Down and Out in Flamingo Beach (13 page)

“What's with the window boxes? What's with the geraniums and impatiens?”

“Don't they look pretty?” Joya said, trying to appease her. “It makes Joya's Quilts look festive and homey.”

“It looks like a little old lady's house.”

Granny took a few hesitant steps up the walkway then mounted the three little steps leading to the porch.

“I don't remember buying a wicker settee,” she muttered.

“You didn't. Chet and Harley were going to throw it out in the trash. It seemed perfectly good to me so I asked if I could have it. Doesn't it look pretty painted that nice rose color? It's a good place to display quilts and they're bound to catch the eyes of passersby. Did I tell you how well our sale did?”

“We've never had a sale. Didn't need one.”

Granny J was breathing raggedly now. Climbing the few steps and her fussing had taken its toll. She leaned against a post on the verandah and looked out onto the still-quiet Flamingo Row. It was Sunday morning and most everyone was at church. They should have been, too, except Joya thought the old lady wasn't ready for the long church service and the lengthy socializing afterward. She'd been right, Granny needed to rest.

“What are those iron things sticking up out of the ground over there?” Granny J asked. “A body's liable to trip and hurt themselves. Since it's my sidewalk we'll probably get sued.”

Joya looked in the direction her grandmother was pointing. She'd asked the same question earlier that week.

“Those will eventually be flamingos, Gran. They're being created in honor of the centennial. The city commissioned a sculptor from up north to make one hundred flamingos. They're to be strategically placed through the town and citizens are invited to dress them. They'll go up for auction shortly.”

Granny J snorted. “What nonsense.”

“Not nonsense, they're potential money-makers for the Beach. There'll be a prize for the best-dressed bird. There's a lot of press associated with those birds. I'm thinking I could talk the city and the creator into putting one on our front lawn.”

Granny looked horrified. A hand clapped over her mouth. “Whatever for?”

“That flamingo will bring us business and we need money, Gran.”

She snorted again. “I can't imagine who would want to spend money on a tarted-up flamingo?”

“Plenty of people. Some cities got big money for the pigs and cows they auctioned, so why not Flamingo Beach? I'm exhausted.”

Joya flopped onto the wicker two-seater hoping Gran would get the message and join her. But no, Granny J remained standing, a hand on the railing, trying her best not to huff and puff.

“Fine, we can have a pink flamingo on the front lawn if you think it would help business,” she said eventually. “But it's got to wear a quilted dress and a sun bonnet that I make.”

“You got it, Gran.” Even though she was clearly tired, Granny's enthusiasm was slowly returning. The senior citizen had gone through quite a bit these last few weeks. “You can design the outfit yourself and make it. Maybe we'll even win the prize.”

“We'll win. Just wait until you see what I have in mind.”

This was more like the old Gran she was used to, positive, obstinate and determined. Joya wondered what her reaction would be when she saw the store's interior and what a difference the repositioning of furniture made. And that was the tip of the iceberg—when construction began tomorrow, Gran would really start yelping.

Thoughts of change brought to mind Derek. Joya's cheeks grew heated at the thought of the unbridled passion they'd shared, their lack of inhibition and the fact that they'd been so in sync with each other's needs.

Gran took her keys out of the ancient white leather purse she carried and struggled with the front door. Joya went to help her.

“Don't treat me like an invalid,” she said. “I'm perfectly capable of opening up my own store. I've been doing it for years.”

Clamping her lips shut, Joya backed off.

H
arley Mancini stepped out of his illegally parked vehicle and onto the cobblestoned road.

“Welcome home, Mrs. Hamill,” he called. “Hi Joya. Glad to see you back. Did you get our flowers, Mrs. Hamill?”

“Yes, I did, thank you. I'll be sending you a note.” Gran finally got the door opened and preceded Joya inside.

“Oh, my God, what happened here?” she said, clutching her heart.

Joya who was right behind her, and who had been anticipating a reaction, placed an arm around Granny J's waist.

“Gran, I've organized a few things and moved some furniture so the merchandise shows to its best advantage.”

“You call this organized? This isn't the store I remember. It's a mess.” The old lady whirled around, clutching her heart again. Joya tightened her hand around Gran's waist.

As she stepped inside the store, Joya realized why her grandmother had reacted in such an outraged manner. The place
was
a mess. Quilts had been swept off the shelves and lay in tangles on the floor. The walls were defaced by ugly graffiti and some of the furniture was broken. Even one of the sewing machines was smashed.

Joya gulped in a deep breath. She needed to stay calm. Her first priority was to get Granny seated—and fast. She spotted an old armchair still intact and led the shocked old lady over.

“I'll get you a glass of water, Gran, and then I'm calling the police.”

“Police?” Gran repeated still in shock. “Why would we need the police?”

“Because we've been broken into. That window wasn't open when I left.”

“I'll call the police, you tend to your grandmother,” a deep male voice said from behind them.

Joya turned to see Derek standing at the entrance of the store surveying the destruction.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Get your grandmother water, and I'll answer the question.”

Yes, yes, Gran should be her first priority. Joya hurried into the back room, not sure what state that would be in.

That room was in the same disastrous condition. It looked like a whirlwind had hit it. Someone had swept everything off the shelves and torn out the pages of Gran's ledgers. Paperwork and ripped-up receipts were strewn all over the wooden floors. Joya found a glass, picked her way around the debris, and found the water cooler. She filled up the glass and hurried back.

Derek was on the phone talking to the police when Joya handed her grandmother the water.

“Take slow sips,” she instructed.

Granny J just held onto the glass staring vacantly out at the room.

“You need to get over here on the double,” Joya overheard Derek say to the police. “Yeah, it looks like there was a break-in. No, no one's hurt.”

After Derek hung up he stepped over the destruction on the floor and came toward them.

“Mrs. Hamill, why don't you go to bed? Joya and I will take it from here.”

“I'm not an invalid,” Granny J said, bristling, but she didn't protest when Joya took both of her hands and helped her out of the chair.

“Take a nap for a couple of hours, Gran, while we deal with the cops and file a report.”

Joya helped her grandmother around the debris and toward the door leading to the private entrance. It took her almost half an hour to get Granny J settled because, emotionally exhausted as the old lady was, she just couldn't fall asleep. Joya had to trick her into taking a sleeping pill.

When she returned to the store, a patrol car with Lionel and Greg was already there, and a small crowd had gathered on the verandah talking. Among them were Peter and Dustin Millard, owners of the Vintage Place next door and Chet and Harley from the flower shop.

Derek was still standing in the middle of the store where she'd left him, tight-lipped and wired.

“How are you holding up?” he asked, placing an arm around Joya's shoulders and hugging her close.

Tears stung the back of Joya's lids as she pressed her face into his shirt. Her heart hurt, but she still registered his familiar scent and welcomed his comfort. Derek smelled clean and felt safe. Right now he was the only support she had.

“I've been better,” Joya sniffed. “Gran sure as heck didn't need to come home to this.”

“I'll handle the officers if you'd like,” Derek offered. “I'd hoped to speak with you about sprucing up the store's exterior, that's why I came by, but that will have to wait.”

“I thought we were going to renovate the interior only?” Joya said, distracted, although at that moment she had more than renovations on her mind.

“We talked briefly about keeping all the stores' exteriors the same, just adding a few unique touches to define what they're about. For example, the bright colors and artistic signage tells you All About Flowers is a flower shop.”

It was an interesting concept, but right now there were other things on her mind, like this latest act of vandalism. Someone must have it in for Joya and her grandmother.

Derek, hearing the cop cars pull up out front, met the officers on the verandah and escorted them inside. Greg and Lionel stood taking in the mess.

“How come your alarm didn't go off?” Lionel asked. “We'll need the names of everyone who has keys or knows the security code.” He had a pad out.

“I have keys and so does my grandmother. Portia, our part-time employee has keys. And I've given keys to Shore Construction because they're starting work tomorrow. The alarm wasn't on.”

Derek spoke up, “Shore Construction would be me and I assure you I had nothing to do with this.”

“That window was open when I came in.” She pointed to the open window and the chiffon curtain fluttering in the breeze.

Greg Santana navigated his way around the tossed items and came toward her. “First things first. We get a detective over to dust for fingerprints.” He was already speaking into a radio summoning help.

“Whoever it was came through that window rather than the front door, you think?” Lionel asked, stating the obvious. “Please don't touch anything until the detective gets here.”

Despite Joya's determination to stay strong, her eyes brimmed over with tears. Derek handed her a handkerchief from his back pocket, and she blew her nose loudly. She wanted to be strong, but it just wasn't happening.

Two hours later, after being grilled by a detective and having had the store dusted for fingerprints, Joya went off to check on Granny J. Finding the old lady sleeping, she returned to the store. Derek was still there trying to put things back together.

Side by side they worked, reassembling furniture and putting items in the trash and through it all, the chemistry between them was palpable. If Derek glanced over at her it was as if she'd been zapped by a lightning bolt. Just having him here was a big help and it wasn't only because he provided muscle.

How could she ever hope to pay him back? Derek would be insulted if she offered him money. Maybe…it was just an idea. Maybe she could ask him to escort her to the wedding. He could probably use an evening out.

She waited until they'd cleaned up almost everything before posing the question.

“What are you doing next Saturday evening?” Joya asked.

Derek folded a quilt with a Log Cabin pattern and placed it on a shelf. “Next Saturday is a long ways away. What did you have in mind?”

“How would you like to go with me to a wedding?”

“Quen and Chere's wedding?”

He made it sound like he knew them.

“Yes, that's the one.”

“Let me think about it,” Derek said.

And instead of leaving it alone she countered. “What's there to think about?”

“I was invited but said no.”

Joya's mouth opened and shut. She was surprised that Derek even knew the bride and groom.

“I'm sorry I asked, since obviously you'd already made up your mind you weren't going.”

There was a twinkle in his brown eyes when he said, “I could be persuaded to change my mind. I didn't fancy going solo.”

She brightened considerably and flirted right back. “Good. If your arm can be twisted and since I told them I'd go, would you consider being my guest?”

Derek touched the tip of a finger to his lips. “I might be persuaded to be your date in exchange for a kiss.”

“Okay.” She came toward him, got on tiptoe and brushed her lips against his. “There.”

Derek whipped a proprietary arm around her. “You can do better than that.”

His tongue was in her mouth before she knew it, and she was enjoying his passion-filled kiss. Their tongues dipped and danced, melded and collided. Derek made love to her mouth just as he'd done to her body with an expertise and tenderness she'd never experienced before.

A throat cleared behind them. “Uh, excuse me. Joya, we'll need your signature on this report.”

Lionel held out the police report she'd filled out earlier. She scanned it quickly and, convinced everything was in order, signed it and handed it back to Lionel.

After Lionel left them she returned to the earlier conversation, “You never did give me an answer,” she said to Derek.

“Okay I'll go. But only because you asked.”

There was nothing left to do now but lock up the store. And this time she was definitely putting on the alarm. She again thanked Derek for his help and went off to check on Gran.

 

One week later, construction at Joya's Quilts was underway. Joya and Derek were now butting heads about the opposing visions each had for the store. At times Granny J was barely speaking to them. She walked around in her bedroom slippers huffing, snorting and nixing every suggestion as “plain wrong.”

Derek wanted to do things one way. Joya another. But eventually Joya did come around to Derek's way of thinking because, much as she hated to admit it, Derek's way made better sense. His suggestions were ultimately more pleasing to the eye, more practical and less expensive.

The police were still stumped by the break-in. You'd think in a town the size of Flamingo Beach someone had to have seen something. But so far, no leads. What the police had done was increase surveillance, and both the
Flamingo Beach Chronicle
and the
Southern Tribune
had published articles about the break-in. Now all of the store owners were being extra careful about locking up and setting their alarms.

While the store was being renovated, business was being conducted from the porch. Joya had finally convinced Granny J that anything that had sat in the store for over six months needed to be on sale.

“It's a good time to unload stuff that's not selling,” Joya wheedled. “Call up the people whose things you took on consignment and let them know what we're doing. If they're not happy with it, then have them take their quilts back.”

After a great deal of discussion, Granny J had reluctantly conceded that sales were a good idea. She saw how much business and enthusiasm they generated and so stopped giving Joya flack. And, during this time of renovation, the quilt guild held their meetings at Eileen Brown's.

The women had loved Joya's idea of making commemorative quilts, and every single person had gone to work. Those without day jobs were making quilts like crazy and practically working around the clock. Eileen had made another quilt for Molly Williams to replace the one that had been damaged, and although Joya had lost her shirt on it, Molly was pleased with the new quilt and that was what mattered.

Meanwhile Portia, the part-time worker was a big help. She showed up on time and did whatever Joya asked her to do. Granny J was still in recuperation mode and spending minimal time on the premises. At times it was just Joya and Portia working from a porch that didn't have air conditioning. But items were moving and that was what mattered.

One afternoon when there was a lull in sales, Joya and Portia sat on the verandah enjoying a cool glass of lemonade. On the Row, workmen were positioning the flamingos in optimum spots. A man who looked to be the artist was supervising them.

“Hey,” Joya called to him. “I wouldn't mind having one of those birds on my property.”

He was fiftyish with a long graying braid.

“I'll have to clear it with the city,” he called back. “One would look real nice on your front porch don't you think?”

“All About Flowers right next door is owned by the mayor's son. We could erect the flamingo on our joint property line.” Joya made a private note to talk to Harley and have him talk to Chet about the idea.

She turned to Portia. “When does school end?”

“In a couple of weeks. I'm trying to decide whether to go on for a BA or not. If that happens I can't continue to work in the shop.”

“Why?”

“Because I'd be leaving town.”