Melody finally found a parking spot a few doors down from the antique store and brought her GMC Acadia to a halt. She thought the crowd was unusual for the time of day and absently wondered what would bring so many people downtown on a Tuesday afternoon. Perhaps it was just the excitement of the holidays.
Making her away around the back of her SUV, Melody popped the door and pulled the box of carnival glass out, carefully balancing it on her hip as she clicked the button for the door to close. After situating the Santas, she’d decided to return to the mess upstairs and work on getting some more items to the store. She couldn’t get back into the attic, after all, so her December 1 decorating had dwindled. At least she’d been able to get this box ready and do some research on a couple more items, as well as update their website and post to several social media sites enticing potential clients to pay the shop a visit.
Unlike the Santas, this box actually was heavy, and she was careful of her footing as she stepped up onto the sidewalk and hurried toward the shop. The city had begun decorating the area the day after Thanksgiving, and the festive bows and lights brought a smile to her lips as she hustled along, careful not to run into anyone coming the opposite direction down the pathway.
Reaching the antique shop door, she backed into it, pushing it open as she did so, the familiar tinkle of the same bell that had hung there since her dad was a little boy letting her mother know she had arrived.
Sarah Murphy was slightly shorter than her daughter, with hair the same brown, which she wore cut short, strands of gray framing her face. While Melody was fairly certain she glimpsed her future in the face of her mother, they didn’t look exactly alike; Sarah’s eyes were a warm brown and her nose pointed up at the end while Melody had her father’s nose and his bright green eyes.
“Hi, honey,” Sarah called as she came around the counter.
“Hi,” Melody replied, spinning her way through the door and looking around desperately for a place to set the box.
“Let me help you,” Sarah said, rushing over and grabbing two corners of the box. Together, they were able to gently lower the heavy container to the ground.
Straightening, Melody brushed her hair off of her forehead. Even though it was quite chilly outside, rushing around in her thick winter coat and stocking cap had brought a glisten to her forehead. “Thanks, Mom. It’s some more of the carnival glass.”
“Oh, good,” Sarah said, glancing down at the box as if doing so would give her an idea of exactly what was inside it. “We’ve sold several pieces the last few days. I hope there’s space on the shelf.”
Melody didn’t bother to point out that she had brought in the carnival glass to replace the pieces her mother had sold. When she was younger, that would have been just the sort of statement that would have drawn her into an argument. Now, despite the trials living with one’s mother often forced upon an independent adult, Melody seldom bickered with her mom. She had been through a lot, and it had been Melody’s choice to move back home, after all, even if she had only done so because otherwise, she was fairly certain her mother would be forced to pack up everything she had and move to Chicago to live with her.
“How have sales been today?” Melody asked, looking around the store. She could tell her mom had moved some merchandise. A few of the items she’d brought in over the last couple of weeks were missing.
“Good,” Sarah said. “Let me get the dolly and we’ll move that box to the back. Maybe I can get the dishes on the shelf tomorrow morning.”
While Melody thought it might make more sense to get them out and put them directly on the shelf now—they were all tagged and ready to go after all—she waited for her mom to get the dolly. There were no customers in the store just now, and glancing at her watch, she saw that it was almost time to close up.
“Here we go,” Sarah said, wheeling over the smaller of the two dollies they had on-hand.
“I’ll get it,” Melody insisted. She scooped the box up and made sure it was balanced before she started to carefully wheel it through the only open aisle of the store.
“I got a bit of Christmas decorating done today,” Sarah called as Melody made her way toward the stock room in the back.
“I saw. The garland over the door looks nice.” She pushed the swinging door open with her hand and then wheeled the box through. Though there were several other boxes back here that needed to be unpacked, she knew her mother was very particular about how much of one certain type of item she displayed at a time, so she found a home for the box of carnival glass and put the dolly back in its spot. A quick glance around let her know that she needn’t bother to bring any other dishes, clocks, or costume jewelry with her tomorrow.
With one final glance around, Melody made her way back. The tinkle at the door alerted her that a customer had come in, and her mother greeted the couple who went off to look at some of the items in a display case on the other side of the store.
“Look, they have that flyer you printed up,” Sarah whispered, coming to lean on the counter next to Melody. “And lots of people have said they saw your ad on the Facebook.”
Melody bit her lip, refusing to laugh at her mother’s lack of social media expertise. “That’s great,” she said. Checking the time on her phone, she realized she’d need to hurry if she was going to make it to the hardware store. “I’ve gotta go.”
“Oh, where to?” her mother asked, watching the couple to see if they needed any help.
“The door knob fell off the attic door this morning.”
“What? It fell off?”
“Yeah, I’m going to run over to Peterson’s and see if they have a kit,” Melody said, adjusting her coat.
“Why don’t you call that new handyman Mrs. Gregory is always raving about?” Sarah asked, her eyebrows arched. “She says he can fix anything.”
“Mom, you know we can’t really afford that,” Melody said quietly. “Hopefully, they’ll have some kit with simple to follow directions, and I can fix it myself.”
“Or you’ll waste money on parts, not be able to fix it, and end up calling him anyway,” Sarah muttered.
Melody was already on her way to the door. “Let me see if Mr. Peterson has any suggestions,” she said, giving her mother a wave and escaping into the crisp winter air. While her mother might have a point, it wouldn’t hurt to at least go see if it was something she could do herself before hiring an over-priced handyman to come put a patch on it, which would only hold so long before she would have to have it fixed again.