However modest a place it was in inventory and profitability, the enterprise certainly was an achievement for a woman like myself, I reflected-as a person of little formal education and even less economic means. I was proud of it. And had a right to be. I felt No matter what Brian Adams thought.
Maria Nunez greeted me warmly, chacking over my injury like a doting mother hen "Poor Olivia Oh, dear Look at that horrid cane. You really have to walk with that, do you?"
"Not as long as she has me around." Brian said with a grin.
"You ought to stick around for a while then," Maria advised . "she's a pretty good cook. you know." "Yes," Brian nodded "I know."
I was leaning on his am at the time and felt my checks grow suddenly warm . I'd told Maria the basic facts of Brian yestenday aftermoon over the phone Maria was my friend and not a gossip, so I felt safe telling her everything. Maria wes a great secret keeper, but she always trying to fix me up wth blind date and now was obviously thrilled to see her friend thrown together with an attractive, seemingly unattached stranger.
Using the glass counter for support, I slipped away from Brian and settled myself at my usual post on a high cushioned stool near the cash register.
"So, how's business, Maria" I asked conversationally Maria shrugged. "There was an older couple in this morning, looking at that painted blue cuphboard you have in the back there."
"They said they'll be back, but you never know. Oh...I know who you mean." I nodded, looking up for a moment from sorting a stack of receipts." They re always looking and measuring But by the time they come back, we've always sold the piece they were looking a." I laughed and looked up again at Maria. "Mark my words, the next item to be carried out that door will be the painted blue cupboard. And not by that couple, I'm sure of it." While I and Maria chatted about business matters, strolled around the shop, Brian's hands dug in the front pockets of his jeans, his handsome features transformed by a look of total fascination. Now and then he'd stop to pick up and examine a piece of china, clothing or some odd collectible, like a handful of antique postcards I kept in a big wicker basket .
Dear Mother, St. Louis is swell. Having a lovely Hope your gallstones are better. Love, Edna, he read aloud with a grin. "Oh, boy. Don't get started," Maria warmed with a wave of her hand. I can read those all day long Makes you wonder about the people, you know ?"
Brian nodded agreeably. "Yes, it does, doe it?" He picked up a few more and read them to him-self with interest . I had actually thought he'd be bored in he place within a few minutes. I was glad to see him enjoying himself and so relaxed. While I worked I stole secret glances at him. He looked so out of place somehow in the setting. So...big and masculine among the lace-edged shelves of bric-a-brac, the fringed lamp shades and cross-stitched pillows l was amusing somehow to watch him roam about, carefully taking in everything with such a serious thoughtful expression. I was almost finished looking through the mail that had collected over the past few days when I noticed Brian sorting through a pile of books the back table. There was a stack of my own mystery novels there, which I sold along with some other titles, old and new. I wondered if he'd notice book and guess that I was the author. I waited quietly. barely taking a breath while he went through the volumes.
"This any good?" he asked, waving a book at me, I looked over at him He'd chosen mine. His stubborn mate. "Oh.....that one?" I asked vaguely, I suddenly wondered if she should come clean as the author.
"Have you read read it?" Brian persisted. He turned it over, read the back, then leafed through a few pages. I nodded. It was hard, but I managed to keep my expression quite and returned my mail.
"It was pretty good," I said lightly. If you like werewolf,"
"I do," Brian said firmly. He looked down at the book again. "I think I'll take a copy l can always use something extra to read on the plane." He walked up to the counter where I sat and took out his wallet. My throat felt suddenly tight and dry, so dry I could hardly speak. I waved my hand at him. "Don't worry. That's on the house,"
"Are you sure?" he asked politely.
"Of course. I want you to have it. Sort of a thank you gift, I added. "Besides, I know the author, I get them for free."
"Oh, in that case, thanks," Brian said, clearly feeling better about accepting my present. I knew in my heart I shouldn' t have added the last, purposely misleading, tidbit. But somehow I couldn't resist. While I wasn't vain in the least about my writing, somewhere deep inside it irked me that he clearly had never suspected me of being the book's author .
Maria, who stood nearby with her feather duster, going over the same row of teapots again and again as she eavesdropped, had taken in the entire exchange. I saw Maria's eyes light up, but I gave her a quelling look. Maria quickly got the message and clamped her mouth shut. She continued her work, humming a random tune under her breath. When it was time to go, I chose a stylish, polished mahogany cane with a carved ivory handle from a ceramic umbrella stand of such items. I pulled off the price tag and tossed my metal, medical-looking cane behind the counter.
"If I have to use one of these, it may as well suit my style," I explained to Maria and Brian.
"And clearly, you're a woman with a very unique style," Brian remarked. Maria's mouth twitched with an approving smile but she didn't say a word, I noticed thats fully. As I gave Maria some last-minute instructions, Brian offered his arm with a gentlemanly fourish, and we headed back to the truck.