The town was gearing up for its annual Renaissance Faire, which would be held on the green and spill over onto the Hotel Varonne’s grounds as well as into the streets. Many of those nearest the green would be closed to allow people to walk in the roads and for street performers to do their thing.
The Faire lasted nearly four weeks, and people came from all over to attend. Jen, Stacey, Lorraine, and I looked forward to it every year. The entertainment included plays, music, dancers, magicians, jousting, and raptor demonstrations, among many other things. The food was always delicious, as was the beer and wine.
The decorations had already begun to go up, including tinkling bells and chimes that hung everywhere and created fairytale music. I had a hard time not stopping to look in the store windows to see the artful displays that seemed to grow more grand and detailed every year. It didn’t hurt that there was a contest for the best one, the funniest, the most unusual, and so on.
I hurried my steps when I realized I’d dawdled a little too long and I was about to be late. A three-story building, Mitzi’s Emporium, wedged between a tea shop and an antique store. Its name scrolled across the windows in gold letters. Underneath in smaller lettering read: Where You Will Always Find the Answers You Seek. I wondered what kinds of answers Mitzi’s sold. Peeking through the dim and dusty windows, I could see racks of clothing and displays full of all sorts of tchotchkes. An eclectic mix of things for sure.
I dug out Ajax’s bowl and filled it with water. “Stay out here. I’ll be back soon,” I told him. I knocked on the wood door frame and then tried to open the doors. They were locked. I checked the time again. I was exactly on time. I knocked again, louder.
“Oh, hello,” came a woman’s voice behind me. “You must be Beck Wyatt. We’re around in the courtyard. It’s such a lovely afternoon, we thought we’d have lemonade while we discuss the estate.”
I turned around. The speaker was a diminutive woman, maybe five foot three, with narrow features, straight brown hair caught up in a clip behind her head, purple cat eye glasses, and wearing jeans and a tank top beneath an oversized plaid flannel shirt, its sleeves rolled up above her elbows. She appeared to be my age, perhaps a little older.
“I’m Beck,” I said. “You must be Lindsey?” I held out my hand.
“I am.” She held up her hands, both encased in tight-fitting gloves. “I’m sorry, I don’t shake hands. I have arthritis and wear compression gloves. Shaking hands can be very painful.”
“That can’t be fun.”
“It isn’t. Won’t you follow me? My cousins, Rhi and Lorel, are waiting for us.”
I followed her along a little cobblestone walkway that passed through a green tunnel made of trellised vines and emptied into a round cobbled patio behind the building. A dry fountain sat in the center with a dozen planters full of both overgrown and dying plants. A shady table sat under a mountain ash. It held a pitcher of lemonade and a plate of cookies and fruit. Two women rose as we arrived.
They were clearly identical twins, though one had her pale blonde locks cut in a layered pixie and the other wore her silky hair long. They both towered over their cousin, standing about my height, which was five foot eight. Both looked vaguely ethereal with their pale skin, long fingers, and delicate figures. They wore gorgeous summery dresses that looked like they cost a fortune. “These are my cousins Rhiannon and Lorelei,” Lindsey said. Her gestures indicated that the short-haired one was Rhiannon and the long-haired one was Lorelei. “My aunt was a fan of seventies rock music and took their names from songs.”
Both women smiled brightly. “So good to meet you,” Rhiannon said. “Call me Rhi. Please sit down. Is that your dog?”
I glanced behind me to see that Ajax had followed us and now lay where the cobblestone walk met the patio.
“That’s Ajax,” I confirmed. “He’s friendly.”
“May we pet him?” asked Lorelei.
“Come here, Ajax,” I told him, patting my leg. He sprang up and trotted over, his tongue flopping out of his mouth. He politely sat beside me as the two women introduced themselves and pet him.
“Does he need anything? Water maybe?” Lindsey stood a couple feet away, watching her cousins fawn over Ajax, who was reveling in the attention.
“I gave him some water out front. I left the bowl—”
She didn’t wait for me to finish, but gave a sharp little nod. “No problem. I’ll get it. Have a seat.”
She trotted off. I sat down at an empty seat. Rhi and Lorelei sat on either side of me.
“Do help yourself,” Lorelei said, nudging a clean plate toward me. “Can I pour you lemonade? It’s fresh squeezed with a little bit of mint.”
“Please,” I said and put a couple of cookies and some blueberries on my plate.
Lindsey returned and put Ajax’s bowl down in the shade near me, took her seat opposite me, and immediately got down to business.
“My aunt Mitzi died a little while ago. I’m the executor of her will. I can show you those papers and her death certificate, as I’m sure you’ll need to see them to be assured we are authorized to liquidate the place. She left everything to Rhi and Lorel, who want to sell the contents of both the shop and the living space above. We’d like to get a bid from you and see when we could schedule a sale.”
I nodded. “I’ll have to walk through and see what’s here and if it’s a sale we can do. We generally charge fifty percent of the proceeds, which includes advertisement, staffing, preparation, the sale itself, and cleanup. That percentage may be adjusted upward depending on the condition of the estate pieces and how much cleaning and organizing will be necessary. You’ll also need to rent a dumpster for anything that’s broken, moldy, moth-eaten, or otherwise unsalable. Some items of greater value I may take and sell at auction or to dealers if I think we can get a higher price that way. Keep in mind the estates I take on are higher end with more valuable art, collectibles, and furniture.”
Lindsey nodded, having heard pretty much the same spiel when she’d first contacted me.
“Have you removed or tagged the things that you wish to keep?” I asked.
“We’re not keeping anything,” Lindsey said.
