A Pocketful of Stardust

by J P Barnaby

  Chapter Eleven

  UNCLE JAMES was waiting when Noah arrived at the restaurant on Thursday morning, one of the newer ones that had popped up around the edges of the historic district. It was what Noah and his dad had called a “tablecloth” restaurant, as opposed to the barbeque and burger places they used to hang out at. The table was right by the window, with a view of the Victorian-era town hall and the town square.

  The waiter showed him to the table, then took drink orders and headed off. “You ever been here before?” James asked.

  Noah looked up from the menu. “No. A little outside of my price range.”

  “It’s not bad. I’m sure you’ve eaten at nicer places up north. New York’s got a reputation for good food.”

  “Maybe, but aside from pizza and shawarma, it doesn’t have anything more than Aster—or at least Atlanta.”

  “What the hell is shawarma?”

  “It’s kind of like gyros, but different.”

  James snorted. “We have gyros and pizza here, son.”

  “No, not really.” Noah grinned. “Trust me on this, Uncle James.”

  His uncle laughed. “Charlie used to say that when we were kids—‘trust me on this’—and you could. You could trust him to know just about anything. Everyone was so in awe of him ’cause he was so smart. We all thought he’d go off to some fancy college and never come back. It was strange to see him cooped up all his life in that bookstore.”

  “That bookstore was his life,” Noah pointed out. “He loved it.”

  “Oh, I know, I know. The steak here is pretty good. Order whatever you want.”

  Noah glanced at the menu again. “How’s the crab cake Benedict?”

  “Eggs are for breakfast, son.”

  Noah chuckled. “I like breakfast. I think I’ll try that.”

  “Suit yourself.” When the waiter came back with their drinks, Noah noted that James ordered the steak, but the waiter nodded approvingly when Noah ordered the crab cake Benedict. “It’s really good,” the waiter murmured with a wink.

  When he’d disappeared again, James was watching Noah with a thoughtful expression. “That boy bothering you?”

  “What? No! He just said the Benedict is good.”

  “I didn’t care for the way he looked at you.”

  “Really?” Noah bit back an irritated snort. “’Cause I think it was nice. Uncle James, you know I’m gay. You’ve known for years.”

  “Yeah, well, I’d kind of hoped you’d gotten over it by now.”

  “Really?”

  James laughed. “Oh, don’t be so sensitive, boy. I love you in spite of it, but I don’t pussyfoot around when I’m talking, you know that. I don’t mean nothing by it. So. How’s it going with the store?”

  “It’s going.” Noah sighed. “I haven’t quite decided what to do yet. I need to do an inventory of the stock, there’s loans against the house and the store, and I can’t sell the house until it goes through probate.”

  “What about the store?”

  “Dad incorporated the business, so that’s not included in the probate, though the building and the corporation stock are. It’s more complicated than that, but right now I pretty much don’t know what I can do with it or what to do about the loans. As it is, I’ll need to get it open again, because I can’t sell anything if the store’s closed, right?”

  “Too right, son. Tell me about the loans.”

  Noah explained about the two different mortgages while they waited for their lunch to arrive. James’s questions showed he had been listening closely, and some of the comments he made had made Noah feel like he’d really been interested in helping. Then the meal came, and they were quiet while they ate.

  Over dessert—which Noah really hadn’t wanted but Uncle James had insisted on—James said, “That’s prime real estate, the shop, you know. Right smack-dab in the heart of the historic district. I’d have a half dozen interested parties before I even finished writing up the listing. Even if you can’t sell immediately, I could probably work out an advance against a sale, if we can get at least a contract. Since you’re kin. That would free up the mortgage on the building at least. You’d have to talk to that lawyer of yours about it, but I think then the proceeds from the sale could go into a trust representing the stockholders until after probate’s done. I don’t know for sure, but he would.”

  “Fact is, I don’t know if I want to sell,” Noah said morosely. “I mean, I do, but I don’t. It’s like home to me, even more than the house, and it was Dad’s. I already have about four thousand from his life insurance and some first editions we sold.”

  “Noah, son, you got to give up on that sentimentality. Do you really want to be stuck in Bumfuck, Georgia, the rest of your life?”

  “You have.”

  James laughed. “Yeah, but I have a really good business here. And with all the new subdivisions goin’ up around here, I’m only gonna get richer. In fact, I’ve got property rights for a new strip mall on the north side of town where the old Barker farm used to be. I just need the damn Merchants Council to get their thumbs out of their asses and approve the zoning.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Never mind all that. Look, you’re family.” He leaned forward across the table, his expression intent. “I will be willing to buy the business—lock, stock, and barrel—for a cool three hundred K. That’ll not only take care of the mortgages, it’ll pay off those school loans you’ve had hanging over your head for so long. Yeah, don’t look surprised—your dad told me about them. He was worried about those.”

  Three hundred thousand? Noah could barely breathe. It would take care of all his debt, and, carefully marshalled, would be a cushion against catastrophe the rest of his life.

  He could even take time off to write his book….

  He opened his mouth to say yes, but what came out was “Thanks, Uncle James. I’ll think about it.”

  “You do that. Like I said, I could have a new tenant in there in no time.”

  Noah frowned. “You wouldn’t keep it a bookstore?”

  “Good gravy, son! What do we need with a bookstore in Aster?”

  Aster wouldn’t be Aster without the Stardust. But it shouldn’t matter, should it? His life was in New York, not Bumfuck, Georgia. “What would you do with the books?”

  James waved a pudgy hand again. “Whatever. You could take what you want. The rest could be recycled. It’s the store I want, not the books. Hell, for that amount of money, you could go online and sell there. It’s a way cheaper proposition these days.”

  “True.” Noah tried for a smile, and it seemed to placate James, who said, “You go ahead and think about it, Noah. But don’t take too long. I didn’t get where I was by lollygaggin’.”

  “Sure, Uncle James.”

  NOAH WALKED slowly back to the historic district, deep in thought. True, he had been focused on dealing with the store so he could get home to New York, but he’d had a vague idea of the bookstore just continuing to go on, maybe under new management. But James had hit him right in the chops with reality. Yeah, if it weren’t for the mortgages, the store would do okay with the current interest in antiques and tchotchkes, but how long would that go on? He could move the business online, keep it going that way. Sure, he’d have to find a way to warehouse the books and to weed out the really valuable ones, but it was doable. Especially with a couple hundred grand to work with….

  He needed to talk to someone. Maybe he’d call Yeira when he got home. She’d have a fresh, uninvested perspective.

  Someone was lurking around the door of the shop—no, not someone, something. As Noah came down the sidewalk, he realized it was a large shuck of cornstalk set against the storefront. As he watched, a slender, fussily dressed man came out of the antique store across the street, a huge basket in his arms. He set down the basket and pulled out a couple of pumpkins, setting them at the base of the vegetation, then began wiring Indian corn to the top. “Thad?” Noah said as he approached.

  The little anti
que gallery owner jumped in shock. “Oh! Noah! You scared the bejeebers out of me!” His beringed hand fluttered at his chest. “Give a girl a little warning next time!”

  Noah laughed. “What are you doing?”

  “Well, decorating for Halloween, of course! Charlie always waited until the last minute, and, well, he didn’t get to it before….” Thad’s face screwed up in genuine grief a moment; then he visibly collected himself. “So I reckoned you wouldn’t have had any time to get something up, and I had these things left over from my own decorating.” He withdrew a length of burlap ribbon crafted into a huge bow, with silk sunflowers. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”

  “Gorgeous,” Noah agreed.

  Thad hummed approval and turned to wire the burlap onto the arrangement. Noah watched him a moment, smiling despite himself. The gallery owner had been part of his childhood as much as Ananda at Mystic Crystals, the shop next door, and Miss Edna and Fred the postman. He was the first gay man Noah had ever known. In fact, it had created a lot of confusion—Noah had been pretty sure he was gay his whole life but had never felt the slightest compulsion to behave at all like Thad. His dad had had to take him aside and explain that there were as many types of gay people as there were straight, and that some were a little more demonstrative, like Thad. He’d also warned Noah that there were bad gay men too, and to always be careful when meeting new people.

  “This is really nice of you, Thad.”

  “Oh, sweetheart, it’s no problem. We’re family.”

  “We are.” Noah put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Speaking of being close, that young redhead you’ve got coming in every other day is adorable.” Thad wiggled his eyebrows like a fiend, and Noah laughed.

  “Kyle? Yeah, he is. I really like him and he really likes me, I think.”

  “What are you waiting for, then?”

  “There’s something about him. He’s hiding something.” Noah pushed a piece of the straw around the sidewalk with his foot.

  “Aren’t we all?”

  “That’s fair. Maybe I’ll ask him out after work one night.”

  “Don’t let it pass you by, or you’re going to be a lonely old queen like me one day.”

  “You’re not old,” Noah said.

  “Oh bless your little heart. You go on about your business now, and I’ll clean up when I’m done.” Thad gave him a half hug and went back to his décor.

  “Come on over sometime and we’ll have some tea.”

  “Of course!”

  Noah unlocked the door, deactivated the alarm, and went into the store. Family. Yeah. He’d known most of the people on this block his entire life, and those he hadn’t—the art gallery woman; Rosalie who owned Pots and Posies, the upscale indoor gardeners’ store on the other side of his storefront from Ananda’s; the yarn shop lady with the cute dog; Hiram who owned the old-fashioned stationery place—they had become friends with Charlie, and through Charlie, Noah. He wondered who Uncle James would sell the store to, and would they fit in with everyone here.

  “Lunch that bad?”

  Noah glanced up at Henry, who was sitting atop the sliding ladder that let customers look at the upper shelves. “No, pretty good actually. Uncle James had some ideas about this place. Henry, when did you open the bookstore?”

  Henry pursed his lips. “Hm. I think I told you it was maman’s dress shop first—she had that as long as I can remember, and I was born in 1904…. I took it over after maman retired in thirty-three. Times were pretty hard then, and not too many people were buying nice dresses. We weren’t big on banks at the time, so we still had some cash, and Daddy’s farm was doing okay, so she decided to give up the shop and let me take over. Of course, I wasn’t good about dressmaking.” Henry grinned. “All thumbs. Anyway, Renee and Berenice and I moved into the apartment upstairs, and I turned it into a bookstore. People needed books to keep them from thinking how lousy their lives were. Aster was too small a place for a movie palace then, so the only escape was books. So yeah, 1933.”

  “Wow. That’s like almost ninety years.”

  “Almost. Berenice grew up here, just like you.”

  “I hope to meet her someday.”

  “I hope you do too. I’d love to see her one last time.”

  Noah sank down on the barstool behind the counter. “Uncle James wants me to sell the store.” He didn’t look at Henry.

  After a moment Henry said gently, “That’s an option.”

  “I know. I kind of thought I wanted to too. But I don’t know. And there’s my job and Karen….”

  “Well, child, you don’t have to make the decision this moment. Best you sleep on it.”

  “I have too much to do.”

  “It’ll keep, Noah. Go home, have a nap. See how you feel later. I always felt better after a nap.”

  A nap. Noah was suddenly tired, down to his soul. “Yeah. Maybe. It’s an idea.”

  “A good one. Go on, then. Git.”

  Noah got.

  Chapter Twelve

  NOAH FLIPPED the sign on the bookstore door over to Open and turned on the lights. It was probably stupid to open for just a few hours, and on a Saturday, no less, but the store’d been closed for over a week, and even if he was going to end up selling it, he needed to be doing something. There probably wouldn’t be much in the way of business, but Saturdays had always been a good day, especially nice fall Saturdays—there was always a good number of tourists from the Atlanta area stopping to shop the antique stores and gift shops here on Sycamore. It was only nine thirty, and most of the stores opened at ten, but he was here, and he was ready.

  More or less. While he’d often manned the store alone when he was in high school and Charlie had auctions or sales to attend, it was definitely weird to be in charge and solely responsible for the place. He was kind of nauseated. How could he manage this alone? He sat on the stool and put his forehead on the cool counter.

  “It’ll be fine,” Henry said.

  Well, not really alone.

  He picked up the glass of tea from the coaster Charlie had always used and toasted the air. “To Dad, to Henry, and to the Stardust.”

  “Amen and hallelujah,” Henry agreed, toasting back with a ghostly coffee cup. Noah didn’t even ask where that had come from.

  “Speaking of coffees and teas, I called the company where that stuff”—he nodded toward the crated equipment sitting off the main room—“came from. Seems I can return the supplies, but the actual machines can’t go back.”

  “Are they defective?” Henry took another sip.

  “No, they were on clearance. They said my dad got them for a steal.” Noah made air quotes around that word and snorted. “The total start-up invoice is a little over ten grand. I’d say that wasn’t much of a bargain.”

  “Do you know anything about coffee machines?”

  “Well, no, but Kyle does.”

  “Then you don’t know if it was a bargain or not,” Henry reasoned.

  “You’re right, but how was he going to get this stuff set up and working? My dad didn’t know anything about commercial coffee machines. He couldn’t even work the Keurig.”

  Henry was about to reply when the wind chimes over the door jingled and his next-store neighbor wafted in on a wave of sage and patchouli. “Hi, Ananda.”

  “Hello, darling! I just wanted to stop by and see how you were doing today. Is all well?”

  “As can be expected. What can I do for you?”

  “For me? Nothing. It’s what I can do for you!”

  “What the devil is she wearing?” Henry demanded.

  Noah looked at her critically. She had on her usual flowing cotton caftan in muted rainbow designs, her artificially scarlet curls done up in a purple silk scarf. Nothing unusual in that—she’d run Mystic Crystals for as long as Noah had been alive, and he couldn’t remember her looking any other way. She’d even worn a silk caftan to Charlie’s funeral—in white and lavender, to remind him that Charlie had gone on to a better place
or nirvana or satori or some such thing.

  “I know that it’s going to be difficult, and I thought perhaps a cleansing would be a good way for you to start the business back up again.” She held up the bronze bowl she carried. A thin stream of smoke wafted from it. “I’m going to smudge the place for you to remove all evil influences.”

  “Holy mother of pearl,” Henry said, then sneezed.

  She ran a metal rod around the edge of the bowl, creating a low, musical tone, then lifted the sage stick from the bowl. Chanting something not English in a soft voice, she waved the stick as she swayed around the store.

  Henry sneezed again. And again.

  “I can feel the impact on the spirits,” Ananda chanted. “Flee, evil ones! Bother this place no more!”

  “Noah!”

  “Um, Ananda? Can you stop?”

  She did. She’d made it as far as the children’s section. “Yes, sweetie?”

  “I think the evil spirits got the message, and your sage is messing with the good ones.”

  She glanced around the store, smiling complacently. “Yes, I don’t sense the evil spirits any longer, and we don’t want to chase out Charlie’s influence. Just let me know if you need me to come back.”

  “I sure will.”

  “And don’t forget to stop by later and have your chakras aligned.”

  “Sure thing.”

  “Then if you don’t have any more need for me, I’d best go get ready to open up.” She gave Noah her biggest smile. “It’s so nice to have you back, Noah. Charlie would be so happy.”

  “Thanks, Ananda. See you later.”

  The door had barely closed behind her when Henry exploded. “Good God in heaven, Noah, what was that old hippie talkin’ about?”

  “She’s not a hippie. She’s a….” Noah struggled a moment. “Okay, she’s a hippie. But she means well. She’s a really kind lady.”

  “A kind lady with funky incense.” Henry waved a hand in front of his face. “Sweet baby Jesus, that stuff stinks.”

  “I’ll tell her next time not to use sage because my resident specter is allergic to it. She’ll just bring over a stack of healing crystals instead.”