I don’t want to cause you to lock the store.” It was a lame protest because it was a lie. I totally wanted her to lock up so I could get my tour.
“Do no’ fret a bit. Tuesdays are slow as sap.” She locked the front door, turned the CLOSED sign around, then headed toward the back. As she passed by me, she said, “I’ll bet you’re full of questions.”
I nodded. “I am. First question. Who’s the buyer? These things,” I gestured toward the shop, “are amazing. I’m no expert and even I can see that they’re extraordinary.”
“Well we don’t have a buyer per se. The stuff just shows up.”
I blinked slowly. “Just shows up?”
“Oh aye. ‘Tis part of the shop’s charm it is.”
“So you, um, I mean we don’t pay for what we sell?”
“No’ in the Queen’s currency. No.” She shifted an item a quarter of a turn and stood back to assess something I could not see as she said, “Tonight we’re to have dinner at Lochlan’s house. He’s eager to transfer ownership to you.”
“Lochlan? He’s the one who wrote to me. A solicitor?”
“Oh, aye. Looking forward to meetin’ you he is. You’ll like him. He was a heartbreaker in his time,” she said wistfully. Then added, “Though a bit studious.”
“So he’s older?”
An unreadable expression flitted across her face, but she recovered her bright demeanor quickly. “He is mature. Aye. Make a list of questions if ye wish. We’ll have a lovely meal with Q and A. He has a fine cook. Envy of all who eat.”
All who eat? Wouldn’t that be everyone?
“And mayhap,” she continued moving toward the rear, “we’ll get to know you a bit better.” She stopped, turned, smiled and winked. “The supper’s sure to be accompanied by a fine spirit or two.” With an abrupt about face, she ordered, “Come this way.”
I followed Maggie’s curvy figure toward the back of the store. Her shoulder-length hair was wild and fly-away and the color left some faded clues that she must have been a bright redhead before the white began its campaign to take over. Not that I could talk. I touched up my own mahogany tresses on a regular basis. So no judging about physical evidence of time passage.
By the time I took the fortieth birthday grand scale ribbing complete with headstone cake and Geritol as a wrapped package, I’d come to terms with the fact that the only way to escape the march toward pallor of skin and hair was death. I’ll take option number one. Thanks.
It was impossible to nail down Maggie’s age on looks, and that was made harder by the fact that she ‘seemed’ young. You might call it an attitude. Or an air.
My eyes fixed, as they had again and again since I arrived, on the pendant she wore at the end of a braided silver chain. It was a stone that appeared to be a light aquamarine, the size of a child’s hand. It picked up and reflected light and color every time she moved. Of course, it couldn’t be a real aquamarine. If it was, it would be worth more than the entire village.
I saw that she’d caught me staring. So I owned it.
“Your necklace is so unusual. I’ve never seen anything like it and just can’t seem to stop staring.”
“’Tis unusual. The only one of its kind. ‘Twas a gift from a cousin. Long time ago.” With a hand wave to her right she continued the tour saying, “There’s a little office here for cataloguing new inventory and officey kinds of things.” She motioned to the left. “There’s a little kitchen here for tea or whatever you prefer. ‘Tis good for breaks and havin’ lunch. You do no’ have to worry about missin’ customers.”
“Why not?”
Maggie pointed to a bank of monitors above the door that connected the back rooms to the store. I could see the shop from every angle.
“Oh. That’s very, ah, modern.”
Maggie chuckled. “’Tis indeed.” She leaned closer to whisper conspiratorially. “’Tis also fun to watch people when they do no’ know anyone’s lookin’.” Her eyes sparkled with such mischief that I couldn’t help returning her naughty smile.
“No’ much more to tell about the downstairs. The proprietor’s residence is through there.” A cherrywood door with arched top sat at the end of the hall. Maggie fumbled with her jumble of keys before pulling three free. They hung on their own hammered silver ring, a Celtic dragon chasing its tail. “This one is for this door