Chapter 8

Turn a small condo balcony into a charming area by adding a small café table and chairs.

The following day, I arrived at Antiques and Other Things to find Geoff and Ron waiting outside for me. It was a beautiful but unusually cool morning—one requiring a light jacket. But the cool day didn’t prevent Geoff and Ron from enjoying the small seating area outside the main entrance. Josh Sheridan, the owner, had put out small café tables and chairs, surrounded by planters and hanging baskets filled with blue and yellow petunias. Ron entertained himself by throwing small pieces of donuts from a Hibbard’s Bakery bag to three tiny birds that pecked at the crumbs.

Both men gave me a warm hug in greeting. “Before we go in,” I said, “let me tell you a little something about Josh. He loves old movies and frequently dresses as a character from a film he watched. If you can guess who he’s dressed like or what movie it’s from, you’ll have a friend for life.”

The old-fashioned bell over the door jangled as we entered, alerting Josh he had a potential customer. Today he sported a long Madras print shirt hanging outside his trousers and khakis.

“Hey, Josh. I’ve brought in some new Louiston residents. This is Geoff Clarke and Ron Zigler. They own the new B&B in town.”

After the introductions were over, I pondered what movie character Josh was dressed like. He enjoyed this aspect of my visits so much I didn’t want to disappoint him. The Madras shirt was reminiscent of the fifties or sixties, so I made a wild guess. “The main character from State Fair?”

“Wrong.” It didn’t help much that he only gave me one guess.

Ron stood back, studied Josh, and rubbed his chin as though deep in thought. “I’m going to guess American Graffiti.”

Josh gaped at him in astonishment. “Right!” Just that fast they became movie-loving kindred, and Geoff found himself a friend forever.

“Josh, I’m going to show Geoff and Ron around, but after that, I need to talk to you.”

“Y’all go on ahead. I’ll be here when you’re ready.” Josh’s Georgia origins were still recognizable in his accent. “Give a holler if you need me.”

After giving Geoff and Ron a quick tour, I left them to browse, and I returned to the front entrance where I found Josh stacking wooden crates.

“Take a look at these, Laura. I refinished them. They were crates used to ship matches and gun cartridges. They sure look pretty, don’t they?

“Oh, they are nice.” I took a closer look.

“I was able to preserve the labels on the sides.” Josh stacked up two more of the crates. “There’s lots of demand for them, and they nearly fly out the door as soon as I put them on display.”

I liked the look of them and could think of a dozen ways I could use them, but I didn’t want to look too interested until we could negotiate a price. After a few minutes, Josh and I came to a price we were both happy with.

Josh dumped some matchbooks and small matchboxes into a large bowl he placed on the counter. “Someone spent years collecting these, but most of them don’t have much value.” He reached into the bowl and pulled out two. “Here, take a couple. You never know when you might need a match.”

“Thanks, Josh.” I slipped the matches into my jacket pocket.” They’ll come in handy. I keep candles in case the power goes out, but I can rarely find a match to light them with.”

“Now you’ll be prepared.”

Time to get down to business. “Josh, a while ago we talked about me renting some storage space. Now that I’ve accumulated a fair amount of furnishings we use when staging empty houses and plan to obtain more, I’m running out of space at my house and at Nita’s place. Since you’ve taken over those two new mill buildings, do you think you could find space for us to rent?”

“I just might be able to. Let me check the buildings and see what kind of space I can find for you. You’ll need an area you can secure and get things in and out easily. How about I look around and call you this week?”

“That would be great. Thanks.” I picked up my new acquisition.

“What do you have there?” Ron asked, coming up from behind me. He pointed to the crate. “That’s a nice piece.”

“It’s a crate Josh refinished. I think it’ll make a good end table or maybe an occasional table. Nice isn’t it? He has more.”

Josh pointed to the crates he had stacked behind the counter. “Interested? I’ll give you a good price on ’em.”

Ron ended up purchasing two of them, and Josh was a happy businessman.

“By the way, Laura,” Josh said, “your old friend Monica Heller came in here the other day—along with that artist who’s teaching at Fischer College.”

My old friend? I would definitely not describe Monica as such. Just the thought of her raised my hackles. “Oh, yes?” I feigned interest.

“Yeah. She introduced Damian Reynolds—one of those artistic types—wearing a black silk shirt. Not many guys in Louiston wearing silk shirts. I could’ve bought a tank of gas with what he probably paid for his haircut. The interesting thing was he came back a couple of days later on his own and asked if he could consign some artwork.” So much for keeping his customers’ business confidential.

“Was that unusual?” The curiosity bug bit me again.

“Sort of. Him being so big in the art world, you’d think he’d take his stuff to an auction house. He’d get better prices than I could get for him here.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Josh. He obviously felt comfortable bringing you the pieces.”

I studied a collection of colorful vases on a shelf nearby. Why would someone well-known in the art world consign pieces to a small-town business like Josh’s? It was great for Josh, and a good idea if Damian didn’t want word getting out that he was selling his stuff. Had he fallen on hard times?

Geoff had been standing nearby. “Did you say Damian Reynolds came in here? He and his agent stayed at our B&B recently while he looked for a house in town. It was exciting having someone so famous as one of our first guests.”

“Yeah, but his stay wasn’t without drama,” Ron said, putting a bust of Jefferson on the counter.

Josh, who loved a good gossip, was all ears.

“One night, he and his agent got into a big row,” Ron said. “We thought we were going to have to break it up. Fortunately, it didn’t come to more than words. We didn’t want our B&B to become known as the place a famous artist was murdered.”