One Woman's Junk

by J. B. Lynn

  Amanda put the dog down on the floor, and they all watched as the dog ran up to Harmony, jumped up so that its paws landed just below the woman’s knee, and barked excitedly.

  “He might be hungry,” Harmony suggested. “Have you fed him?”

  Winnie picked up a muffin off the tray, tore a piece off, and tossed it to the mutt, who gobbled it up greedily.

  Harmony glanced down at Beatrice. “If you want to talk any more, I’m just a few doors down…” With that, she sidled out of the store, taking care to give Amanda a wide berth.

  “Talk about what?” Amanda looked at Beatrice with suspicion.

  Unsure whether she wanted to confide in her sisters, Beatrice just shrugged.

  20

  Seeing her two sisters watching her expectantly, Beatrice blurted out the other thought she had. “Do you guys really believe that what happened to Letty was an accident?”

  She wasn’t sure what she expected their reactions to be, but she certainly wasn’t expecting what she got.

  Winnie stared at her as though she’d lost her mind. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m just saying,” Beatrice said carefully, “Ash took me to that Red Bug Slough nature preserve yesterday, and it really wasn’t Letty’s kind of scene.”

  “So what are you saying?” Winnie pushed.

  “I’m saying, are we sure there wasn’t any foul play involved?”

  Amanda gasped. She looked so pale that Beatrice was worried her older sister would collapse.

  “Breathe, Amanda,” she urged.

  Winnie rushed to Amanda’s side and grabbed her elbow. “Don’t you dare pass out,” Winnie ordered. “I’m not taking care of two invalids.”

  “I’m not an invalid,” Beatrice said hotly.

  Winnie ran her gaze over Beatrice’s semi-handicapped form. “Well, you’re sure not self-sufficient.”

  “Oh sure,” Beatrice snapped. “That’s what you always like to say about me. I’m not self-sufficient. I’m not responsible. I can’t take care of myself.”

  “Stop!” Amanda gasped.

  Chastised, Beatrice looked away, fiddling with her ring.

  Winnie led Amanda to the nearest seat and lowered her into the velvet chair.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you,” Beatrice murmured.

  “What did you mean by foul play?” Amanda asked.

  Beatrice glanced at her nervously and saw that Winnie was standing over her, scowling.

  “All I’m saying,” Beatrice said carefully. “All I’m saying is that I don’t think it makes sense that Letty was at that place.”

  “And what do you think happened to her?” Winnie asked, sarcasm dripping from every syllable.

  Beatrice shrugged. “I don’t know. All I know is that she wasn’t happy there.”

  “And how would you know that?” Winnie asked incredulously.

  Beatrice stared down at her ring, tempted to tell her sisters about the vision she’d had, but she didn’t want to open herself up to more derision from Winnie.

  “But what if she’s right?” Amanda asked softly.

  Winnie frowned at her. “You’re not buying into her paranoia, are you?”

  Amanda shook her head slowly. “Maybe she’s right.” She played with one of her earrings. “We all know Letty was a beach person. If she wasn’t shopping, she was at the sand. It doesn’t make sense that she was in a place like this nature preserve where she was found.”

  Beatrice wasn’t sure if she was relieved that Amanda was open to the idea or dismayed.

  “She never regained consciousness,” Amanda said softly. “I held her hand while she lay in that hospital bed, and she never opened her eyes. She never said anything.”

  Winnie placed a comforting hand on her sister’s shoulder. “I’m sure she sensed you were there.”

  Amanda shook her head. “Maybe I should have asked questions,” Amanda said. “I was in such a rush to get here from New York.” She trailed off for a second, as if remembering her race to get from upstate New York to Southwest Florida. “I didn’t think to ask what had happened to her, beyond what I was told. If somebody did this to her…” She trailed off again, dismay filling her tone.

  “We all know that Beatrice has an overactive imagination,” Winnie said.

  Beatrice winced at the old insult.

  “That doesn’t mean she’s wrong,” Amanda argued. “I mean, who trips and dies?”

  Bea looked from one sister to the other as the full impact of what they were suggesting sunk in.

  Winnie shook her head, silently denying the possibility, but Amanda was grudgingly nodding.

  The bell over the door jangled, and the door almost bounced off its hinges as a woman in her late twenties burst in, hands on hips, jaw tight, eyes flashing. “I want my money.”

  The sisters stared at the newcomer.

  “And you are?” Winnie asked, being the first to recover.

  “Don’t pretend you don’t know who I am,” the woman raged.

  Winnie looked back at her sisters, who both shrugged, unsure of what was going on. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” Winnie began. “I—”

  “Don’t you dare call me ma’am,” the woman screeched. “Do I look like a ma’am to you?”

  “Tell her she looks like a temper-tantruming toddler,“ Pim urged from where Bea had left him perched on the bookshelf.

  As the woman’s tone grew more strident, Amanda slowly got to her feet and went to stand next to Winnie. Bea admired the way she stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Winnie and she knew that Letty would have approved of the united front.

  “We don’t know who you are,” Amanda said firmly. “If you tell us—”

  “I shouldn’t have to tell you. I should have my money,” the woman insisted.

  Beatrice fought the urge to chuckle at how ridiculous the whole situation was.

  “I’m Beth Friggate,” the woman finally explained. “Your mother owed me money.”

  “Godmother,” Amanda corrected automatically.

  “I don’t care. She owed me money, now you owe me money.”

  “For what?” Winnie asked.

  “I brought in the little piggies birdbath and it’s not in the window anymore. That means she sold it. That means that you owe me money.”

  “I can look up the records,” Winnie offered. She moved to the computer near the cash register. “What did you say your last name was again?”

  “Friggate,” Beth yelled. “Are you deaf as well as dumb?”

  Winnie stopped in her tracks and stared at the woman. “I’m not going to help you if you continue to yell at me,” she said calmly.

  The woman glared at her, crossed her arms over her chest, stamped her foot, but remained silent besides that.

  The bell over the door jangled again, and Beatrice really didn’t want to see who was walking in. Would it be another problem, or was someone coming to save them?

  21

  Greta strolled into the store, unaware of the chaos she was stepping into.

  “Tell them!” Beth demanded.

  Greta pasted on a fake smile. “Good morning, Beth.”

  “Tell them they owe me money,” Beth demanded.

  “For the birdbath?” Greta asked, calmly moving past the irate woman. She offered each of the sisters a smile as a greeting. Beatrice admired the fact she seemed to be undisturbed by the other woman’s grating manner.

  “Yes.” Beth advanced on Greta.

  The other woman held her ground. “It sold,” she confirmed. “For exactly what Letty expected to sell it for.”

  Beth screwed up her face, a mixture of anger and disappointment warring for control. “It was worth more than that.”

  Greta shrugged. “You could have taken it to someone else to sell.” She reached over Winnie’s shoulder and flicked through the computer screens with expertise. “Here it is.” She spun the monitor so that Beth could see the amount the item sold for.

  “So she gets fifty-six dollars,” G
reta explained. “You’ll have to cut her a check.”

  Winnie frowned. “I don’t think I have authorization to cut her a check.”

  “I need my money!” Beth screamed.

  “Okay, okay,” Winnie said.

  Beatrice could tell from her strained tone that her sister was desperate to get the other woman out of the store.

  “If you don’t pay me, I’m going to go to the news,” Beth threatened. “Last time, you may have gotten good publicity from being on TV, but not this time.”

  Beatrice rolled her eyes. She was not impressed with the histrionics.

  “Why don’t you just take a breath,” Beatrice said.

  Everyone in the store turned to look at her.

  “Everyone take a breath,” Beatrice said. “We’ll get this sorted out.”

  Beth opened her mouth to retort, then slammed it shut when Beatrice gave her a hard look.

  “I can see what’s in the cash register drawer,” Greta suggested.

  “Yes,” Winnie practically begged. “Please do that.”

  Greta opened the draw and counted out the money that was owed to Beth.

  She handed it over to the other woman, who snatched it out of her hand greedily.

  “Don’t forget to sign your payment receipt,” Greta said with a smile so sweet, Bea was surprised it didn’t crack her cheeks.

  Beth scribbled on the proffered pad.

  “Thank you,” Greta said.

  “I’m going to remember the way you did business,” Beth sneered.

  “Please do,” Greta said with a saccharinely sweet smile. “You received your payment in a timely manner.”

  “After throwing a temper tantrum,” Beatrice added.

  Again, every eye in the room swiveled toward her. She sat up straighter in her wheelchair. “We won’t be doing business with you again,” she said defiantly.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Greta crack a genuine smile.

  Amanda nodded her approval.

  “Please leave,” Beatrice ordered.

  Beth wadded her money up, stuck it in her pocket, and shuffled out of the store without so much as a backward glance.

  “Well,” Greta said after the door had swung shut behind her. “I can see things have gotten off to a good start here this morning.”

  Beatrice chuckled.

  Amanda shook her head and retreated up the stairs to the living quarters.

  Winnie frowned. “Are all of the customers like that?”

  “Most aren’t,” Greta assured her. “Letty had had problems with her in the past. Most of the consignment stores in the area have; nobody will believe anything she says about you guys, don’t worry about it.”

  Winnie nodded.

  The dog barked at her.

  “I think he has to go out,” Beatrice suggested.

  “I never said I was taking a dog,” Winnie complained, but like Amanda had the day before, she looped a belt through the dog’s collar and led him outside, but not before first snatching up her sketch pad.

  Beatrice slumped in her chair, tired from both the confrontation with Beth and trying to convince her sisters that something might have befallen their godmother.

  “You okay?” Greta asked.

  “I’m fine,” Beatrice told her with a weak smile. “Sleeping on a cot isn’t the most comfortable thing.”

  Greta winced sympathetically. “I can only imagine. I’ll get started.” She turned away and started bustling around the shop doing whatever her set-up routine was.

  Beatrice rolled her way back to her temporary living quarters and picked up the denim purse. She slipped her hand inside and felt the leather of the stolen bag.

  “It doesn’t add up,” Pim whispered.

  She didn’t know why he whispered; it wasn’t like anybody else could hear him.

  She explored the interior of the stolen bag with her fingers, unwilling to take it out to examine it, in fear that Greta would see it.

  She felt something small and hard in one of the interior pockets.

  She pulled it out. And stared at it. She dimly remembered these. It was a memory card. She wondered if it was from the camera that she’d seen Letty using at Red Bug Slough.

  Instinctively, she decided to hide it in a separate place than the stolen purse. She quickly stuffed the memory card inside the pillowcase where the jersey that she’d glommed onto the day before was also hidden.

  22

  Winnie hesitated outside of PerC Up. She’d walked the dog, but wasn’t yet ready to return to One Woman’s Junk. She eyed one of the outdoor tables, wondering if it would be against city ordinances to tie the mutt to a chair while she ran inside to buy a cup of coffee.

  Piper, who was behind the counter, in the shop, looked up and noticed her. She smiled and held up one finger.

  Winnie nodded and took a seat. To escape the sun, the dog planted himself beneath the table, curling around her ankles, effectively trapping her.

  She took out her pad, flipped it open to a blank page, and began to draw. It had been a long time since she’d sketched so regularly and she was surprised how easily it had come back to her. A lifetime ago, she’d thought she’d become an artist, but after trying her hand at a couple of art classes in college, her dream had been dashed.

  Unlike Bea, who had never seemed to care about the concerns of grown-ups, even when she ostensibly become one, Winnie had made the responsible choice. She’d given up drawing and poured her creative energy into advertising, where she’d been able to carve out a career for herself.

  But that dream, like being an artist, was now nothing more than dust.

  She gripped her pencil harder, grinding the lead into the paper until the point snapped off. Ripping a hole in the middle of the eye of the teenage boy she’d been drawing.

  Hearing whispering coming from behind her, she turned to see who was talking. But there was nobody there except for the brightly painted wooden mermaids that flanked Harmony’s Sea, Sand and Psychics.

  Piper emerged from the coffee shop, carrying two steaming cups of coffee. She put one in front of Winnie and held the other as she settled into the seat opposite her. Digging into her apron pocket, she pulled out an oatmeal cookie and tossed it to the dog.

  Winnie raised her eyebrows.

  “It fell on the floor before,” Piper explained. “I didn’t think it should go to waste.”

  Winnie picked up her cup and sipped.

  “Rough day?” Piper asked.

  “They’ve all been rough days lately,” Winnie found herself admitting.

  “I know that feeling.” She glanced at her shop, worry lines erupting across her forehead.

  Winnie hesitated, not wanting to be intrusive but sensing the other woman wanted to talk about what was bothering her. “You’re worried about losing your business?”

  Piper nodded.

  “Do you mind my asking, why?” Winnie asked carefully. “I mean, I don’t mean to overstep, but the place always seems busy.”

  “We are. We should be doing better than we are…”

  “But?” Winnie prompted.

  Piper pursed her lips and stared into the distance.

  Winnie waited patiently.

  “Someone embezzled from me,” Piper admitted grudgingly, tracing the rim of her cup with her finger.

  Without thinking, Winnie reached out and patted her hand, realizing as she did it that it was just the kind of thing Letty would have done in the situation. “I understand.”

  Piper offered her a weak smile. “That’s nice of you to say, but Letty told me all about how successful you are with your business. She was very proud of you.”

  Winnie picked up her cup with both hands and took a deep sip before admitting, “My partners stole my accounts and took everything I’d built right out from under me.”

  Piper leaned back in her seat, stunned by the admission. Finally, she managed to splutter, “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too.” Winnie shrugged. “But Letty alwa
ys said, ‘Even things that seem unfair, are part of the Universe’s plan’. I’m trying to remember that.”

  Piper nodded. “She always told me, ‘Life can be unfair, but complaining about it only makes things worse’.”

  Winnie smiled, her heart warmed by the fondness she heard in the voice of the woman across from her, as she spoke about her godmother.

  “So I guess my complaining about how hard it is to keep PerC Up going is a waste of time,” Piper continued.

  “I don’t know about that,” Winnie replied. “Letty also said, ‘Sometimes venting to a friend clears the path to finding a solution’.”

  Piper beamed. “Then let’s vent.”

  23

  Amanda glanced over at Greta and Beatrice, who were both fussing with merchandise before the store filled with customers.

  Rupert lounged by the velvet chair and waved at her. She shook her head, trying to wish him away. She looked back, but he was still there. She closed her eyes, squeezing them so tightly that they ached, and wished with all her might that he’d go away.

  She opened her eyes and looked at the velvet chair again. Rupert was not there.

  “Are you okay?” Rupert asked from just behind her.

  Startled, Amanda let out a yelp.

  Beatrice and Greta glanced over at her.

  “Everything okay?” Beatrice asked.

  Amanda nodded. “If you guys think you can handle this, I’m going to go for a walk. I need some fresh air.”

  Greta gave her a thumbs up and Beatrice nodded. “We’ve got this,” Beatrice assured her.

  Without glancing back at Rupert, Amanda hurried out of the shop and down the street.

  Rupert fell into step beside her.

  “You’re not real,” Amanda said fervently. “Ghosts don’t exist.”

  “And yet, here I am,” Rupert challenged.

  Amanda shook her head. “I’m under a tremendous amount of stress and I’m imagining things.”

  “What are you stressed about?” Rupert asked curiously.

  Amanda glanced at him. “Well, my godmother just died. We have to figure out what to do with her shop. My youngest sister is on a self-destructive course that’s landed her in a wheelchair, and I’m seeing things.”