Then came the awkward stage. Three months of relative silence. Our regulars rarely dropped by. If it hadn’t been for prom season, we wouldn’t have broken even. Not that the consignment shop had ever really been about making money. It had always been about distracting Mom.
Once school let out, though, things had slowly shifted into the new normal stage. Not up to our Christmas heights, but then, who would expect that anyway in the summer? Our regulars were shopping again, although they carefully avoided a certain topic. That was okay, because what was there to say? Nothing could ever make it better, so ignoring it was a pretty good plan.
Or I could be overthinking all of this. The ups and downs might be seasonal.
Jewelry had turned into a big hit. We had many local artisans who displayed stock in our store. Fused glass. Polished stone. Hammered metals. We’d found that earrings sold best, followed by hoops and studs for piercings. I wasn’t big on wearing jewelry myself, but I still enjoyed helping people discover the perfect piece.
It was after seven before I was ready to go home. Mom and Dad had left around noon for Nags Head, leaving me to close. I’d done it before. Many times. It felt lonelier tonight, as if the knowledge that my parents weren’t around to call for backup made the procedure harder.
The house was quiet and still, the faint smell of paint lingering in the garage. Lots of contractors had shown up this week and taken over our house. The exterior had been power-washed. All internal sheetrock walls on the first floor had been repainted in warm taupe. I’d chosen the color. The real estate agent had pulled for eggshell white, but I’d held my ground and my parents conceded. Winning had made me feel better. White was boring. I didn’t want the next family to buy a boring house, even if they did turn right around and paint the walls eggshell white.
I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, headed out to the sunroom, and flopped onto the loveseat. “Grant?”
He appeared beside me in a chair. “Hello, Sara. You sound fatigued.”
“Something like that.” I gestured vaguely, as if knocking away his comment. “We’re going out.”
He eyed me warily. “For what?”
“Greasy comfort food. It’s not a date or anything. You can tell me what you discovered when you inventoried the computer.”
We drove way out into a rural part of the county, following a two-lane highway for miles before pulling onto a dirt parking lot.
“What is this place?”
I laughed at the stunned look on Grant’s face. “It’s called a fish camp.”
“Do you intend to eat here?”
“Yes. Flounder, shrimp, and fries. Mmmmm.”
“No vegetables?”
“Potatoes are a vegetable. Come on.”
It was noisy in the dining area, the long rows of picnic tables mostly full. Grant and I found two empty spots near the window overlooking Wallace Creek. After I’d ordered, I gave him a business-like nod. “What did you find on my brother’s laptop?”
“It held four major areas that you will need to resolve. His photographs, and there are thousands. A variety of apps, some of which he downloaded and some that he developed himself. There are a small number of folders containing content that he wrote, like papers and presentations. Finally, I found links to his social media accounts in the browser history.”
“Social media? He didn’t do all that much.”
“Perhaps not compared to some American teens I’ve served, but neither is the amount insignificant.”
It was this last area that captured my curiosity, since it had mostly been unknown to me. “We’ll start with social media,” I said as I watched over his shoulder. The waitress was approaching with my order and a pitcher to refill our glasses of tea.
Grant waited until we were alone again. “Sara, although you must lead this part of the project, we should sit together as we go over his accounts.”
“That sounds good. I’ll be at the shop from four to seven tomorrow, but we can look after that.” The shrimp was delicious. I gestured at my plate. “Do you want to share?”
“No. I shall do well with the tea.”
“Good. Is it okay if we talk about nothing important while we’re here? I’d like to hold off thinking about what you discovered until tomorrow.”
“I’m sure I can be quite competent at meaningless chitchat.”
I laughed. “I have no doubt.”
Status Report #7
