Good Buy Girls 05 - All Sales Final (5 page)

Maggie met his stare, and she knew he had felt the same thing she had.

“You felt it, too,” she said.

“When I toured the house after it was left to me, yeah,” he said. “I thought it was a draft but nothing was open.”

“Is that why you never lived there?” Maggie asked.

“Nah, spirits don’t bother me,” he said. “Especially if it was Ida and Imogene. They loved me like a little brother, that’s why they left the house to me.”

“Then why not live there?”

Blue looked sly. “I’d miss all of my lady friends.”

Maggie laughed. He was a charming old coot, she had to give him that.

“Do you think there is anyone else who might be haunting the house?” Maggie asked.

“The girls never mentioned it if there was,” Blue said. “No, I’d say it has to be one of them. They were born in that house and died in it. It’s natural they wouldn’t want to leave.”

“Wait, they died in it?” Maggie asked.

“Well, not ‘in it,’ no,” he said. “Ida passed away at the county hospital after a heart attack and Imogene died a few days later of the same thing. She even had the same room, with the same time on the clock when she passed.”

Maggie had heard about the sisters’ demise. It had been assumed that Imogene, the caretaker of the two,
had passed once Ida no longer needed her and she was free. But Maggie wondered if it was more that with Ida gone, Imogene had lost her purpose.

“I’ve heard that there are spirits that refuse to cross over and attach themselves to a place. Maybe Ida and Imogene were too attached to their childhood home to leave it,” he said.

He sounded so matter-of-fact about it that Maggie almost started thinking it was so. She shook her head.

“Wait, I never said there was a ghost,” she protested.

“Well,
you
didn’t but your cat did,” he argued. “Cats are especially sensitive to these things.”

“Maybe it was a snake in the basement,” she said.

“No, it was a ghost. It has to be,” he said. “Just wait ’til I share this story with the ladies.”

Maggie frowned at him. “You’re just mining this for material to score with the birds.”

“Now is that nice?” he asked. “Here I am, trying to help you out.”

Maggie rose from her seat. “You mean you’re trying to help yourself out. Listen, if you think of anything that I should know, you can always find me at my shop My Sister’s Closet.”

“Oh, that’s yours?” he asked. “I might be in the market for a new suit.”

“I have suits,” Maggie said. She opened her purse and dug out a card. She handed it to him. “If you think of any family history that might be relevant, I could be persuaded to offer a discount.”

“I may just take you up on that,” he said. The twinkle
in his eye let Maggie know she was probably going to see Blue Dixon again and soon. “You know, you might want to talk to Ruth Crenshaw.”

“The head of the historical society?”

“She knows the history of that house better than anyone.”

“I hadn’t thought of going over there,” Maggie said. “Thanks, Mr. Dixon.”

He lowered one bushy white eyebrow at her.

“I’m sorry,” Maggie said with a smile. “Blue.”

“That’s better,” he said. “Tell that fiancé of yours to stay on his toes. A fine gal like you might make a man rethink his commitment to bachelorhood.”

Maggie laughed. “Now I know you’re teasing me. I suspect you are perfectly content in your harem.”

Blue grinned. “For now.”

It suddenly became very clear to Maggie why Blue had such a horde of honeys buzzing around him.

With a wave, Maggie left him and headed into the facility. At the door, she saw two of the ladies who had been sitting with Blue eyeing her with suspicion. She flashed the diamond on her left hand just to put them at ease.

“Blue is so kind to give me and my fiancé advice on the house we’re buying, isn’t he?” she asked.

“Stand down, Eloise, she’s not competition,” the one with the pink sausage curls muttered to her companion, who had dyed her bob a severe shade of black.

“We could have taken her, Suzy,” Eloise said. She gave Maggie a once-over that clearly found her wanting, and Maggie had to bite her cheek to keep from smiling.

“He is a dear man,” Suzy said and she patted Maggie’s arm. “You have a lovely day now.”

Her polite dismissal could not have been clearer if she had held the door open and put her orthopedic shoe up against Maggie’s backside.

*   *   *

It was a short drive from Spring Gardens to Maggie’s shop. She debated stopping in at the historical society but it was time to open up and she liked to keep her hours as regular as possible.

The morning was spent haggling with Mrs. Krasinski over her Grindley china. It was a pattern discontinued in 1950. It had gold scalloped edges with purple flowers on blue vines around the edge and a burst of purple, red and blue flowers in the center. It was an eyepopper, no question.

Despite her love of all things vintage, Maggie did not love this china pattern and she seriously doubted she’d be able to sell it. Mrs. Krasinski, however, loved her wedding china and thought it was the epitome of class and good taste.

Unfortunately her son’s wife had bought her own china when she got married and their two grown sons couldn’t care less about china as they were just settling into married lives with young children and had no time or thought for their grandmother’s precious heirlooms.

“This pattern is very exclusive,” Mrs. Krasinski said as she unwrapped a salad plate from its cocoon of bubble wrap and held it out for Maggie’s inspection.

The comment was unnecessary as Maggie had suffered through this discussion before. She wasn’t even sure why Mrs. Krasinksi was so hot to sell the china. Her husband had left her a nice chunk of money so it wasn’t as if she needed the cash. So why was she so willing to turn it over to Maggie to sell?

“Mrs. Krasinski,” Maggie said. “You know my clientele is not really the china shopping sort and a full service for twelve including platters and tureens is not going to move unless I break it up.”

Mrs. Krasinski gasped and put her hand over her heart as if Maggie had just blasted her with a poison dart.

“‘Break it up’?”

“Not into pieces,” Maggie assured her. “But into smaller lots. Instead of service for twelve, I might have better luck moving it as three sets of four.”

Mrs. Krasinksi looked a little woozy. “Parcel it out? Who would get the dessert bowls? How could you divvy up the sugar bowl and creamer pitcher?”

Maggie put her hand over Mrs. Krasinksi’s age-spotted one and gave it a quick, reassuring squeeze.

“Mrs. Krasinski—Eleanor—why are you trying to sell it when it is so clear that you love it?” Maggie asked.

Eleanor Krasinksi gave Maggie a wobbly smile. “I was hoping that it would prove to be of such value that my son and grandsons would reconsider and beg me not to sell it.”

“So, you’re hoping to incite some interest by putting fear into their hearts that they’ll be losing out on a cash cow, is that it?” Maggie asked.

“Yes,” Mrs. Krasinksi admitted. She gave Maggie a
sheepish look, letting her know that she knew she was being foolish. “I know it’s silly, but when I picked those plates out in 1950, just before my wedding, I had a happy little daydream that one day I would be at my child’s house and we would be setting the holiday dinner table with my china that I passed down.”

“I don’t think that’s silly at all,” Maggie said. “I think it’s lovely.”

Eleanor sighed and wrapped up her salad plate. “No, it’s just an old woman’s foolishness.”

“Maybe,” Maggie said. “But it doesn’t make it any less lovely. Tell you what, how about I do some research on this pattern. Maybe we’ll find out that it is exclusive, and maybe we’ll have to let certain people know that their grandmother is about to sell certain pieces of their inheritance for a song.”

Eleanor’s eyes narrowed at Maggie. “You’re sneaky.”

Maggie shrugged.

“I like it,” Eleanor said. “Let me know when you start the rumor so I can put my poker face on.”

“Will do,” Maggie said. “Oh, you’d better leave that piece with me so I can make it look authentic in case one of your grandbabies comes in here demanding to know why I’m absconding with the family china.”

Eleanor looked worried and Maggie added, “I’ll guard it with my life, I promise.”

Eleanor carefully checked its wrapping before handing it to Maggie. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Maggie said.

Eleanor Krasinski turned to leave and then she turned
back. “Oh, I nearly forgot, if you’re looking for a place to pick out your china, you should go to the Lenox outlet in Dumontville. They have amazing prices, and you don’t have time to dillydally. The big day is coming up, isn’t it?”

Maggie felt a shiver move down her spine. “Yes, in a few weeks.”

“Have you finished your registry?”

“Almost,” Maggie lied. She hadn’t registered for diddly-squat. “With Sam and I merging houses, there didn’t seem to be a need to register for too much.”

Eleanor looked appalled. “That’s exactly why you
do
need to register, to start a new life together with new things so you’re not just dragging the broken-down bits of your old life along with you.”

Maggie frowned as she watched Eleanor leave. Broken-down bits of her old life? Is that what her miscellaneous collection of cookware and dishes represented, all that was wrong with who she had been? She had thought the years she had scraped by with her daughter, Laura, were actually some of her finest. She had learned how to make a good life for them without any of the extras.

Did she really need to throw away all of the strong and serviceable goods she had collected over the years just because she was starting a new life with Sam? Did he want her to do that? She could feel the hair on the back of her neck rising as she felt a balk coming on. This needed to be nipped in the bud and quick.

She circled the counter and put Mrs. Krasinski’s plate on a shelf where it would be safe while she hatched her
nefarious plan to help Eleanor out. Then she picked up the cordless phone receiver and dialed Sam’s number.

“Collins,” he answered.

“Do we need to register for china?” Maggie asked.

“Huh?”

“How about linens?” Maggie asked. “Do we need new sheets and towels? Whose bed are we going to use at the new house or are we going to have separate rooms?”

“No!” Sam barked.

“No, what?” Maggie asked. “No to china, linens or—”

“Separate beds,” Sam interrupted. “I don’t care about any of the rest of it.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he said. “Now explain. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Mrs. Krasinski,” Maggie said.

“Trying to unload her china again?”

“Yes, but we made progress this time,” Maggie said.

“Are we getting stuck with the china?” Sam asked.

“No, but I’m going to research it and convince her grandsons that they are missing out on a veritable gold mine,” she said.

“This is when I stop listening because it sounds like you are doing something illegal,” he said.

“More like charitable,” Maggie said. “In that I am trying to give an older lady who loves her china some peace of mind.”

“That does sound like something you would do,” he conceded. “So why the panic about registering?”

“Because we’re getting married in a matter of weeks and I don’t have a dress or a place for the reception or anything,” Maggie said. “I’m a failure as a bride.”

“We just bought a house,” he said. “You’ve been busy. I bet everything falls into place now.”

“I hope so,” Maggie said. “I’m taking the girls over to see the house tonight. Care to meet us?”

“I can’t. I’m on patrol,” he said. “But while you’re there, you might want to see which of our beds would fit better in the master bedroom.”

His voice was low and seductive and Maggie felt her pulse kick up a notch.

“Nice to know your priorities are perfectly in order,” she said.

“Natch,” he agreed. “Call me later?”

“Of course,” she said. “I have to tell you about my visit with Blue Dixon.”

“You have been busy,” he said. “Nuts, Deputy Wilson is signaling me.”

“Go, you don’t want Dot getting mad at you,” she said.

“No, indeed, but we’ll talk later,” he said.

Maggie hung up, thinking Sam had sounded more like a cop than a fiancé and then realized she must be crazy in love with the man because it charmed her way more than it should have.

Chapter 5

“And this is the dining room,” Maggie said as she led Ginger and Claire into the room off of the kitchen. Joanne was home with the baby and couldn’t join them as she was trying to keep little Patience on a schedule.

“Oh, I like this,” Ginger said. “There’s plenty of room for your family and a lot of guests if you got it into your head to host a holiday dinner for your nearest and dearest.”

“You don’t think it’s too big?” Maggie asked.

“No,” Claire said. “It’s perfect.”

“What about the backyard?” Maggie asked. “Do you think Sam and I could keep up with that? I mean it’s really big and we both work.”

Ginger and Claire exchanged a look.