This and That was both dark and warm, so full of things that daylight from the street hardly made its way inside, but this reality was offset by the abundance of lamps, lit from all corners of the room. Their golden light highlighted the stacks of bookshelves and end tables, the velvet chairs and the plastic milk crates full of old records, photographs, postcards. Glass vases rested on every available surface, some full of seashells, others, buttons.
It reminded Mae of her old favorite thrift stores on Hawthorne Boulevard, except a touch less vintage, more heavy on old lady, coastal kitsch.
She was in love.
“Olive. This place is incredible.”
Olive’s face brightened. “Why, thank you. I do rather like it myself. Is there something you’re looking for, or did you just stop by to say hi?”
“Both. I really should have stopped by to say hi earlier. So, hi!”
She waved, even though they were standing three feet from each other, and Olive laughed.
“Oh, I knew I would like you. What you looking for, then?”
“A table.” Mae glanced around the shop. “And…you don’t by chance sell any rugs?”
“I do, actually, but I don’t always keep ‘em out front. Too easy of access for kids’ sticky fingers and their grownups’ spilled coffee. Here, follow me.”
Mae followed Olive through the narrow pathways of the store until they reached a door in the back corner. After a bit of fiddling with a jingling key ring, Olive opened it up, and Mae held in a gasp as she walked through.
The room was much bigger than she had expected, almost as big as the main room. Andalmostas cluttered, if less purposefully cozy.
“Store everything in here that’s not quite ready for the floor yet,” Olive said, fists on her hips again, “or that I don’t trust to be on the floor. The rugs are way there in the back, but if there are any tables here that look promising too, let me know.”
Distantly, the bell above the front door jingled.
“You just feel free to look around, all right? Make yourself at home. Let me know if you need anything.”
Mae didn’t waste any time in exploring.
None of the tables matched exactly what she was picturing—something heavy, circular, easy to wander around while anchoring the front of the shop—but magically, she fell in love with the first rug she saw.
It looked about the perfect length, full of turquoise and pinks, faded just the right amount.
It was perfect.
She took a slow walk around the main store while Olive chatted with her other customer; she tried to hold in her excitement. None of the tables out here quite met her exact dream either, but she discovered a little sea-green console table that would beperfectfor the shop’s bathroom, the last part of Mae’s remodel plans she had yet to truly tackle. But she had a vision, and this table was a good start.
“I have a delivery boy who can get these over to you early next week, if that works,” Olive said as she rung Mae up, and Mae’s elation deflated, just a bit.
“Oh.” She had walked here, not fully thinking through this part. “I was hoping to at least bring the rug over today. There’s no rush on the table. Maybe I can bring my car around?—”
“You know what?” Olive slapped Mae’s receipt onto the counter. A grin curved the corner of her mouth. “12 Main Street ain’t so far away. Think you and me could manage it?”
Mae looked around. “I wouldn’t want to make you leave the shop unattended.”
“Please.” Olive waved a hand once more. “It’s a Thursday in October, Mae. You’re the most exciting thing that’s going to happen to me today.”
And that was how Mae found herself struggling with one end of a rolled up rug while Olive led them down Main Street.
Olive was walking backwards and seemed hardly winded.
“Olive,” Mae panted. “This rug isheavy. Are you secretly ripped under that sweater?”
“Of course I am,” Olive answered, sounding offended. “I spend half my days moving furniture around. Old furniture, the kind that’s not made of particle board. Why wouldn’t I be ripped? Sixty-somethings can be ripped, you know. Hey, Cara! Cara, do you know who this is?”
Olive came to an abrupt halt, and Mae almost dropped her end of the rug. Again.
