Clock and Dagger Page 4

  Nancy reached down, and Bezel walked over and headbutted Nancy’s hand and rubbed her head in the palm. Nancy finished saying hello to Bezel in a voice she used on no one other than the shop cat. “Is she behaving herself on the furniture?” Nancy asked, looking up at me.

  “She is. She’s a very well-behaved cat, for the most part. When she isn’t, it’s usually for good reason. And my fault,” I said.

  Nancy laughed and stood up. “Your furniture is lovely. Was it all your grandmother’s?” she asked. “I don’t recognize some of the pieces.”

  “I got the couch and the kitchen table in my divorce.”

  “I’m surprised you wanted to keep them,” she said, turning to look more closely at the table.

  “Me too,” I laughed, “but it’s a nice couch, and a great table. I’m a girl on a budget.”

  “It all looks terrific, now that you’ve moved in. I still think it’s a shame that you gave up some of the space in front.”

  “The shop is desperate for storage space, you know that. Plus, we decided to give me a little more privacy, since we added a bathroom and kitchenette on the first floor, and that required some structural building out. As I said, it’s just me. Counting Bezel, us. This is plenty of room.”

  “It won’t always just be you,” Nancy said, raising her eyebrows.

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t a terrific success at being married,” I said, trying to laugh it off. I pushed away from the kitchen counter where I had been leaning to answer the squeal of the boiling teakettle. Truth be told, I’d probably still be married if my husband hadn’t found a newer model. These days, the idea of being Eric Evan’s wife made me sad, rather than wistful. Imagine what I would have missed? Moving back here, owning my own shop? Eric would have insisted I sell it. Life worked out the way it was supposed to, and for that I was grateful.

  “I was lucky to meet Pat when I did. We’ve been very happy all these years. I guess I want you girls to be as happy as we are,” Nancy said, sitting down at the table.

  “We girls” were Nancy and Pat’s daughter, Moira, and I. Moira was the only Reed daughter and the apple of her father’s eye. She and her mother worked together every day, and were too much alike for it to be smooth sailing all the time. Still, Nancy’s critiques came from a place of love, and Moira recognized that, most of the time. The when-are-you-going-to-get-married? mantra was getting pretty old, though.

  “You know, Nancy, I can’t speak for Moira,” I said, dropping tea bags into the steaming mugs and placing one in front of each of us at the table, “but if I found someone who made me as happy as Pat makes you, I’d get married again. I can’t wait for that to happen in order to be happy though, you know?”

  “Yeah, I know. All right, I’ll stop trying to fix you up with Ben Clover. Oh, stop, don’t act so surprised. He’s the best-looking guy in town.”

  “Why aren’t you fixing him up with Moira, then?” I asked, feeling another blush rise.

  “Moira’s got eyes for Jeff Paisley. You know that.”

  “I don’t know that, Nancy. At least, she hadn’t told me that.” She didn’t have to, of course. I’d noticed how she looked at him. Jeff Paisley was always all business, on the job twenty-four/seven.

  Nancy played with her mug of tea and then looked up at me. This face, with the furrowed brow and anxious expression, wasn’t what I expected from Nancy Reed. After everything that happened last fall, my relationship had moved to another level with Nancy. Now we were confidantes as well as friends. Though, I still, at times, wished she were my mother.

  “Nancy, what’s the matter? You look worried.”

  “Oh, Ruthie. I am worried. I’m worried about you. I’m worried about Moira. I’m worried about Ben Clover. I’m even worried about Flo Parker, for heaven’s sake, and that woman has more business lives than a cat. You all, we all, have put so much of ourselves in these shops. What happens if this open house idea doesn’t take off? Have you thought about that? I know that Moira is worried about cash flow this winter, especially if the roads get bad and the students stop coming by. You must have invested a fortune in the Cog. What happens if business doesn’t kick in the way you want it to? I worry . . .”

  “I know you do, and I love you for it. We talked about this after Christmas dinner. We’ll all be all right for a while. So, what else is going on?” I said, sensing that there was still more she was holding on to.

  Nancy sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. “It’s Beckett Green. I heard about his latest idea to bring in customers.”

  “Since they shut down the coffee shop idea, I thought we were done.”

  “He’s still going to serve coffee. For free, no less. A chain store in Marytown is going to bring over the coffee urns, so he won’t have to make it on site. He blames you for that, by the way.”

  “I asked if the building was up to code for a restaurant. Simple question,” I said.

  “A simple question that stopped that conversation for now. Then, to spite us all, he went outside of Orchard to get a coffee vendor, rather than giving Moira the business. But he isn’t stopping there. Apparently, Beckett has decided to expand his business a bit more. He’s going to start selling clocks and watches.”

  I tried to laugh, but couldn’t. The Cog & Sprocket was all about the art of horology and the craft of clock making. We’d even started to investigate fine-watch repair, since Mark Pine had apprenticed with a watchmaker and had interest in furthering his knowledge. But quality came at a price, and I was still trying to figure out how to keep us all employed. That was already hard enough without competition across the street.

  “What kind of clocks and watches?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” Nancy said, staring into her mug. “All I know is that he has decided to put you out of business.”

  “Ruthie, you upstairs?” Pat Reed bellowed up the staircase, startling Bezel from her cozy perch on the back of the couch.

  I tried to respond, but my mouth was too dry. I felt the color drain from my face. That rat—what did I ever do to cross Beckett Green? Yeesh. This I didn’t need.

  “We’re both up here,” Nancy called out.

  I took a careful sip of tea.

  “It looks like we’re almost finished setting things up down here,” Pat called up. I could hear stairs creaking under his weight. “Ruth, I’d like you to check out the placement of the screen downstairs. I want to make sure we show enough of the stock to be interesting, but that we make folks want to come back for the grand opening next week.” Pat kept talking as he entered the room. He leaned over and gave Nancy a peck on her cheek. He turned toward me, and stopped.

  “Ruthie, what’s the matter? You’re as pale as a ghost.”

  “I told Ruth that Beckett Green had decided to put her out of business. She didn’t take it well.”

  “You told her what? For the love of Pete, Nancy, what are you trying to stir up?”

  “I’m not stirring anything up. You know he has it in for her. He has it in for everyone. A terrible man, that Beckett Green.”

  “He does not have it in for Ruthie. Honestly, Nancy, sometimes I wonder about you.”

  “Pat,” I said, “did you know that Beckett was going to sell clocks and watches?”

  “I’d heard something about watches, from Mark. He went out of his way to tell me they were cheap plastic watches. I hadn’t heard about the clocks, but I can’t imagine they’ll be high-end,” Pat said. Pat was a peacekeeper, so I wasn’t really surprised I hadn’t heard this yet, but still.

  “What’s he doing?” I said. I hated how pitiful I sounded. Pat didn’t seem to notice.

  “Beckett is a self-important jackass who is trying to set his business up as a one-stop shop in Orchard,” Pat said. “He’d be better off being a decent bookstore and leaving the other businesses to us. He’ll learn soon enough, one way or the other. Don’t worry about it, Ruth. Especially tonight.” Pat gave me a wink, and I forced myself to smile back. A deep breath cleared my
head. He was right, of course. Nothing I could do about this tonight.

  “And you”—Pat turned toward his wife—“stop with the gossip. Moira talked to you about that. I know you’re worried about the coffee business Beckett may take away from the Sleeping Latte. But we’ll deal with that when the time comes.”

  “Pat Reed, some day you’ll need to take off those rose-colored glasses and see what’s happening around here,” Nancy said, shaking her head.

  “Trust me, I see what’s happening. What’s happening is that Beckett Green, and Kim Gray, are worrying my best girl too much. They aren’t worth it, either of them.”

  “I wonder if Kim Gray will come by tonight?” I asked.

  “Did you invite her?” Nancy asked. “’Cause I didn’t.”

  “Of course I invited her,” I said. “She’s the town manager. She has to want this to work, doesn’t she? Besides, if we didn’t invite her, she’d tell everyone. Since we did, if she doesn’t show up, it makes her look bad.”

  “Tonight is going to be terrific,” Pat said. “You know I had my doubts, but this crazy POL promotion may work. Everyone I’ve seen today is planning on coming by. Now, let’s see some smiles from both of you. What say?”

  Nancy faked a smile, then sighed and glanced down at her watch. “Yikes, look at the time. I’m going to go check in with Moira, and then I’m heading home to get changed. You coming, Pat?” Nancy got up and squeezed my shoulder. I gave her a smile and stood up as well.

  “Let me do a walk-through with Ruth, and then I’ll meet you down at the Sleeping Latte. Fifteen minutes, tops.”

  • • •

  Pat and I walked Nancy to the front door. The windows on the front door were covered with old-fashioned blinds, the metal kind from the middle of the last century. When the shop was open, the blinds were raised, welcoming customers in and letting the rest of us look out at downtown Orchard. The Reeds stepped outside to the porch, which ran along the front of the shop, and exchanged a few words. I turned away, trying to give them some privacy. I looked around at the shop, from the point of view of a new customer. I smiled at the immediate impression of clocks, clocks, and more clocks. I needed to use the front entrance more often. I missed out on the “wow” when I used the back door.

  I’d always loved walking into the shop. We hadn’t had to do much work—it was already perfect, with beautiful oak-and-glass cases creating the customer counter. There was shelving that had acted as a wall to the back of the shop, with a gap in the center to allow someone to come from the back to the front when a customer came in. As part of the renovation, we took the back off the shelves, allowing for a peek into the workroom. We’d also taken down the wall to the right, opening up the tiny side space as a showroom. The shop was still tiny, cramped, and overflowing with clocks, but a new paint job, better lighting, and reupholstered chairs scattered about for customers to sit on made it more welcoming. It was perfect.

  For tonight, Pat had created a screen that blocked both the shelves and the showroom area. We’d open them for the grand opening next week. We were going to use the front counter for food, drinks, and displays about the other shops. The side showroom featured some of our stock, all beautiful, but nothing too precious. I worried about some of our more expensive pieces being knocked off the wall or tipped over by exuberant visitors. Of course, that was if people showed up.

  I looked over at one of the clocks. One minute to the hour. That’s why Pat wanted me to come downstairs. This was a dress rehearsal for tonight.

  I glanced over at Pat, who had come in and closed the door behind him. He looked as nervous as I felt. I held my breath as the minute hand clicked over. A cacophony of bells and chimes began to fill the space. I could tell that they weren’t all in sync, and I made a mental note to move up the minute hand on the grandfather to the left of the door. Still, it was wonderful.

  “That will knock their socks off, don’t you think?” Pat asked.

  “I do. Or scare them to death. Do you think we should hold off until the grand opening?”

  “Nah. Let’s give them a preview of the big show. For the opening we’ll have a few more ready to go. Plus, folks will be able to see them all.”

  “I hope I remember to shut off a few of these chimes before I go upstairs tonight.”

  “I’m putting one of those sticky tabs on the doors of each one with a chime, so they’ll be easy enough to shut off. Bezel doesn’t love them, does she?”

  “She really doesn’t, poor thing. She shoots under the couch and hunkers down the instant the first chime rings out. But the new door upstairs is a pretty good sound barrier. So, Pat, what do you think? Will Kim Gray show up tonight? Is Beckett Green trying to put me out of business?”

  “It’s like a soap opera around here,” Pat said, delicately sticking a little pink tab to a clock with his big, rough hand. “Of course Kim Gray will show up. I hope it’s on the hour, so she can hear the chimes. It will help make the case for the clock tower, don’t you think?”

  “How so?”

  “The chimes make you feel alive. You practically glow from the inside when they go off. They’ll work on Kim Gray. Imagine if we can fill up Orchard with that sound?”

  “Imagine that. I think you want this to happen as much as I do.”

  “Maybe more,” Pat said. “Your grandfather talked about it for years. This last year, I’d begun to imagine how it would feel to work on it. Lost hope for a while, but you’ve brought it back. This will happen. We need to help Kim Gray see the light.”

  “Or hear the bells,” I said.

  • • •

  “Who else is here?” I asked Pat. We were doing one more walk-through of the shop, trying to make sure everything was being shown off to its best potential.

  “Nadia and Mark are going to put the watches in the front case, so folks can see them tonight,” Pat said, explaining what the two of them were doing, huddled in the side room surrounded by boxes. It looked to me like they were holding hands.

  “I thought she was heading home to get dressed,” I said, half to myself.

  “She went and picked up her clothes, and Tuck’s. They’re going to get dressed over at Ben’s.”

  “Pat, you are a fount of knowledge, you know that?”

  “No, I’m in the business of keeping the peace. Moira was looking for Tuck earlier, needed him for something or another. It threw off Nadia’s schedule for the evening, so we all had to come up with a plan.”

  Pat and I were moving one of the mantel clocks to a safer space, away from where we were planning on putting the food. It was a beautiful old piece, hand painted to look like marble, with gold columns along the front. It was in terrible shape when it came to us as part of a collection. Not only was it not running, it had obviously not been tended to for years. I’d been working on it for a while, and I finally had it running up to my standards. Moving it was a risk, but it was a good test. I looked at it carefully and checked the time against other clocks in the area. I’d make sure it was still keeping time tonight, poor old thing. I couldn’t sell it if it wasn’t working well. Even if I was tempted to keep it, I’d need to get it running. That was the part of my work I really loved—bringing old pieces back to their former glory. I grabbed a rag and brushed out the smudges we’d added to the veneer.

  I heard a tapping sound coming from the front of the shop. “Is there someone at the front door?” I asked as we put the clock down carefully and slid it toward the back of the countertop. I went over and peered through the blinds, feeling a grin split my face as I saw Ben standing on the front stoop.

  “I found three bags of candy on the floor of the backseat. Since I didn’t buy them, I thought they must be yours.”

  “Thanks, Ben. That’s my just-in-case stash.”

  “‘Just-in-case stash?’”

  “My grandmother always had one. Some candy or nibbles she could put out just in case food was running low. The thought of completely running out of food was too horrible to
imagine.”

  “There’s fifteen pounds of chocolate here. That’s quite a stash.”

  “Holiday candy, on sale but still seasonal. And you’re right, I’m sure we’ll do a fine job here in the shop if we don’t open this up during the next week.”

  “Ben, you just missed the show!” Pat said.

  “The show?” Ben said, coming into the shop and putting the candy on the countertop.

  “I don’t want to ruin the surprise, but let me say this. Be here on the hour at some point tonight. You won’t be sorry.”

  Ben smiled. “Mark and I have a surprise tonight too.”

  “You and Mark? Really?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Mark and I cooked it up last week while we were painting the red wall in the showroom for the twentieth time.”

  “Don’t exaggerate. It only took five coats,” I said.

  “‘Only five coats,’ she says. Pat, it seemed like twenty coats, didn’t it?”

  “Ruth had a specific color in mind. That takes some work. You’ve got to admit, that accent wall looks terrific. Makes the clocks really pop.”

  “Thank you, Pat,” I said. “Anyway, while you were painting you hatched a plan?”

  “A secret plan. To take place right after the open house, right before Caroline’s party.”

  “You’re not going to tell me anything, are you, Ben?” I said, squinting at him accusingly.

  “It’s a secret, Ruth. You’re not good with secrets, are you?” Ben and Pat both laughed, and I pretended to. But he was right—I wasn’t good with secrets. I could say that the switch had happened when I discovered my ex-husband was having an affair, but that would be a big lie. I’d never liked secrets and had always done everything I could to uncover them. No matter what the cost.

  “By the way, Moira brought the cake over,” Ben said. “I put it in the shampoo area of my shop—right where we usually put towels, so if Caroline goes by to get something, it isn’t in plain sight.”

  “Great, I’ll go over and get it before the birthday party,” I said.