Second Chance at Life

by Joanna Campbell Slan

  “EveLynn craves order. Believe me, I’m much more fussy and eclectic in my choices, but since she’s moved in with me, I do things her way…most of the time. That makes life less stressful for both of us, because I’m flexible and she’s not.”

  EveLynn stepped out of a room at the end of the hall. A frown worried her face. As before, she didn’t acknowledge me or look me in the eye.

  “Did you get my text?” Honora asked her daughter. “I told you that I’d be coming by with Cara to pick up more of your soft goods.”

  “I have two boxes ready,” she said. “The inventory sheet is on top.”

  “Can I see what you’re sending me?” I wondered.

  “No. It’s already packed up.”

  “Oh.”

  “EveLynn, perhaps you could let Cara borrow your portfolio. If she makes a copy of it, customers could use the pictures to place orders. Cara might also come up with ideas for things she’d like to stock in her store.”

  “I know what people like to buy,” said EveLynn.

  Oh-kay!

  EveLynn ducked back inside her room. I took the opportunity to sneak a peek inside. I’ve never seen such a tidy workspace. Pegboards covered one wall. The outlines of tools made it clear that every item had its own home. Shelves with labeled bins marched up another wall. Despite the fact that she’d been in the midst of sewing—a piece of material rested under the head of the machine—there wasn’t any litter on the floor. Not a scrap of thread or fabric. A pincushion had been Velcroed to the sewing machine. Not one pin rested on the tabletop.

  I’d never seen such an organized effort. Usually as I pull them out of a project, half of the pins wind up on the floor.

  EveLynn grabbed a notebook labeled “EveLynn’s Portfolio.” From inside, she withdrew a card from a library pocket. She asked, “How long do you intend to keep this?”

  “Would a week be too long?” I wondered.

  “No.”

  “Do you need my phone number? To write on the library card?”

  “I have your phone number memorized.”

  I took the portfolio and thanked her.

  “EveLynn, would you please carry the boxes out to Cara’s car? I want to show her my craft room.”

  Honora opened a door to a disaster. Or as Kiki might say, “This room illustrates the crafter-math of a creative session.”

  Painted at the top of one wall was a saying by Nietzsche: “One must feel the chaos within to give birth to a dancing star.”

  “My personal motto,” said Honora. “In every other aspect of my life I’m very tidy. But when a creative surge arises, look out world! I don’t take the time to put away my tools or supplies. That would stop the flow. I can’t tell you how many projects I’ve ruined because my workspace was messy.”

  “How do you and EveLynn keep from getting on each other’s nerves?”

  “It’s been impossible, actually. That’s why I wanted you to see how it is. Cara, dear, I need a space at your store where I can do my work.”

  CHAPTER 46

  Skye had already left for Pumpernickel’s, so I put her bouquet in a vase for her. MJ was thrilled with her bouquet. I gave Sid an envelope with a crisp twenty dollar bill, and thanked everyone for their hard work at the VIP event. Their joyful responses reminded me how important it was for me to celebrate our successes. My dad often held impromptu staff parties at the restaurant. Whenever he heard good news, whether it was a server’s birthday or even once when a dishwasher passed his GED, Dad always seized the opportunity to note the milestones.

  Gosh, but I missed my father.

  "Cara? You're the best boss I ever had,” said Sid.

  “Ditto,” said MJ. “By the way, that picture and three copies are on your desk. Skye printed them on photo paper and used deckle scissors around the edges. You can't tell the new ones from the original. She said to tell you there's a scan of the original in your computer."

  “Great. I’ll give one to Kathy Simmons’ mother at the funeral.” I tacked a print to the bulletin board so I wouldn’t forget it. Thinking better of the situation, and knowing my tendency to be forgetful, I left that one on the bulletin board as a reminder and popped another copy into my purse. I didn't want to give the woman a photo with a thumbtack hole in it!

  Sid brought in the boxes of EveLynn’s soft goods from my car. I had to admit, her choices were perfect. She had machine-appliqued stylized seahorses, seashells, and waves on muslin pillows and throws. She’d also included fabric napkins that matched placemats and table runners. The effect was totally charming.

  “I’ll put these out on the sales floor,” said Honora.

  “I need to run out to a customer’s house,” said MJ. “She’s thinking of buying a Highwaymen painting. I told her that I’d schlep over a few that might work for the space she wants filled. While I’m out, I’ll pick up supplies for your cat.”

  That left Sid and me in my office.

  “As soon as I can get the shopping basket up on our website, I’ll take photos and post them,” Sid said. “That new stuff will sell fast.”

  “Is that what you planned to work on today?”

  “Yeah, the website in general. I know you want me to compile a master inventory list for you, but if I can get the shopping cart added to our website, it’ll bring in more money, faster. Especially now that you can show off the miniatures. They’re perfect for an online store. They’ll cost you next to nothing to ship, they photograph well, and they’re unique.”

  “Good thinking. In the words of Jean Luc Piccard, ‘Make it so,’” I said, settling in behind my desk. “I have one concern about the website. What if the color or patterns vary on our items? What if we only have one of something?”

  “No problem. We put OOAK next to the listing.” He leaned against the door jam.

  I smiled at him. Although he was young, Sid was a problem-solver who took initiative. That reminded me. “We need a space where Honora can work, here in the back. Can you put that together for her?”

  “Sure. Now that your office is in to the storage closet, we can use the area where your desk used to sit.”

  “We’ll have to move the bulletin board. Otherwise no one can get to it,” I said, “and she’ll need a really good light.”

  “Right. With all the storm activity here in Florida, a surge protector is a must,” said Sid. “If I can borrow your car, I'll run to the hardware store and pick one up. She can order a lamp online. I bet I can find her a nice desk there, too.”

  “Let her look at them first before you order anything.”

  Time passed quickly. The mail came. Amidst the normal bunch of bills and solicitations I found another letter addressed to me. This was labeled, so I hoped it wasn't another anonymous threat.

  But it was. Again, I read what a miserable excuse for a person I was. The writer suggested that if I didn't sell out, the building might catch on fire with me in it.

  I fed this letter to the paper shredder and tried to ignore it.

  At noon I realized that I hadn’t had any lunch. I was pulling leftovers out of the refrigerator when Honora took a chair and sat down at the table. She had a weird expression on her face.

  “LaTisha just called. You’re never going to believe this,” she said. “Shortly after we left the Wentworths’ house, the Senator had a seizure. At least, that’s what they think happened. Jenny Beth and LaTisha were in the kitchen when they heard a series of thumps and a groan. The emergency crew got there in minutes, but it didn’t matter.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “The Senator is dead.”

  CHAPTER 47

  “What?” I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. The news about the Senator shook me to my core. Sure, he’d seemed off-kilter, but I would have never guessed he was on death’s doorstep.

  Honora was even more upset than I. She sat there at the table, staring off into space and twisting a handkerchief in her hands. We both needed a strong cup of tea. After putting on the k
ettle, I joined her at the small folding table that had become our natural gathering place.

  “I don’t know why this has me rattled,” Honora said. “It’s to be expected. At our age, every day is a bonus. Josiah wasn’t aging well. His mind was clearly going. He’d shrunken over the years, but still…”

  “I would have never visited unannounced if I’d known he was on death’s doorstep,” I said, as I poured the hot water into our cups. Suddenly, my leftovers didn’t seem very appetizing.

  “No, of course not. He must have taken a sudden turn, or LaTisha would have suggested that we postpone our visit, but she didn’t.” Honora frowned at her cup and said, “Cara, dear, I have a bad feeling about this. The timing is all wrong. Think about it. The Senator looked fine at your open house. Although he seemed a bit confused today, his color was good, wasn’t it? He was up and about. Dressed. Not lying around in bed.”

  “True, but maybe he was worse off than he looked. Maybe that’s why his wife was so testy. Could it be that she knew he wasn’t doing well, but LaTisha didn’t?”

  “I doubt that. Jenny Beth didn’t act worried about the Senator. Not at all. She would have ordered us out of the house if she was concerned. Trust me. Jenny Beth doesn’t mince words. Like a lot of women who marry powerful men, she’s grown accustomed to people jumping when she says, ‘Boo, pea, turkey.’”

  “Boo, pea, turkey?” I repeated.

  “A Southernism,” explained Honora. “Meaning ‘zilch.’ Point being that Jenny Beth has been spoilt by her husband’s status. She’s taken on the luster of his title, and she uses it for her own purposes. Did you notice that she barely let Josiah finish a sentence? Hardly the epitome of the adoring little woman, is it?”

  We sat in silence for a while.

  “On another subject,” I said. “Sid ran out to get a surge protector. I’ve asked him to help you put together a workspace. Why don’t you go online to try to find a table and a good lamp? You can use my computer. Do you know how to do a search?”

  “Of course I do,” she said. “Sid taught me.”

  I grabbed a clipboard and got to work on Skye’s Spa Goodies. A short time later, MJ walked in.

  “Good news. I sold one of those big paintings by Will Daniels. This is for you,” she said, handing over two shopping bags full of kitty accessories. When I tried to pay her back, she shook her head. “All the men I date know I love my fur-babies, so they’re always bringing me this and that. I shove it all in a closet. Usually it goes to the no-kill shelter, but lately The Treasure Chest has become a no-kill shelter.”

  I laughed, but it was true. Sort of.

  “Congratulations on the sale,” I said.

  MJ smiled. She loved selling our cache of Highwaymen paintings. "After I write up the paperwork, I’ll give Luna a bath, so she smells better. I noticed that she has a few fleas. I’ll dusted her with flea powder, but you'll want to get a product from the vet to keep her bug free."

  “No problem. Why two cat litter pans?” I asked, as I rummaged through the bags.

  “Maybe you could give Luna the run of the store. Why not put one litter pan down here and one up in your apartment?”

  I did as MJ suggested and then introduced Luna to her new bathroom facilities. She knew exactly how to put them to good use. I praised the cat and gave her a kitty treat for being so fastidious. As she chewed on the small morsel, I put on my reading glasses and used this opportunity to examine the tags on her collar. The first verified her shots were up to date. On the second tag, which was red and shaped like a heart, Kathy had inscribed a cell phone number and the phrase, “Darcy+Kathy4Ever.”

  Luna studied me with lemon-yellow eyes.

  “I’m sorry Kathy is gone,” I said, as I stroked her head. “I know you miss her.”

  Luna rubbed her face against mine.

  “Sorry, baby,” I said. “So sorry.”

  MJ went back to calling people who'd expressed an interest in vintage Florida merchandise. Honora and Sid bent their heads over graph paper to plan her new work space. I used the time to check my emails, finish paperwork, and wait on customers.

  A little after one, Poppy rapped on the back door. When I opened it, he gave me a big hug. As first I felt stiff, but I can never stay mad at Poppy for long.

  “Sorry about the other night.” Poppy pulled up a chair. “My temper got the best of me. I drove over to Jupiter Island earlier to set things right with Josiah Wentworth. LaTisha let me in. She and I go way back. Guess I just missed you by seconds.”

  "What?" My stomach did a slow twist and wound up in a knot. “You were there? Right after we left?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I spoke to the Senator while he sat there in the lanai. Just us two, but I didn’t get to make a proper apology because Jenny Beth came roaring in like the Wicked Witch of the West. She had that handyman of theirs come and throw me out. Make me so dad-gum mad I almost put my fist right through their front door.”

  Honora’s mouth quivered. I could tell she was thinking the same thing I was—and it wasn’t good.

  “Please tell me that you got right back in your car and came here,” I said, although I was clutching at straws. “Poppy, you didn’t hang around, did you? Did you say anything you shouldn’t have?”

  “Might have. I stood there on their doorstep and told Jenny Beth that for the wife of a murdering thief she had a lot of nerve. I told her I’d intended to apologize, but now she was the one who ought to be trying to make things right.”

  “Please tell me that no one overheard you.”

  “Of course folks heard me. While I was setting her straight, the Jupiter Island police showed up. Jenny Beth musta called them even before she got that handyman involved. Can you believe it?”

  “Yes,” I said, although my voice was little more than a whisper. “I certainly can.”

  “What happened next?” asked Honora.

  “Nothing.” Poppy looked very pleased with himself. “Who do you suppose fixes the engines on the Jupiter Island police cars? Huh? None other than yours truly. Once they called in my name, those two whippersnappers in uniform backed down real fast. Then I delivered my coup de grace.”

  “Your coup de grace?” I had to repeat the term because he’d mispronounced it as a “coop-dee-grace.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I told them that I had as much right to be on that island as Tiger Woods or Celine Dion or even Greg Norman.”

  “Right. But they’re property owners. You aren’t.”

  “The heck I ain’t.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. Honora shot me a look that suggested I was postponing the inevitable. I needed to tell Poppy about the Senator’s death. But I was too intrigued by my grandfather’s assertion that he owned property on Jupiter Island. That just didn’t seem possible.

  “I mean exactly what I said. I own property on Jupiter Island,” he said.

  Was it possible that his insulin pump wasn’t working? Was he being belligerent and confused because his blood sugar was off? He didn’t seriously think he owned property on an island where the median home value was $2.8 million, did he?

  Poppy gave me his most self-assured smile. “I used to fix stuff for the widow Fingersmith all the time. Her son and I were in the service together. When she died, she up and left me her house on the island. I didn’t want to take it at first. But her son thought it was fine for me to have the house. He got plenty in her will—and he never wanted to see the ocean again after his stint out in the South Pacific. I've kept the place rented out ever since.”

  “Did I ever go there? To the house on the island?” I searched my memory and came up blank.

  “Of course you did. We used to go all the time. You called Mrs. Fingersmith, ‘Beautiful,’” added Poppy.

  “Beautiful?” A fuzzy picture of an elegant lady inviting me to play UNO emerged. I recalled her serving me vanilla wafers. Cold milk. I described that mental picture to Poppy.

  “That’s right. She treated you like you was her own kin.”r />
  “But she died and left you a house? You own a place on Jupiter Island?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

  “What’s so surprising about that?”

  “Nothing, I guess.”

  “Dick,” said Honora, clearing her throat, “we have some bad news for you.”

  CHAPTER 48

  ~Lou~

  Lou crossed his fingers as he walked into Pumpernickel’s. The deli was always busy around lunchtime. With any luck, Skye would have gotten over being angry with him. If not, he hoped she’d be so busy waiting on customers that she’d forget how mad she was.

  Things seemed to be going his way because his usual seat, the booth in the far right corner, was empty. So he took it.

  “It’s a hamburger medium rare on a whole wheat bun with mustard, pickles, and American cheese kind of day,” Skye said, with a smile. “Instead of fries, you want a fruit salad.”

  “How’d you guess? Don’t suppose you have a break coming up.”

  “As you can see, we’re pretty busy. But I’ll ask Dora to cover for me. Give me five minutes to put this in,” and she grinned at him. Her cute little ponytail bobbed along as she moved from table to table.

  In short order, she returned with a large iced tea for him and a glass of water for herself. Taking the bench seat across from him, she asked, “How’s it going?”

  “Lousy. This murder case is driving me nuts. The lab is taking forever to get back to me. Summer vacations. Short-handed.”

  “Yeah, same here. Plus, we’ve got two waitresses at home with sick kids. That leaves me working all day. I don’t mind, except that I’d rather be crafting stuff for the store. We sold a ton of my jewelry and spa items.”

  “Good for you. That reminds me,” said Lou, “I really enjoyed myself at the VIP Open House. Sorry I couldn’t stick around longer. What you did with those plastic bags was interesting.”

  “Thanks. The place was packed, wasn’t it?”

  “Did Cara do what she’d hoped? Did she sell a lot?”