sort of digging tool.”
“In the bushes?” Rochelle repeated. “Oh, I see her. Yeah, I wonder what she’s looking for.” She laughed. “That’s quite a hat she’s hiding under. Hey, maybe she’s the gardener.”
“Pshaw,” Savannah huffed. “Doesn’t look like a gardener’s been here in decades.” She frowned. “Maybe she lost something in the dirt next to the building there. She’s sure focused.” She faced Rochelle. “I’m curious. Let’s go ask her what she’s up to. Maybe she’s looking for a kitten or something.”
Rochelle balked. “Or she could be one of our weirdoes.”
“You have weirdoes?”
“Sure we do!” Rochelle exclaimed. “It’s a big city. All big cities and many smaller towns have weirdoes.” She grinned at Savannah. “Probably even Hammond.”
Savannah smiled knowingly at her friend as they continued strolling toward Rochelle’s car. Before scooting into the passenger seat she noticed, “Hey, here she comes.” She called out, “Did you lose something? Do you need help finding something?”
“Oh, um…” the woman stammered. “I was…uh…” She climbed into the only other car in the lot and drove away.
“Yeah,” Rochelle said, “weirdo.”
Savannah stared in the direction the woman had been searching and muttered. “I wonder. She looked to me like she was on a mission, with that floppy hat and oversized bag of tools.”
“Tools?” Rochelle questioned.
“Yeah, she was using some sort of spade. I imagine she stashed it in that leather bag she was carrying, don’t you?”
◆◆◆
“Hi, honey,” Rochelle said when Peter greeted them at their studio. “Getting any activity this morning?”
“Yes, actually. I sold a piece of your jewelry—that new turquoise pendant you made.”
“Darn,” Rochelle said, “I wanted to show that to Savannah.”
Peter pulled a small box from a drawer and handed it to her. “Be my guest. The customer wants you to put those magnetic fasteners on it. She’ll pick it up later today or tomorrow.”
“Great,” Rochelle said, opening the box and lifting out the pendant. “This is my latest.
Do you like the style?”
“I love it; are you kidding? It’s as if you made it for me.” She held it up to herself and admired it in a mirror. “It’s stunning.” She faced Rochelle. “Can you make another one?”
“Sure, but it won’t be exactly the same.”
“All the better,” Savannah said. “Of course, I want a one-of-a-kind Rochelle Whitcomb original, but similar to this one, okay?”
Rochelle smiled. “You got it.” She glanced around, then said to Peter, “Honey, you did a great job of displaying my jewelry this morning. Thank you.”
“Sure, I knew you wanted to show it to Savannah, and I had some free time.”
She kissed him briefly, then invited, “Come take a look, Savannah. Who are you buying for? You said you’re Christmas shopping? For your family and close friends, right?”
“Yes. Mom, Auntie, Bri, and I’d love to give something pretty to Iris and Colbi.”
“Good,” Rochelle said. “That’s what I thought.”
“I actually think Iris will be the easiest one on my list.”
“Why’s that?” Rochelle asked. “She has such a unique style—actually rather overdone at times.”
Savannah grinned. “I know. So I’ll pick out something I probably would never wear myself and it should be perfect for Iris.”
“Hmmm,” Rochelle muttered, trying to digest that statement. “I’ll be eager to see what you pick out for her.” She raised one eyebrow. “It’ll be telling, won’t it?”
“Oh…I mean…” Savannah said trying to backpedal. “I didn’t mean…” She winced.
“Rochelle, aren’t you going to h
elp me take my foot out of my mouth?”
Rochelle shook her head. “Nope.” She challenged, “Go ahead; pick out a gift for Iris. I dare you.” She laughed. “I’m just giving you a bad time, Savannah. Certainly not every piece of any jewelry line or clothing line is right for every person. I get that. I try to make jewelry for everyone, whatever their taste or style or lack of style.” She picked up a bold silver necklace with several large round pendants dangling from it. “With the right top—either scoop neck or high neck, this could be a smashing accessory.”
“Wow!” Savannah said, examining the necklace. “I’m not sure this would work for Iris.”
“Why not?” Rochelle asked.
Savannah grinned. “Because I kind of like it.”
Rochelle slapped playfully at her friend and they both laughed.
“You’ve been busy,” Savannah said upon viewing Rochelle’s array of jewelry. “You have quite a number of pieces.” She added, “It’s really beautiful. It’ll be hard to choose.”
“That’s why I held back a few pieces for you to look at.” Rochelle enticed, “Want to see them?”
“Sure do.”
Once in the private office, Rochelle pulled a necklace from a pouch and draped it over one hand. “Now this I picked out as a possibility for your mom.” She laid out an ornate cuff bracelet. “I can see this on your sister.” When she revealed a third piece, she explained, “I think this choker or maybe these earrings are more your aunt’s style.”
Savannah stood stunned for a moment, studying each piece of the jewelry. “This is pretty amazing.”
“What?” Rochelle asked.
“The choices you’ve made are so right on.”
“It’s my profession,” Rochelle said, “and my calling.”
“Your calling?” Savannah questioned.
“Well yes, you know my intuitive work—what you call that ‘woo-woo stuff’.”
Savannah felt herself blush. “Of course. What a perfect business for you to be in with your…um…gift.”
Rochelle nodded. “It’s proving out to be. So what do you think?”
“I think,” Savannah said, studying the jewelry Rochelle had chosen, “that I’ll take this one for Mom, the earrings for Auntie, and the dear bracelet you showed me for Bri.”
“Not the choker?”
Savannah grinned. “No. That one I’m buying for myself.”
Rochelle laughed. “Good choice.”
“And for Colbi, I can see her wearing that sweet pair of earrings I saw out front. She wears a lot of silver and that filigree design is really pretty. Now for Iris—let me look at that multi-pendant necklace again.”
“Sure. Does she have something she can wear it with? This really should be a statement-making accessory. Can you think of a piece of clothing she has that would show it off?”
“Not offhand, but I could buy her a simple top in the right color with the right neckline.”
“You sure could,” Rochelle agreed.
“This is great,” Savannah said, scanning the pieces she’d selected. “My Christmas shopping is practically done.”
Rochelle smiled. She reached for a variety of small boxes and placed them on the desktop. “Want to help me package these things up?”
“Shouldn’t I pay for them first?” Savannah quipped.
“We’ll get around to that. Don’t worry.”
◆◆◆
“I love my purchases,” Savannah said later as the two women walked out of the Whitcombs’ studio.
Rochelle looped her arm in Savannah’s. “I’m glad.” Suddenly, she stopped.
“What’s wrong?” Savannah asked, looking in the direction her friend gazed. “What did you see?”
“It was the weirdest thing,” Rochelle said, her eyes wide.
“What?” Savannah asked.
“Well, I thought for a moment that I saw my little brother.”
“Your little brother?”
Rochelle nodded. She looked off into the distance. “He died when he was eight—a car accident. I was twelve. I dream about Stevie every once in a while.” She took a ragged breath. “I loved him so much.” She turned to Savannah. “Just then, I thought I saw him. I don’t know if it was a figment of my imagination, a real little boy who darted out of sight around that corner, or if it was Stevie’s spirit visiting me. I’ve never had him visit in broad daylight like this.”
“Did he look like your brother? I mean, the facial features?”
“I’m not sure. It all happened so fast, but the minute I caught a glimpse of him I thought of Stevie as if I were looking at him.” She shook her head. “Wow! That was a trip.” Rochelle relaxed a little, saying, “Hey, it was probably one of our street urchins.” When she saw the puzzled look on Savannah’s face, she said, “I don’t imagine you have them in Hammond, do you? I mean street urchins.”
Savannah shook her head. “I don’t think so. Are you referring to children who live on their own without adult supervision?”
“Some of them have parents and others are kind of taken in by benevolent homeless men and women. Those children are what’s considered free-range, as you can imagine. We see them around here fairly often.” She shook her head. “But I’ve never had an experience like that one before. That was just weird—emotional, even.” She looked in the direction she’d seen the child go. Thinking out loud, she muttered, “That might have actually been Simon, but why such a strong message? What does it mean?”
“Simon?” Savannah questioned.
“Yes. He’s a wonderful little boy who often comes around the studio. He loves to look at Peter’s art. He sometimes sits for hours studying the paintings, and he asks a lot of questions. Peter gave him some paints and a sketch pad once. He was thrilled.”
“Did he paint something?”
Rochelle nodded. “Yes. The kid seems to have talent, and Peter encourages it.” She winced. “Yeah, that may have been Simon that I saw, but for a split second, he sure looked like Stevie.” She took a breath and the two women slipped into the car. Before turning the key in the ignition, Rochelle looked at Savannah. “I have the strongest sense that there was a message in that sighting.”
“Really?” Savannah managed, not knowing what else to say.
“Yes,” Rochelle said. “I sense that was not an accident. Savannah, I believe Stevie just brought me a sign of something to come.”
“What?” Savannah asked, wide-eyed.
Rochelle said in earnest. “I haven’t the slightest idea.” When she saw the look on Savannah’s face, she added with enthusiasm, “But I will be in the know relatively soon, I’m pretty sure of that.” She started the car. “Hey, we’ll talk about this later, perhaps, when I have more information—you know, from the universe. But now, let’s go get something to eat, shall we?”
“Sure,” Savannah agreed.
“We’ll go out to what we call East Point. There are a couple of shops I think you’ll enjoy visiting, then I want to share one of our most delightful eateries with you. The food’s wonderful. It’s what I call healthy comfort food.”
“Sounds intriguing,” Savannah said.
◆◆◆
The two women did a little shopping, then walked into the restaurant, where they were seated immediately. After placing their order, Savannah asked, “What are you looking at over there? Do you see someone you know?” She gazed in the same direction. “Is it that little boy you saw earlier?”
Rochelle shook her head. “No little boys, but…”
“What?” Savannah asked.
“I’m not sure.” When Savannah gave her a questioning look, Rochelle leaned forward and spoke more quietly. “Actually, that woman looks like someone I used to know.” She shook her head. “But it can’t be her. Last I heard she moved to Mexico. What would she be doing here?” She glanced one more time at the woman. “No, I don’t think that’s her, and frankly, I hope it’s not.” Before Savannah could question her, Rochelle said, “Hey, here comes our lunch. L
et’s eat, shall we?”
“Sounds good,” Savannah agreed. “Looks good, too.”
“Aren’t you hungry?” Rochelle asked a few minutes later.
“Yeah.” Savannah leaned toward her. “You know that gal you thought you knew—I think she’s the one we saw sneaking around that old building.”
“Really?” Rochelle frowned. “I thought she was dressed in brown or tan—some sort of non-color—and we certainly couldn’t see her face under that big hat she wore.”
