Officer Blaze stood in the center of my living room. Staring at the empty space, the cardboard boxes, the battered card table, and the metal folding chair, she cracked a smile and said, “Love what you’ve done with the place.”
CHAPTER 28
~Cara~
By seven the next morning, I was up and dressed. Although I felt like I’d been hit by a truck and dragged down a dirt road, I was eager to get ready for our big VIP event. I took Jack out the front door, consciously avoiding those parking spaces behind Poppy’s gas station.
Jack did his thing and raced back to me. He was hungry for his kibble breakfast.
First order of business for me, after I had a cup of coffee, was mopping up fingerprint dust and picking up stray papers.
An hour into my straightening and cleaning, Skye joined me. We worked side-by-side to replace the lost photos. We also changed out “new” frames for those with broken glass. I thanked providence that I’d purchased extra frames when we’d gone on our initial buying spree.
MJ came in early, too. On her way to work, she had called someone who could fix our window and backdoor lock. “The new glass will be installed by two this afternoon. The repairman is going to change the back door lock. That’ll give us a couple hours before the event.”
I didn’t ask how she’d conjured up such efficient help. In addition to her five ex-husbands, she’s dated every man in town, giving her a huge network of contacts. I helped her sweep up the bits of glass scattered all over. Then she got down on her hands and knees to mop up the blood on the floor,
Sid and Honora wandered in at ten, as planned. They gawped at the mess.
“My, my,” said Honora, her eyes big as twin goldfish swimming behind her glasses.
"Someone went ham on this place," said Sid. Translation: Someone went nuts in here. He poured himself a big mug of coffee and added a packet of hot chocolate mix.
“What happened?” asked Honora.
“Someone broke in last night while we were at the concert,” said Skye, and she filled them in on last evening’s excitement.
"You have to be kidding,” said Sid.
“Anything taken?” Honora put her tea kettle on the burner.
“Maybe a few of the Old Florida Gallery Photos,” said Skye. “They might be in the trash. This place was a mess.”
“Wow,” said Sid. “We must be riding the crest of a crime wave. Did you hear they found that missing reporter? Kathy Simmons? She was found stuffed in the trunk of her Toyota. It must have been parked right behind our store. I can’t believe I missed all the excitement.”
MJ dumped a bucket of reddish water and Lysol into the sink. The air thickened with a nearly overpowering scent of pine. "Cara, Skye, and I know all about Kathy Simmons. We were there when they opened the trunk. But we couldn’t talk about it. Police orders."
"Sick," said Sid. Translation: Awesome.
"Wrong word, buddy," I said. "It's a tragedy. As a show of respect, we’re all going to wear a black ribbon pinned to our clothes. Here’re the keys to my car. I’d like for you to run out and buy the ribbon and safety pins, please."
“What a shame,” said Honora, watching Sid leave. She stirred sugar into her tea. “Kathy was a lovely young woman. Very ambitious.”
“You knew her?” I asked.
“Yes, indeed. She came to the house and interviewed both me and EveLynn about our work. Wrote two nice articles for national magazines. Did you know it’s very hard for freelancers to collect their money? It is, I guess. A real pity because she was definitely living on the edge of poverty. Now tell me what I can do to help get the store ready for tonight.”
When I opened the front door at our appointed hour, a steady stream of traffic flowed inside. Several customers mentioned that although they had scheduling conflicts, they would have liked to have joined us. As the afternoon wore on, more and more customers came in. In fact, Skye and MJ had to help me wait on people. We were busier than we’d ever been. In fact, I didn’t get a chance to sit down all day. Too much to do.
A dull ache started in my head. It was exacerbated by the rat-a-tat-tat of jackhammers across the alley. Peeking out our back door window, I saw three workers in orange tee shirts busily breaking up concrete. I popped a couple of Advil. The pills would help my head, but not the corresponding pain in my heart. Poppy’s gas station figured into my earliest childhood memories. Oh, how I had loved his old Coca Cola machine and the cold glass bottles. The tanks of shiners or minnows kept me entertained for hours. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I reminded myself that the new convenience store (complete with gas pumps and a garage) would provide more services and more jobs, including an opportunity for my grandfather to ply his trade as a mechanic.
Everything changes.
Right at two, a truck arrived with a huge sheet of glass. Three men worked to fix the front window. They installed a new lock on my back door in no time. Sid took my car again and got new keys made for all of us.
At four, I closed the store to give us an hour to change into nice clothes. Honora looked a bit tired, so at my suggestion, she snuggled up on my sofa.
Thirty minutes later, Honora opened her sleepy eyes and yawned.
“Nice nap?” I asked.
“Exactly what I needed,” she said.
“The bathroom is all yours,” I told her. “I’m going downstairs.”
Standing in my office, I took a few minutes to go through the day's mail. The bills went into my inbox, the solicitations into the trash, and the typed envelope addressed to me, I opened with a sense of dread.
Sure enough, it was a piece of "hate mail." The kind I'd been getting for nearly a month. After calling me all sorts of names, the sender suggested that I sell up and leave town.
I put the letter into the shredder, watching with satisfaction as the blades ripped it to pieces.
Honora walked past and stuck her head in. “Cup of tea, Cara, dear?”
That sounded great.
Sid came out of the downstairs restroom, looking quite presentable in his serving uniform of black pants, a skinny black tie, and freshly ironed white shirt. I ran back upstairs and loaned him one of my father’s tie tacks to keep his necktie out of the food. After pinning it on awkwardly, he asked, “What do you need me to do?”
“Fill the armoire,” I said.
“I can help,” said Honora. “Let me rinse out my cup.”
While they stocked the cupboard with bath crystals, foot scrubs, skin lotions, MJ and I finished the food prep and setting serving utensils on the table. Since we didn’t have to worry about customers overhearing, Honora and Sid took the opportunity to pepper me with more questions about the break in.
“You seriously can’t tell if they took anything?” asked Sid.
“No. If my computer had been out in the open, they might have tried to grab that.”
“Doubtful,” said Sid. “That hard drive is a relic. Who’d want it? It’s got a lot of memory, but it isn’t fast. And fast is where it’s at.”
“I wonder why they knocked pictures off the wall and took them out of the frames,” said Honora.
“I think I know what they took,” said Skye, coming out of the back room. In her hands was the box of extra photos. She’d used manila dividers to separate the photos into categories. “There isn’t a single photo of a person in this box. Not even one.”
Putting down the sprigs of parsley I’d been adding to the platter of cut-up veggies, I hurried over to look. “You’re kidding.”
“No, I am not. Of course, I don’t have time to go through everything. It’s possible they are there, but in the wrong spot.” Her troubled blue eyes met mine.
“That doesn’t make any sense,” said Sid.
“No,” I agreed. “It doesn’t.”
CHAPTER 29
~Cara~
EveLynn hauled a rolling cart with three large phaleanopsis orchids through our front door.
“I hope you don’t mind, Cara, dear.” Honora positio
ned the plants strategically in the middle of our serving tables.
“Of course not,” I said. The splashes of bright pink brightened up the shop considerably.
“EveLynn? Please put the cut glass punch bowls right here.” Honora, pointed to a spot on the serving tables. “You brought the champagne, didn’t you? And the raspberries?”
Turning to me, Honora explained, “I’ve decided to make some of my champagne punch.”
“Sounds wonderful,” I said. “Great idea about the cut glass bowls. They will look nicer than the plastic ones I’d planned on using. I appreciate your taking the initiative. Make sure to give me the receipts for the champagne so I can reimburse you.”
“Yes, well, MJ and Skye both told me that you were easy to get along with.” Honora clasped her hands to her chest and looked around, smiling. “I think I’m going to like it here.”
I helped EveLynn mix the punch. That took a little time, so I didn’t get the chance to call Lou and tell him about the missing photos. At the stroke of five, we opened the door to an endless stream of guests. A few asked about the black ribbons.
Captain Nathan Davidson showed up shortly after five thirty.
“How’re you doing, Cara?” asked Davidson. The steel gray of his eyes contrasted with the golden glow of his skin, a healthy tan. I remembered Lou telling me that Davidson liked to go sport fishing.
“I’ve been better. Between finding Kathy Simmons and the break in.”
“I understand, but the place looks great,” he said.
“Yes, we managed to get our act together quickly, all things considered.”
“I heard about you being there when Lou opened the car trunk. Sorry about that.”
“He suggested that I leave. I was being stubborn.”
“Not stubborn. Persistent. It’s one of your best qualities. Most people give up too quickly. You have the guts to stick to your guns. I like that,” he said.
The compliment caught me off-guard. Davidson had a reassuring quality about him. His eyes snapped with intelligence, but there was also a sense of coiled energy in them. Given my history with the cops, I should have felt nervous around him. But I didn’t.
“Thank you for coming,” I said. “I know you’re really busy.”
“My pleasure entirely. This is the highlight of my day.” To my surprise, he gave me a quick peck on the cheek before he wandered off to visit with other guests.
I was mingling when Lou arrived. Like his boss, he was wearing a gold name badge identifying him as part of our law enforcement community. The name badges had been a smart move. Not only was good public relations for them to attend local events, it would also serve as a visual reminder that the cops were keeping an eye on my business. With any luck, maybe my sister would back off and my burglar would stay away.
“Captain Davidson wants to buy a Highwaymen painting for his office,” MJ whispered to me. “There’s a decorating line item in the budget. He wants you to help him pick one.”
“Tell him that I’ll make him a good deal,” I said. “If he comes back when we aren’t busy, you and I can show him the entire inventory. Or you can. You know a lot more about them than I do.”
“I’ll let him know,” said MJ. “But I think he wanted your help specifically. Terrific turnout.”
“We can thank Kathy Simmons and her wonderful article for most of the warm bodies here.”
As soon as MJ walked off, Lou came over. “Thanks for inviting me. I wish I could stay longer, but…”
“Any luck tracking down the person who broke into my store?” I figured I’d get an update from Lou and then tell him my news.
“No, we have a partial palm print that we’re running through our data bases,” he leaned close and added, “We also checked with all the area emergency rooms, doctors, and care facilities, but no one came in needing a gash sewn up. Haven’t seen anyone here with gauze hanging out either.”
“You think the burglar might be in this crowd?” My pulse started racing.
“Calm down.” Lou smiled in that cryptic way of his. “That’s not what I said. It’s always a possibility, but in this case, I doubt that he’d have the energy to make an appearance. Our burglar lost a lot of blood. That can really tire you out.”
“But you’re still thinking—”
A customer interrupted us with a question about a lovely dresser that I’d redecorated. I excused myself and left Lou so I could address her concerns.
A small group of interested people had gathered around the piece. “This is an example of one way we repurpose old furniture. The initial chest of drawers was sound, but ugly. We re-glued and refinished the piece, adding the bright stripes of color. Our goal here at The Treasure Chest is to rethink our disposable society. We’re all about second chances. Finding treasure where most people see only trash.”
“What kind of shells are on this bedside table?” Another guest pointed to a navy nightstand trimmed with white shells.
“Snail shells,” I said.
“But they’re so bright white! The size and shape are perfect on that piece.”
I nodded. The source of those white shells was definitely a secret I intended on keeping.
“I’ve never seen anything like that!” the woman raved.
Exactly, I thought. Our goal is to come up with ideas that no one else can copy.
“To think you’re keeping all this out of our landfill and producing furnishings that I want in my home. This is amazing,” said her friend.
A customer asked about the seashell garlands strung throughout the store. “Those brown beads, between the shells. Where did you buy them?”
“We didn’t,” I explained. “The large brown ones are made from recycled paper bags. The smaller beads are from pages of old books.”
“Tell me about the photo display mentioned in the news,” a guest demanded.
“You’re in luck,” I said, tapping a spoon against a glass and turning to address the crowd. “If I could have your attention? Please? If you’d come this way?”
Buzzing with excitement, our guests gathered around the blue velvet curtain.
“I’m Cara Mia Delgatto, and I want to welcome all of you to The Treasure Chest. Over the past few months, we’ve carefully curated a display of Old Florida images. When we unveil them, you’ll recognize scenes from a bygone era. Although the photos are for sale, none of them can leave the store for the next thirty days. Our goal is to create a visual reminder of our state’s history—one that changes month by month. Every thirty days, we’ll revise the exhibit. Since downtown Stuart attracts so many tourists, we hope to give our city’s visitors a glimpse of Florida’s past.”
With that, I pulled back the curtain, and the applause started.
A lump in my throat reminded me that Kathy Simmons wasn’t around to thank for her timely article. There was no way of knowing how many guests we added this evening because of Kathy’s story, but I was guessing quite a few.
As the clapping slowed, people asked questions. The media event had been a sort of dress rehearsal, so the answers came easily. At the back of the crowd, I saw Jason, who was standing at attention with one arm behind his back. He gave me an encouraging smile as I talked about the pictures, our philosophy, and my store. After what seemed like hours, but couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes, I said, “MJ, Skye, Honora, Sid, and I will be more than happy to answer any questions you have. Meanwhile, please help yourself to the food. Thank you all for joining us this evening.”
Across the room, Jason waved a bouquet of red roses at me.
CHAPTER 30
~Lou~
Lou watched the expression change on Cara’s face as Jason Robbins handed her a dozen red roses. It went from “happy” to “dreamy” in the blink of an eye.
“That’s what you need to do,” said Showalter. “Buy Skye some red roses and apologize. Nothing says ‘humble pie’ like a big bunch of expensive flowers.”
“No way,” said Lou, under his breath
. “I’m not that sort of a guy. Besides, I won’t apologize for doing my job.”
“Spoken like a confirmed bachelor,” said Showalter. “That’s exactly what you’ll be for the rest of your life if you don’t change your ways. So Barbara hurt your pride. That was ten years ago. Get over it and move on. Skye is not Barbara Grette. Those two women are nothing alike.”
Showalter might have continued his harangue, but Captain Davidson came over to join him. “You ready to leave? Let’s walk out together. Cara’s busy. I’ll send her a thank-you note from both of us tomorrow.”
Lou cast a longing glance in Skye’s direction. She caught his eye and quickly looked away, without any of her usual warmth.
Chastised, he followed Davidson past throngs of people and out of the store.
“Cara did a fantastic job,” said Davidson. “This promotion is going to generate a lot of sales.”
They had both parked a block down from the store. As they ambled toward their cars, Davidson asked Lou, “What do you have on the break in?”
Lou slowed his pace. "Bupkis."
"Bupkis?" Davidson roared with laughter. "I need to buy you a Yiddish dictionary. You do know what that really means don't you? Literally, it’s goat droppings."
"We didn’t even find that. The scumbag cut himself pretty good. Left a lot of blood on the floor and a partial print. We’re running it through the system. Checked with the local medical providers. No one came in with a big cut.”
“Ask at all the local pharmacies. Maybe someone bought a lot of gauze and bandages.”
“Will do.”
“How’d the search of Kathy Simmons’ apartment go?”
“Not well. Those two young women had nothing times two. Living on the edge.”
“Kathy ponied up the money to buy a framed photograph from Cara. Was it expensive?”
“Relative to a reporter’s salary, yes, it was.”
“Interesting. What are you thinking about the roommate?” asked Davidson.
“I can’t tell when someone is lying, can you?”
Second Chance at Life Page 9
