Good Buy Girls 05 - All Sales Final (17 page)

“It’s all yours,” Maggie said.

Summer clapped her hands and looked delighted. Yeah, it was definitely weird having her here.

“So what’s the word on the skeleton in your house?” Ginger asked.

“Sam’s colleague from the Richmond PD is trying to identify him,” Maggie said. “As far as I know, there’s been
no word yet on who he is—er, was—or how he came to be in our basement.”

“You’re not still going to live there, are you?” Sissy asked. “I would have the willies, knowing there had been a dead body in my house.”

“Don’t be silly.” Lizzie waved a dismissive hand. “Back in the day most people died at home in their own beds. Most of the houses in St. Stanley have had at least one dead body or more in them.”

“Oh, ick,” Summer said. “I’m telling Tyler we need to build a new home.”

“You might want to stop by the library and check the old microfilm,” Claire said. “The newspapers back in the day reported on a lot of the local goings-on, so you could probably find out quite a bit about the Dixons and their friends. If he was well known I bet someone wrote about him.”

“That’s an excellent idea,” Maggie said. “Can I come by after I close the shop tonight?”

“Yes. I’m working the evening shift, so I can help,” Claire said.

The bells on the door rang and Celeste Toovey entered the shop with her daughter.

Maggie made to go over and help them, but Joanne with baby Patience strapped to her front motioned for her to stay put.

“I got this,” she said.

“Really? Because I would be so happy to take a break—”

“Just two more dresses,” Lizzie interrupted. She pointed to the curtained-off area that acted as a dressing room. “Go.”

Maggie tried to flounce away but the dress was too long and it just made her look like a little girl playing dress up, having a fit. She pulled the curtain closed behind her and glared at the last two dresses.

Why was this so difficult? She hadn’t spent one-tenth of the time picking out her dress for her wedding to Charlie. Why was she having so much anxiety?

She stepped out of the slinky blue number with a sigh. Maybe she needed to see a therapist to get to the root of her dress dilemma. Could they do a quick fix on her in time for her to pick a dress and get married? She had a feeling that would be a no.

Maybe if she could just get one thing nailed down, like her dress or the flowers, then everything else would fall into place. It was clear that Sam figured if the two of them and the pastor were a go then they were all good. She supposed in the grand scheme of things he was right, but she knew she needed a little more pomp and circumstance to make it feel official. Plus, the mothers would never let her hear the end of it.

She pulled the sunflower-yellow dress over her head and prayed for a miracle. It came, but not in the yellow dress. Rather, it manifested in a surprise visit by Blue Dixon.

Chapter 17

Maggie heard the bells on the door jangle and she knew the Good Buy Girls would help whoever came in, but still it rankled that she was stuck here, trying on dresses when she should be manning her shop.

There were a few giggles and she wondered who it was that was charming the ladies. She even heard Summer’s unique cackle so she figured it had to be a man. She moved the curtain aside to see if it was Sam. It was not.

Blue Dixon was holding court in her shop and he looked more than pleased to be in the midst of a flock of pretty-feathered ladies. Maggie wondered what had induced him to leave Spring Gardens and visit her. She knew they had talked about his checking out her suit collection but she really didn’t think he’d come around.
Then again, maybe he’d had another altercation with Dennis Applebaum.

“Blue,” she said as she stepped out of the curtained area. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Afternoon, Maggie,” he said. His blue eyes twinkled at her as he gestured at the ladies seated around him. “It appears I timed my arrival well.”

She raised an eyebrow at him in what was supposed to be a quelling look but his grin only deepened.

“Your enchanting mother was just telling me that you are on a quest for a wedding dress,” he said.

Maggie lifted the flouncy skirt of her yellow dress and gave them all a twirl. She could tell by the appalled expressions on all of their faces that this one was a unanimous reject.

“You look like a pat of butter,” Summer said.

Maggie glared at her.

“What?” Summer asked. “Aren’t girlfriends supposed to be honest?”

“Tact is always appreciated, too,” Ginger said. “Besides she really looks more like a gob of mustard.”

Summer blinked at Ginger and then hooted with laughter.

“Really, I thought she looked more like an ear of corn,” Claire said.

This time they all laughed.

“Well, thank you all so very much,” Maggie said in a huff. She lifted her skirts and made to disappear into the dressing room when Blue Dixon stopped her.

“My dear, do not let your friends’ teasing bother you
for you are a vision in whatever you choose to wear. With that mane of glorious red hair and those striking blue-green eyes, you’ll have your man tongue-tied and besotted with his first look at you.”

“Aw,” Joanne sighed. “That was lovely.”

“It was,” Maggie said. “Thank you, Blue.”

He gave her a small nod.

“But that is not,” Lizzie said. She waved at Maggie’s dress as if she could make it vanish. “Go try on the last one.”

The final dress, an A-line lavender number, did not win any votes for best dress either but at least it didn’t warrant the endless food comparisons and fits of giggles.

By the time Maggie changed back into her clothes for the day, the crowd had dispersed as Joanne had to go put the baby down, Claire had to get back to work and Summer had to mind her own shop.

“Don’t you fret,” Ginger said as she gave Maggie a hug. “We’ll find your dress.”

“I don’t see why you won’t wear a white gown,” Maggie’s mother chided her. “This would all be so much easier if you’d just go traditional.”

“Yeah, and you’d look like a corpse,” Sissy said. “White’s not your color. Stick to your guns, Sis.”

Maggie hugged her mother and sister and shooed them out the door but not before her mother gave Blue one last flirtatious glance that he returned much to Maggie’s horror.

“Do not romance my mother,” she said to Blue. “You have enough ladies on your dance card.”

“Yes, but I’ve always been partial to strawberry blondes,” he said.

“It’s a dye job,” Maggie snapped.

Blue’s smile deepened. “I like a woman who is invested in her appearance.”

Maggie rolled her eyes. “I’m pretty sure you did not come by the shop to hit on my mother. So what can I do for you?”

“Actually, I’m looking to do a little business with you,” he said. “You consign items, correct?”

“Yes,” Maggie said. “Why?”

“After they passed away, Ida and Imogene’s things were sorted and what didn’t go to charity was put in a storage unit. There is a lot of furniture and dishes, some artwork and a few boxes of letters and photographs. I thought since you consign things, you might sell them for me.”

“Are you sure?” Maggie asked. “Those are your family’s belongings.”

“I have everything that I want to keep, which are mostly memories now,” he said. His tone sounded wistful. “When you get to be my age, you realize that things don’t have as much value as moments in time. Memories can be savored forever but things, well, they just take up space and need to be dusted.”

Maggie laughed. “I suspect you’re right. I’d be happy to consign anything you’d like.”

“Excellent,” he said. “Tyler Fawkes is filling up the back of his truck as we speak and he’ll be dropping the items off later today.”

“You were pretty sure I’d take everything,” Maggie said.

“You’re a woman of business,” he said. “Besides you like me.”

Maggie smiled. “I do at that.”

“Put in a good word for me with your mother then,” he said. He put on the straw hat that rested on the counter beside him. “I’d be happy to escort her to your nuptials.”

“I . . .” Maggie stuttered but Blue didn’t wait to hear what she had to say. With a tip of his brim, he left her standing in the center of her shop, completely flummoxed.

*   *   *

“I’m just not sure he’s exactly dateable,” Maggie said into her phone while Tyler Fawkes unloaded box after box into her storeroom.

“Maggie, I am old enough to know my own mind,” her mother said. “Besides I live in Florida. It’s not like we could start up anything, you know, unless he moved.”

“He’s not going to move,” Maggie said. “He has it too good in Spring Gardens.”

“Hmm,” her mother hummed and then executed a swift subject change. “Will you be home for dinner?”

“No, I’m going to stop by the library after I close up the shop.”

“All right, we’ll leave a plate for you. I think Sissy is roasting a chicken.”

“Great, thanks,” Maggie said. She made a mental note to pick up a sandwich from the deli on her way to
the library. She’d had Sissy’s chicken before. It was generally as parched as a desert in want of rain.

Tyler passed her as she switched off her phone. He was using a handcart to wheel in a vanity table and matching stool. He set them in the corner of the shop next to the tri-fold mirror that fastened to the top of the vanity.

“That is a beautiful piece,” Maggie said.

“A classic white Louis XVI–style vanity,” Tyler said.

Maggie gave him a surprised look and he gave his unshaven chin a rueful scratch as he explained, “Summer has one just like it.”

“I thought for a minute there you were getting into antiques,” Maggie said.

“No, I invest straight up in high tech,” he said. “I do love the gadgets.” He pointed back to the vanity. “You’re going to need a locksmith to look at that. One of the drawers is locked but I didn’t see a key to go with it, unless it’s in one of those boxes.”

Maggie nodded. She knew just who to call. “Thanks, Tyler. How much do I owe you?”

“No worries, Blue already paid me,” he said. “Good thing, too, because Summer says I’m not allowed to charge friends for services rendered.”

Maggie blinked at him. He scratched his beard again as an awkward silence fell between them.

“About Summer.” He paused to clear his throat. “Thanks for letting her join you gals in your bargain hunting thing. It means the world to her.”

Maggie shrugged. “We’re still in the probationary period.”

“I know,” he said with a nod. “But she’s changed. You’ll see.”

He looked so eager that Maggie didn’t have the heart to tell him that she still found the whole thing weird. Did she see Tyler and Summer joining them for backyard barbecues? No, but then she’d never thought she’d live in the Dixon house, either, so life clearly had some surprises in store for her.

She picked up her phone and sent a text to the one person she knew would likely be able to get the stuck vanity drawer open. Then she found her box cutter and started unloading the haul from the Dixon house.

She had hoped that the boxes containing letters and photos would give her a clue as to the identity of the skeleton in the root cellar. There was nothing. Mostly, it was just clippings and photos of events that Ida and Imogene had been involved with over the years, such as the ladies’ league, the local gardening club, etc . . .

The dishes were vintage as were many of the tchotchkes, like old glass ashtrays and a collection of porcelain dolls that Maggie knew would sell to the collectors who loved retro. She had recently begun selling items online, which was where most of her specialty items were sold.

She was just sorting a trunk full of old clothes when the door opened and her favorite boy genius walked in. Maxwell Button, in his early twenties with advanced degrees in art, physics and law, was one of Maggie’s favorite people and in many ways the son she’d never had.

“So, what is this I hear that you and Sam are going
to get hitched at my old place of employment, the Frosty Freeze, with free dipped cones for everyone?” he asked.

“What?” Maggie squawked and smacked her head on the lid of the trunk as she rose out of it. “Ouch!”

“Oh, sorry,” Max said. “I was just kidding.”

“Very funny,” Maggie said. She rubbed the back of her head and frowned at him. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to talk Bianca into tying the knot like that?”

“No, we’ll have it at the house,” he said. “She’s pretty much had the whole thing planned out since she was five. All I have to do is show up in a tux.”

“Oh.” Maggie frowned, feeling a sudden spurt of envy at Bianca’s decisiveness. “Still planning it for December?”

“She always wanted to be a winter bride,” Max said. “It works for me. I want to take her to Paris as a wedding gift and this gives me time to save.”

“Oh, she’ll love that,” Maggie said. She crossed the room and gave him a tight hug. “I’m so happy for you.”

“Thanks,” he said.

He grabbed at his short black hair as if he could pull it down over his face and hide. It seemed to Maggie it was just yesterday that he was the lanky, long-haired boy handing out cones at the Frosty Freeze while he studied quantum physics and Botticelli in his endless life quest for information.