For now, she had to get out of the hot storeroom. Finishing with the Elnora shipment, Gemma collected shipping boxes, papers, and Bubble Wrap, kicking what she couldn’t carry out to the mezzanine.
“Hello.” A smallish woman with a piquant face stood by the stairs.
“Can I help you?” Gemma regarded her for a moment. She was pretty with a cloud of white, Brillo pad hair and fiery eyes. “Grandmother dresses are in the small salon.” She carried the trash to the chute down to the outside dumpster. A Haley Danner invention. Wait. How’d this woman… The shop wasn’t open yet. “Excuse me but how did you get in?”
Gemma peered down into the shop. The lights were off, window shades drawn, and the music wasn’t playing.
“Did I leave the back door unlocked?” She reached for the woman, ready to usher her down the stairs and out the back door.
“I didn’t come in the back door.”
“Then how did you come in? Know what? Never mind. You need to go.” Gemma reached for the elderly woman, but the spry thing seemed to walk through her hand.
“Don’t be so hasty. I came to help you.”
“Help me?” Gemma gave her the once over. Dressed entirely in white, she wore a simple, drop waist dress, stockings, and low-heeled slip-ons. She carried no handbag, phone, or set of keys. “I’m still curious how you got in here. Did Haley send you? As you can see, I’ve already dealt with our latest shipment.”
Gemma bent for the packing papers and boxes she’d kicked from the storeroom and shoved them down the chute. Why would Haley send her help? Especially a very tiny, frail-looking woman.
“I’m sorry I’m late, but I was busy on another assignment. Now, shall we get going with you?” With a smile on her bow lips, the old woman spryly walked to the storeroom. “It’s in here, I think.”
“Excuse me.” Gemma pushed the door closed. “You can’t go in there. This is private property. You need to leave.” Her bold declaration was governed by a sense of foreboding. The showrunner for the Vegas reality show was a well-connected producer who looked and sounded like Aunt Bea from Mayberry. But she was a witch. Mean, controlling, and selfish.
“I see you’re not going to make this easy. Now where is it? That sweet dress.” While Gemma still leaned against the door, this little bit of a woman grabbed the knob and pulled it open.
How in the world—
“Look, Mrs. Whoever You Are, I don’t mean to be rude but you must leave.” In Vegas, Gemma had never learned to stand up to bullies with white fluffy hair, but today was a new day. She wasn’t trapped in the dream Matt pitched about how this show “is going to rock your world. Make you a star.”
Little did she know, rocking her world meant losing a piece of herself every week.
This teeny tiny buttinsky had to go.
“Where isthatgown? Haley and JoJo’s?” Hand tapping her chin, the woman scanned the dresses and all the labeled boxes.
Haley’s intake of vintage gowns exceeded the space on the floor so she preserved the ones she didn’t need immediately. The gown she and JoJo wore was very vintage, very special, and according to legend, almost a living, breathing thing.
“Please, don’t make me call the sheriff’s deputy.” Gemma took the woman’s arm to remove her from the room, but she didn’t budge. Not so much as a wobble.
“Did I forget to introduce myself? That’s been happening more and more.” She offered her small, weathered hand. “I’m Adelaide.”
Gemma glared down at her, arms folded.And?
“Yes, well.” Adelaide withdrew her hand. “I’m here to help you.”
“I don’t need help.”
“Well you see, that’s the trick of it. You do. Ah, there it is.” Adelaide pointed to a box on the top shelf. “Can you pull it down?”
“For what reason?” Gemma tried again to eject Adelaide from the storeroom, but she twisted free. “I’m still trying to figure out who you are and what you’re doing here.”
“They told me you’d be difficult but not this much.”
“They?” She hated to admit it, but Adelaide’s brand of crazy was entertaining. Also, very fragrant. A heady, spicy scent had begun to radiate from her. And for a moment, Gemma thought the old woman’s skin sparkled. “Listen, I promise I won’t hurt you, but have you escaped your family, or some hospital?”
“Goodness no. I’m completely sound.” Adelaide fluffed her white, floating hair. “I guess I might as well say it, being how I’m late and don’t have time to nuance things as I usually do. I can see you’re a skeptic.” Oh, Gemma was a skeptic all right. “Sweetheart, I’m your angel.”
“My angel?” Gemma laughed. “Where were you two years ago when I needed you most?” She patted her hip. “When I got this? Is this—Oh wait, I know, Tommy sent you, didn’t he?”
