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I
went home and worked on a ready-to-wear dress for the rest of the afternoon. I wanted to be able to showcase a range of sizes I was able to work with, rather than have my customers come in, see the one size—mine—on display and believe that was all I could or would do. I was proud of the fact that I could design a piece to flatter each woman, no matter what her size or shape.
I took a dinner break at about six o’clock. I went into the kitchen, opened my laptop, and did a search for quick and easy recipes. While cooking wasn’t my passion, I did enjoy it, and I liked trying new dishes. I found a tuna casserole that baked in a pie crust. Fortunately, I already had a frozen pie crust, and I always kept tuna on hand. The recipe called for shredded cheese, which I didn’t have, but I did have some single serving sizes of Colby jack in the fridge that I could cut up. I quickly prepared the casserole and placed it in the preheated oven.
While the casserole baked, I decided to see if I could find any information on my great-grandfather—the one Max had dated. I recalled that his name was George Channing. I searched for George Channing and 1929. Nothing. But, of course, my great-grandpa wouldn’t be found through a random search engine inquiry—he wasn’t a celebrity or anything. I went back to the Abingdon Virginian archives, and there I hit pay dirt.
There was a photo of George—nice looking, I could see a resemblance to Grandpa Dave—returning from a tour of duty in Nicaragua. He’d been a marine, and he looked dapper and brave in his uniform. No wonder Max had taken such a shine to him. I saved the photo to my phone.
I continued looking through the search results for George Channing and saw that in December of 1930, George had attended a party with Dorothy Englebright. Surely, this woman was Max’s sister. But why would George be with her? I had the brief, perverse thought: You don’t think Dorothy pushed Max down the stairs so she could have George, do you?
I immediately felt guilty for having such a thought. But it wouldn’t quit nagging at me either.
AFTER DINNER, I FINISHED the dress before taking my new book and going to bed. I put on my pajamas and propped my pillows against the headboard. Before leaning back, I gently ran my fingers across the embossed title—A Tale of Two Cities. My mind drifted back to being in Ford’s shop. I imagined much of Ford’s business would be conducted online. How many people were walking in off the street and plunking down hundreds—or even thousands—of dollars for some of the rarest editions? Of course, until today, I’d never considered I’d be walking into Antiquated Editions and paying sixty dollars for this leather-bound copy of A Tale of Two Cities. But the book was one of my favorites...and it was more of a way to pay Ford back for his help than anything...although I did love the book. I hugged it to my chest. Maybe Ford got more foot traffic than I had initially imagined.
Janice was another person whose business was hard for me to fathom. From what I could tell, Janice had some nice pieces of jewelry, but I’d never seen her actually making any jewelry. So, were the pieces handmade by Janice? Or by someone else?
To the best of my ability, I put Shops on Main out of my mind as I sank into the pillows and opened my book.
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness...
I drifted off to sleep and dreamed that I was Lucie Manette, Jason was Sydney Carton. And Janice was Madame DeFarge.
AFTER GETTING UP, FEEDING the cat, and taking a leisurely bath, I put Jazzy in her carrier and went to Grandpa Dave’s house. When I arrived, the first thing I did—after letting Jazzy out of the carrier—was to show Grandpa the photographs of his grandfather.
He smiled and got a faraway look in his eyes as he gazed the photo of George in his dress uniform. “I remember this picture. Nanny had it on her bedroom wall.”
“He was handsome. I can see a resemblance between the two of you.”
“My parents died before you were born, but my mother looked like Papaw. She was a striking woman.”
“I’m sure she was. I wish I could’ve known her.”
“Me too, Pup.”
I swiped the photo away to reveal the next one, the picture of George with Dorothy Englebright at the society party. “Is that your grandmother?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know who that is.” He squinted at the caption. “Dorothy Englebright...Max’s sister?”
“That’s what I’m thinking. You don’t think she’d have shoved Max down the stairs out of jealousy...do you?” I kept my voice light, but I couldn’t help but think there could be something more to Max’s fall than even Max imagined.
“I believe Mark’s death has you imagining murderers around every corner. Are you sure you’re going to be all right working in that place?”
I assured him that I was. “So...what are you thinking for lunch today?”
“How about chicken pot pie? It’ll take a while to make, but it’ll be worth it.”
“Deal. And while it bakes, we can watch something on TV.” I told him about leaving the tablet ready to show Max The Thin Man. “I hope she was able to watch it.”
“If she can use the tablet to read books, she should be able to watch the movie,” he said as we strolled into the kitchen.
Grandpa Dave got a round casserole dish out of the cabinet and preheated the oven. “If you’ll start cleaning and chopping some carrots, I’ll get started on the crust.”
As we worked, our conversation turned back to Shops on Main.
“It’s great that you’re giving Connie a quote on her kitchen cabinets,” I said. “Although, when I was there, it didn’t look as if anything in her house needed refurbishing.”
“Has a nice one, does she?”
“She does.” I took the carrots to the sink and picked up a vegetable brush. “Maybe she just wants something different.”
“That’s a possibility. People get tired of looking at the same old things day after day.” He winked. “That’s why I try to avoid mirrors.”
“Oh, you don’t. You look great and you know it. I don’t believe Max would refer to you as a silver fox otherwise.”
Grandpa colored slightly as he chuckled. “Where did she say she picked that phrase up?”
“From Janice. She owns the jewelry shop upstairs.”
“Right. The man-eater.”
“She is...um...kinda bumptious...isn’t she?”
“Bumptious?” He raised his brows and shook his head. “If you’re trying to find a nice way to say the woman is brazen, annoying, and in-your-face...then, sure, she’s kinda bumptious.”
“I just feel bad for her. She was dating Mark—”
“—who was young enough to be her son...”
“And then her shop got ransacked,” I continued. “It just seems like she’s going through a rough time.”
“Be careful, Pup. Keep in mind that you don’t know any of these people. If someone broke into Janice’s shop to find something—and it doesn’t appear that anything was taken—then whatever that person was looking for could’ve been what got Mark killed.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Think about it. Mark might’ve been killed because he knew something that Janice was hiding. All I’m saying is to be careful with everybody at Shops on Main...at least, until you know them better—a lot better.”
AFTER EATING LUNCH, tidying the kitchen, and watching a show about carpentry—Grandpa loved it, and I found it interesting too—we decided to go to Designs on You to make sure everything was shipshape for the next day.
I was glad that Grandpa didn’t say much as he drove. I’d been afraid he might ask me if I was excited about my grand opening or if I’d told my parents about my shop yet. I hadn’t told them. I wanted the shop to be successful first, or at least, modestly successful. Since I only talked with my parents about once a month, I justified my actions by telling myself that I wasn’t misleading them but merely waiting to surprise them.
Despite the fact—or maybe because of the fact—that we hadn’t discussed my opening the shop to the public tomorrow, my heart was pounding as I unlocked the main door at Shops on Main and then my shop door.
“What do we need to do?” Grandpa asked.
“There’s not a lot to do,” I said. “I don’t have much to work with yet.”
He nodded toward the bolts of fabric I had stacked on my work table. “How about we put those on the shelf?”
“Yes, that’d be great.” I took a bolt of red fabric and stood it up on one of the bottom shelves. I wondered where Max was...if she’d been able to watch her movie...if she’d liked it if she had seen it. Anything to get my mind off the worry that I finally gave voice to. “What if nobody comes tomorrow?”
“Of course, people will come!” He put the bolt of fabric he was holding onto the shelf before coming over and hugging me. “You’ve put out flyers, you and Jason attracted attention on the street yesterday, Connie is helping to spread the word...”
“But that’s no guarantee people will come into the shop.”
“If they don’t, we’ll throw a party!”
Grandpa started at the sound of Max’s voice. “Don’t do that. You’ll give an old man a heart attack.”
“If I weren’t a spirit, I’d take that as a personal challenge.” She grinned. “But back to this no customers thing. Of course, you’ll have them, but if or when you want more, we’ll simply have a party.”
“Max has a point. A grand opening soiree a few weeks from now will be a wonderful way to welcome customers and to let them know what you’re all about.”
“By that time, Jason will have your photographs finished, and you can have them framed or put on canvases or whatever and displayed on your walls.” Max twirled around, as if she were already imagining where the photos should be placed. “You’ll serve canapes and wine, and people will be drawn to you like flies to manure.”
I laughed. “Well, that’s a flattering image.”
“It will be the berries! Wait and see.”
“I agree,” said Grandpa. “And, Amanda, you can leave the party-planning to Max and me.”
I stilled. “I hear someone upstairs.”
“Yes, that’s Jason,” said Max. “I was upstairs looking over his shoulder at your photos before you arrived. They’re marvelous.”
“Really?”
Max nodded and then tilted her head as they heard footsteps on the stairs. “Dave, darling, why don’t you and I go out onto the porch? I believe Jason is coming down to talk with Amanda.”
He grinned. “Good idea.”
I followed them out into the hallway.
Grandpa looked up and saw Jason on the stairs. “Hi, Jason. I’m going to go out and get some fresh air while Amanda puts the finishing touches on the shop for tomorrow’s thundering hoard of customers.”
“Thundering hoard? In my dreams,” I said.
Jason came on down the steps and walked with me back into my shop. “I think the place looks great.”
“Thank you.”
“And I believe you might be surprised at how many people you’ll find checking out your shop tomorrow. I won’t say they’ll all be customers, at least, not at first, but there will be a lot of people come in.”
“How about you? Do you have any appointments set up for tomorrow?”
“I do,” he said. “That’s my advantage. I had a client list before I leased this space.”
“I would like to see your studio.”
He extended a hand toward the door. “After you.”
As we walked up the staircase, I confessed that hearing his feet upstairs made me nervous. “I immediately thought of Mark, his killer, Janice’s shop being ransacked. It’s amazing how many things can flood your mind at once.”
“It is. Hearing you guys down here gave me pause too. I thought I’d better come down and check it out.”
“I’m glad you did. I mean, I wouldn’t have bolted from the building or anything, but it’s nice to know it was you.”
“Hey, if you ever get scared while working here, always go to a safe place,” said Jason. “Never talk yourself out of following your fear instinct.”
He ushered me into his studio. The first thing I saw was a projection screen, which took up most of the far wall, and was surrounded by various lighting sources. A tall wooden stool stood in front of the screen. There were shelves that contained cameras and lenses and other photography stuff that I didn’t recognize. Smaller screens, chairs, and other props were located throughout the room as well. A desk sat beneath the window, the chair currently facing away from it and the blinds drawn.
“This is really nice,” I said. “Will you do most of your shoots here?”
“Some. I also do location shots. I go to schools and local parks and landmarks for senior portraits. I do weddings. I shot you in your shop and on the street because I knew those would be the most flattering.” He nodded toward the laptop on his desk. “I haven’t finished touching up the photos yet, but would you like to see what I’ve got?”
“I would.”
Jason pulled one of the prop chairs over to the desk for me before he sat on the desk chair and opened the laptop. The screen filled with an image of me in the emerald evening gown looking over my shoulder.
“That’s one of my favorites,” Jason said. “But I’m not bragging—not on myself, anyway—when I tell you they’re all good.” He clicked a button, and the screen changed to a slideshow.
We both smiled as we watched the screen, and I wondered if he was remembering the shoot as fondly as I was.
When we got to the end, Jason explained that after he’d touched up all the photos, he’d give them to me on a disk, and I could make whatever I wanted from them.
“If I were you, I’d make this one—” He was back to the original photo of me in the green gown. “—into a 24” x 36” canvas print and place it over your mantle.”
“Will you help me determine what size prints I should get and where I should put them?”
“I’d be happy to.” He looked back at the screen. “It’s cool that you’re so tight with your grandpa.”
“Yeah. My parents live in Florida, and he’s really great.”
“Does he live with you?”
“No. I live in my parents’ house, and he has a house in the country...about ten or fifteen minutes from here.”
“Cool.”
“So...who do you live with, Jason?” I immediately regretted saying the words and kept my eyes glued to the computer screen.
“A little white mutt named Rascal.” He closed the laptop. “Will you be going out to celebrate tomorrow night?”
“I guess that depends on how the first day goes. Will you?”
“Maybe. Like you, I guess it depends.”
“I should get back downstairs,” I said.
“And I need to get home and feed Rascal. He’s a bottomless pit.”
“Thank you again for the photos. You do wonderful work.”
“You’re welcome, and you made it easy.”
When I got back downstairs, Grandpa and Max were looking at the tablet.
“We’re deciding what I should watch next,” Max said. “I loved the movie you left for me.”
“I’m glad you could watch it.”
“So...did Jason show you photos?” she asked.
“He did. They’re pretty good.”
She scoffed. “Pretty good? They’re fantastic! Wait until you see them, Dave. You’ll love them.”
“Jason is going to help me decide what size prints to get and where to put them. He thinks I should put one of me in the green evening gown over the mantle.”
“I agree,” said Max. “Has he asked you out on a proper date yet?”
“No.” I lowered her voice. “He’s probably dating someone.”
“I don’t think so. No photo on his desk—and he’s a photographer, for goodness’ sake. If he had a girlfriend, he’d have photos of her in his studio.”
“Max has a point At least, don’t knock yourself out of the running when you don’t even know whether or not you have competition.”
I was beginning to squirm under the spotlight. “Oh, Max, I have some photos to show you.” I got out my phone and pulled up the picture of dashing George Channing in his uniform. “He was handsome.”
“He certainly was.” Max’s face and her voice fell. She reached out her hand, although she knew she couldn’t touch the image.
When Max’s hand neared the phone, the image was replaced by the one of George with Max’s sister Dorothy.
“Dot...” A sad, wistful smile briefly kissed her lips. “That was at the Christmas cotillion the year I died.”
“Did George date Dorothy after...well...after?” I asked.
“No. They were only friends. They leaned on each other rather heavily after my death.”
“That’s good.” I cleared my throat. “I was afraid Dorothy had pushed you down the stairs.” My attempt at a laugh was feeble.
“Nonsense. Dot and I were inseparable.”
“I’m afraid Amanda has let Mark’s death influence everything she sees lately,” Grandpa said.
“Yes, well, it was a shock to everyone...except the killer, I imagine.” Max stared out into the hallway as if she was reliving her moment of death. “You know, I did feel a bit off the night I tumbled down the stairs. I wonder if I was sick or something.”
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