She’s off that day, and she decides to shop at the Beacon Hill thrift stores. She hasn’t splurged on herself in a while. On the way, she detours to Storied Antiques. It remains shuttered, the closed sign hanging at its usual slanted angle, the furniture the same old. Taylor tilts her head.Somethingis different. She checks off a mental list.
Tumbler? Yes. Hammered brass coaster? Yes. Emily Dickinson book? Check.
It’s so obvious what is different that it takes her a good minute to realize. The footstool has been removed.
Someone has been into the store.
Taylor moves closer to the window. The sun is at her back, creating a reflective glare.
She pushes her face up against the glass, and her breath quickens, creating a circular fog. A light glimmers in the back of the store.
She moves a few feet down to another spot, trying to get a better look, when she hears the door rattle open.
“Taylor, what are you doing?” a raspy voice says. Taylor takes a moment to compute the person standing in front of her: It’s her landlord, Anna.
Even with a hunched back, and resting on a cane, she is still a few inches taller than Taylor. Her silver hair falls loosely around her shoulders and is tucked behind one ear, exposing a small ruby stud.
“Uh, hello, ma’am.”
Anna lets out a raucous laugh. “It’s Anna to you. Did you come looking for me?”
“No, I, uh, I was just coming to look at the store. Why…” Taylor trails off. She doesn’t want to be rude, but she wants to know why Anna is inside Vivian’s store. Do they know each other?
“That’s a funny coincidence,” Anna replies, looking intently at Taylor. “I own this building.”
“You do?”
Anna picks up her cane and points down the street. “And that one, two doors down.” Then she begins jabbing the cane this way and that. “And a building on Charles Street, with one of those nail salons and clothing stores. I also own some real estate near the Old State House. Another couple of nail salons and a bookstore. Not the new bookstore, the one that sells used books—Turned Pages. The old one, like me,” she cackles.
“Oh, I didn’t realize. That’s a…a lot of buildings.”
“Yes, it is. All that action keeps me on my toes.”
Taylor smiles politely. “Is this store reopening soon?”
Anna glances behind her and sighs. “I hope so. It’s a shame; the woman who owns the antiques business had an accident.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. Is she okay?” Taylor says, trying to keep her voice even.
“I’m just the landlord. The rent continues to be paid, which is all I care about. Paid in advance, in fact.”
Paid in advance.Who is making payments on Vivian’s behalf? Maybe it’s her personal accountant, because Vivian must have a personal accountant, or a money manager, or whatever it is the über wealthy have. Whoever it is, it doesn’t matter. It gives Taylor a jolt of hope. This must mean Vivian is returning, because otherwise why would her rent continue to be paid?
Anna taps the cane, like a metronome. “No, wait, that’s not right. What month is it, again? April?”
Taylor nods.
“Then it’s only been paid through the end of this month.” Anna laughs. “This is what happens when you get to be my age. The days all run into each other like those damn bicyclists making their food deliveries.”
“So, the store isnotreopening?”
“We’ll see. Between you and that nicely dressed fellow who’s come around, this store has gotten a surprising amount of traction for being temporarily closed.” Anna gives Taylor a sweeping look. “How’s your dad doing? He must be getting ready to reopen the restaurant for the season?”
“Uh, yeah,” Taylor responds, but she’s thinking to herself:What nicely dressed fellow?
“Your dad’s a real Southern gentleman.” Anna laughs again. “I don’t know many Southern gentlemen. I don’t know many gentlemen. But your dad is a fine Southern gentleman, let me tell you. When we spoke on the phone, it was ‘ma’am this’ and ‘ma’am that.’ Must be where you get your manners from. I had a feeling about you. I said to myself, this daughter of his is a nice girl. A nice nurse and a nice girl. She’ll be a good tenant. Is Boston treating you well?”
Taylor swallows. It might be the mention of her dad, or just someone asking if she’s okay, but she finds herself blinking back tears. “Yeah. Yeah, everything’s good. Thanks.”
