The Jewel Box (43 page)

We shopped four straight hours before breaking for a bite to eat. Nikki slowly savored every bite while I rushed through the meal. Then we were off again, my feet begging for mercy worse than the day of my shop’s grand opening. Finally just as stores were drawing shades, Nikki found the perfect ring—a brilliant square solitaire. Naturally, she would bring Tad to get his opinion, but we both knew this was the one.

I relished our time together as single women knowing things would change once she began life with her own family. Having been an only child, Nikki wanted lots of little McDougals. Tad agreed. They hired a wedding planner, bumping my involvement to minimal. Thank goodness. Melancholy interlaced my happiness as I dropped her off without lingering long, due to my feet threatening to mutiny.

After taking an extra long foot soak and relaxing bubble bath, I got a sudden urge to drive thirty minutes to Galveston to make sure my shop had been properly locked. I threw on my staples; a sundress and some va-va-voom lipstick.

Turned out the alarm was indeed set. I disarmed it, turned on my stereo, and then sat in my Queen Anne armchair to enjoy the tranquility of my place. It was worth the drive to let my eyes drift over all the unusual pieces Beau salvaged and I refinished—items forever tagged “Display Only.” The chime on my grandfather clock revealed midnight was about to arrive, bringing with it another May ninth. When would that date stop being so damn meaningful? “Let go, Cherie.” I attempted to stop the storm of memories rushing through me. Forcing myself to mentally change subjects, I debated whether to drive home to Clear Lake or sleep upstairs on my twin bed in the room adjoining my office. Even with the shop’s alarm system and the police station only blocks away, I never slept as well in the shop
as I did at home. I stretched for a minute, trying to decide. That’s when I heard a noise outside. I did a freeze frame and listened judiciously in case my hearing was playing tricks on me. Assuming it was only the wind, I relaxed somewhat while slowly walking across the hardwood floor toward my phone. Then came a loud tapping at my front door. The police station was on speed dial, but I was shaking too much to press a button.

“Got any Cokes in there, Blondie?” Gabriel yelled.

The sound of his voice ignited the slow burning fire he had lit inside me years earlier. A flame that time and distance hadn’t been able to extinguish. My heart was racing wildly and my body was trembling, but I felt amazingly calm. I took several deep breaths, tried to brush goose bumps from my arms, and then walked to the door without stumbling. It had been four years since I last saw him, but besides gaining half a pound, he still looked the same as he stood smiling through his sexy moustache. He raked hair from his forehead while I punched in the security code and unlocked the dead bolt.

“I’m fresh out of your favorite beverage.” I opened the door.

“Oh, but you’re definitely the real thing.” He reached to hug me.

It was our first awkward hug. What was he doing, waltzing back into my life after all these years?

He put his hand behind his neck, tugging at it as though he was trying to massage away stiffness. “Here.” He handed me a piece of paper with a quote written on it.

I read it aloud. “
There is a great deal of pain in life, and perhaps the only pain that can be avoided is the pain that comes from trying to avoid pain.”

“By R.D. Laing,” he finished.

“You getting poetic with old age?” I asked as tears welled in my eyes.

“Dammit, Cherie. I’ll love you till I die,” he loudly proclaimed. Then in a lower, unsteady voice he added, “I never married Fran, but had to get an official divorce. I want my one and only true love with me. Please come home.”

I had to sit down on that one. “I am home, Gabriel.” I dropped back into my armchair at the front entrance.

“Home can be where ever you want it to be.” He looked at me. “The Friendswood’s farm or your house in Clear Lake. I was wrong for not resolving the family issues, way back when.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Gabriel. Some issues simply can’t be resolved. . .”

“Yes they can!” He interrupted and knelt beside my chair. “I realize it’s difficult for you to believe I can exist without Gloria and Hope, but I have for almost three years. I should have stood up for you during our marriage, instead of pitying Gloria. She played her spousal abuse card for too many decades, and I finally had enough of her conniving. So did Ben, after he found out how nasty she’d been to Mei.”

I could hardly believe my ears.

“I called Lauren and Skylar before heading here.” He began to lightly stroke my hand. “They want me to be happy and sent me here with their blessings— but even without— nothing was stopping me tonight. Christ, I’ve driven by for months. I’m tired of feeling like a part of me is missing. I don’t want to spend another day without you, Cherie. We’re getting too old to waste precious minutes. I know you didn’t stop loving me just because we weren’t together.”

KLDE had the knack.
Ain’t Nothin’ Like The Real Thing
by Marvin Gaye and Tammy Terrell flowed from my radio. Gabriel’s eyes carefully scanned my face. “I can live without you Cherie, but I don’t want to,” he said quietly. “I can’t erase my mistakes. Especially the one I made regarding the abortion. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize your pain over that loss. I should’ve shown more love and emotional support. Can you ever forgive me?”

“Let’s forgive each other. I hurt you by rushing away years ago. Neither of us behaved responsibly back then, but I think we’ve changed a bit.” I stood from the chair and took a few steps toward the shop window.

“It’s May ninth,” he said, stopping me in my tracks and turning me around to face him.

“Really?” I grinned. “I hadn’t noticed.” With my green eyes softly locked on his baby blues, I leaned against him and reveled in the warmth of our gentle, guilt-free kiss.

“I love you,” we said in unison. Gabriel pulled me against him and placed another delicious kiss on my mouth. Everything stood still as those old familiar feelings and years of history between us, melted together.

“Hey, I heard it through the grapevine that Vegas has round-the-clock wedding chapels.”

“Beau’s favorite city?” I rubbed my lipstick residue from his mouth. “What a perfect place to have my spiritual guide as our witness.”

“Yeah? Well, we’ll buy clothes when we get there, so git in the truck, Blondie and let’s head to the airport. I can’t think of a better day for you to go from being Ms. O’Quinn back to being Mrs. O’Quinn.”

“That’s a fact and not a fiction.”

30

It’s been nine and a half years since our May ninth Las Vegas wedding, and we’re still celebrating marital bliss. No, it’s not one hundred percent perfect, but close enough it’s unlikely friends and family are still wagering on our survival rate. We sold both homes and moved to Tiki Island, a sleepy waterfront community closer to my shop. Gabriel watches Letterman with me, and I not only read Ken Hoffman’s column, I occasionally write Ken about finding Houston’s best French martini. I still don’t give an embryotic rat’s ass about fast food. Otherwise, when problems arise, no one clams up and no one runs away. We deal with issues like responsible, mature adults who know we’re lucky to have a second chance.

Our relationship with Gabriel’s daughters has flourished, and despite forgiving Gloria and Hope, we remain respectfully distant. Ellen and Mother often come to Houston where we attend Lynn’s favorite, the
Deborah Duncan
TV show. If Deborah ever does a show about being thankful for family members who bail you out of jams without casting judgment, we’ll be guests instead of audience members. My nephew Jim and his wife Roxanne are now parents of champagne blonde, future femme fatale, Alexis. Kent faded to black eons earlier, and due to their special bond built over decades, Gabriel walked Nikki down the aisle. They both grinned while making the short walk, like a duo with special secrets under their hats. Nikki and Tad are celebrating year eight and have given us three darling granddaughters and Luke married his longtime girlfriend, Chloé who blessed us with twin grandsons.

Ten years have brought countless familiar faces through my shop, including Patrice and her retired airline pilot husband, Art, Eduardo and his twenty year companion, Brian, Bianca and Brandon with their six (yes, six) children, babysitter extraordinaire Rachel, all the way from Florida, and even a recently divorced and still effervescent Katie, who lives in the area and stopped in solely due to my shop’s name. Browsing with one of her two grown daughters, Kat recognized me immediately even though I was nowhere near the register. We’ve both changed since our youth, but our bond remains special. She drops by from time to time and once a year we trek to Houston for lunch at Brennan’s. A trip filled with reminiscing about our mischievous teen years and sharing favorite memories of our beloved Beau.

Even with my business thriving, next year I’m selling to savor life on the bay. A former workaholic, Gabriel now rarely oversees his crews, much less works with them. Our pace has slowed as we focus on enjoying life to its fullest, which includes boating with Gabriel at the helm while I’m teaching little ones to water ski. We also spend time with recently adopted dogs: Beau—a debonair and gentle Airedale, and Jewel—a fearless and sassy Jack Russell Terrier. Thank goodness for an Internet website that helps find homes for unwanted newborn and adult pets. And thanks to another Internet website, I found a different kind of peace by learning Beau had passed away in ’94, two years after our lunch in Galveston, and the exact day of our shop’s grand opening. The sensation of light snow that evening had been Beau, swinging by with a sprinkling of unconditional love for me. His last residence reflected the same county as Celeste’s home, giving me relief to know his final days were spent surrounded by loved ones.

Which brings me to the somewhat emotional, last antique shopping spree Nikki and I shared. I debated going due to the shop soon-to-be closing, but Nikki seemed excited to be spending time with me. Or maybe getting time away from her brood.

The weather was unusually hot for late October and the crowd was larger than we’d imagined, with an assortment of people who looked like extras for a Quentin Tarantino film. When we passed an overweight woman in combat boots and bib overalls with a Lone Star beer hanging from her mouth and a kid who was way past weaning age fastened to her breast,
Nikki piped up, “Someone should enforce a law against drinking while nursing.”

“It’s impossible to legislate morality, lovey.” I pushed through the crowd.

“Well, witnessing brainless behavior like that makes me want to puke.”

“You’re such a poetic child.” I put my arm around her shoulder. Her closeness to Gabriel still surfaces via quips and other idiosyncrasies imprinted by him.

“Look, Mom.” She squinted into the sun and nodded her head forward. “There’s a tent filled with furniture.”

“Hmmm.” I looked around. “I’m beginning to think our chances of finding anything decent, run along the same lines as finding Grandma at Chippendales tucking dollars into Fireman Fred’s g-string. Let’s call it a day if there’s nothing worthwhile in this place.”

“Oh Mom, the day is young.” Nikki locked her arm in mine and pulled me along.

As we entered the area filled with tables, chairs, and dressers—some of which had seen better days, we saw what looked like quality pieces inside a metal warehouse. Walking through the building, I touched a marble statue that seemed totally out of place, and leaned forward to take a better look at a bar in the far corner. I rushed ahead of Nikki, inching through the narrow path of tables and barstools stacked into a small mountain. A shriek of excitement escaped my mouth.

“Someone pour ice water down your back, Mom?” Nikki hurried to catch up.

“I’m not sure, but I think that’s Beau’s old bar.” I kept walking. “From the Jewel Box.”

Finally close enough to get a good look and put my hands on the elaborately crafted mahogany bar, I looked up and smiled, just about the time Nikki lifted its three thousand dollar price tag and gasped. A burly old man, sitting near a desk and sucking on the stub of a cigar, slowly got out of his overstuffed chair, and waddled over, digging his trousers out of his bum as he walked.

“That’s a mighty fine piece you’re lookin’ at ma’am.”

“It’s awfully big.” I tried to keep my composure as I walked around to the other side of the bar. If this was Beau’s old bar, I wasn’t about
to leave without it. “Any idea where this came from or its chain of ownership?”

“Well, it’s pretty old and a beautifully crafted piece.”

I hate haggling. “If you can give me some background,” I interrupted, “this might turn into a great day for both of us.”

Chewing his cigar and scratching the nape of his neck under a fluff of thick gray hair, he grumbled about having to look in his files as he languidly drifted to his desk and pulled out a dilapidated manila folder. I followed and looked across the desk trying to read upside down writing on the worst record keeping register I’d ever seen. Flipping back and forth through the pages, the old man eyeballed papers with a slight grimace, obviously having a tough time deciphering his records. “Hmmm.” He shifted his cigar to one side of his mouth. “I bought it from John Mueller of Austin in ‘98 when he sold his restaurant.”

“Previous owners?” Nikki asked for me.

“Looks like a total of three. Mueller bought it from some Houston restaurateur—a Rob Rehill, who had bought it from another restaurateur, Beauregard Duval in ‘72.”

He had mispronounced Duvalé, which wasn’t unusual, but to my knowledge the Jewel Box never served food. Apparently trouser digger didn’t want to admit this bar was actually used inside a watering hole. I asked if he had a flashlight. He offered his lighter. Nikki watched as I went to the right end of the bar, leaned down and sparked a flame underneath the middle shelf. Passage of time made it slightly difficult to read. I flicked off the lighter when it overheated my fingers, and then gently rubbed my hand over the engraved C/G, trying to conceal my smile.