Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Leo tapped his fingers on the antique desk in the back of his workshop, the one that had charm and character but was better suited for ambience than selling. It had two large gashes on top and a replacement leg of different style and quality. He had worked with his grandfather back in the day on the gashes, but even their combined skill couldn’t make the desk suitable for selling. Especially as it was part of a set that matched the grandfather clock that stood in a corner. A constant reminder to all that Leonard Dentz had the middle name of Trouble .
The clock had busted glass, bent hands, and a crack in the wood. It had at one point been a beauty, almost a decade ago, when teen Leo had a chip on his shoulder about being stuck watching the store. Leo’s kid brother, Dean, and that chip resulted in a tug of war over a football in a place where “you break it you bought it” could cost thousands. The football had taken the grandfather clock from glory to ruins and demolished an entire row of antique plates. Leo had been grounded for so long he wasn’t entirely sure it had ended.
So now, Leo did year-end work while facing the clock. He’d built himself back up to be trusted with managing the numbers, and nearly had his foot planted into the business door to open it wide. But then incident number two occurred, and the door slammed shut with bolts and plywood.
Footsteps echoed into the area, before his younger brother appeared. Dean had all the Dentz charm and could sell an item with a flash of a smile. Leo sold it with his brains and knowledge, and, yeah, a bit of that charm as well. Together, they made an unbeatable team, but tell that to their father. Leo’s misdeeds affected them all, and while Dean could sell antiques, managing a shop was not his thing.
“Millie says you’ve got a magic menorah. What’s she snorting at Hebrew school?” Dean propped on the edge of the desk, running his fingers through his hair while studying his reflection in the nearby glass cabinet.
“You think she’s snorting something and not a child who still has some youthful magic in her life? Why’d she tell you about it, anyways?”
Dean picked up a paper weight and tossed it in the air before catching it. “Said I should take a stab at it if you didn’t.” Dean put the weighted cube back down. “So tell me, brother, did you make a wish as this very tall tale instructs?”
Leo moved the paperweight back to its previous position. “No. I lit it, it’s a nice piece.”
“Too bad it wasn’t a fixer you could use to woo Dad over. However, will you find a way to show off your talents. A shame there isn’t something tall and broken for you to save …” Dean nodded his head in the direction of the clock.
“Give it up. I need to find something I didn’t damage. Dad will have my hide if I touch that thing again.”
“So don’t get caught while you fix it.” Dean pulled out his phone, thumbed through. Leo knew from experience it wasn’t work on his phone.
“You can swipe right after hours.”
Dean shoved his phone into his pocket. “You want to continue having this conversation?”
Leo leaned back and sighed. No, he didn’t. He hadn’t wanted to have this conversation back when the clock first broke, and the years that followed didn’t help.
“That’s what I thought.”
Leo groaned and pulled the paperwork toward him. “Get back to work, maybe your pretty face will sell something today.”
Dean flashed a smile. “You admit I’m pretty.”
“Do I need to plan another tea party for you and Millie?”
Dean rubbed his chin. “Pencil me in for after the New Year.” He pushed away from the table and walked back through the shop toward the showroom.
Leo pulled out his phone and marked it into his calendar app. He then scrolled back and stared at the week ahead. Chanukah. A week before Christmas. And all he had to show for himself was an empty calendar.
He’d had a glimmer of hope that he’d have someone to spend the week with. Not a random someone either. Andie. He’d extinguished that hope. He thought back to her scowl the previous night, the one that had darkened her face, highlighting the hurt in her brown eyes. It cut into him. It had the night before, but he couldn’t think fast enough on his feet to rectify the situation. Why didn’t life come with reverse buttons? She had haunted his dreams, all the potential they had dying before it had a chance. It demanded fixing, though Leo could admit his desire to fix things was stronger than his ability. At the very least, Andie deserved a peace offering before moving far away. Her store-bought candles had lingered in his mind, and the excessive dripping he caught before leaving. She deserved a nice set and he knew where to get one.
After inserting his foot so far in his mouth he kicked his own ass that way, it really was the least he could do.
He checked his work schedule. If he did a bit of juggling, he could pull this off in between appointments. He’d get Andie some candles, wish her luck, and then leave her alone.
It stung. He’d wanted the chance for something more with her. But karma had spoken, and really, it was his own damn fault for waiting so long. He’d fix the bad vibes, not that he had the best track record with that either.
“Dentz, you need a New Year’s Resolution not to be a dick.”
One step at a time. For now, work awaited.
The last of Andie’s sugared-up students bounced next to her in the cold midday air, waiting for one of her fathers to show up. No gloves, no hat, and only a light sweatshirt for protection against the day that had turned cold, despite the sun shining high overhead. Andie squatted down, rubbing the little girl’s hands in between her mitten-covered ones, debating loaning them, even if she knew that loan meant losing yet another pair.
“Did you enjoy the gingerbread people?” Andie asked, as much to entertain herself as her student.
Emma nodded, pigtails swaying with the motion. “Uh-huh. I made a green one!”
Andie smiled. Some of the green food coloring had lingered on Emma’s hands, announcing to all her color of choice without words. Andie’s own hands had a little of each color lingering on her skin.
She rose as footsteps bounded toward them to see Patrick had finally arrived. He skidded to a stop and scooped Emma up. Patrick, Andie noted, did have gloves on. She got gloves on twenty kids multiple times a day and some parents couldn’t even find shoes.
“Sorry, the baby was crying all night and Samuel brought her to the doctors. Ear infection. I hope Emma didn’t catch it.”
“I don’t catch baby cooties.” Emma crossed her arms. She was not taking the new addition well.
Andie softened. Overtired parents with a sick baby made perfect sense for being late and missing a few layers of warmth for their oldest. She knew better than to make assumptions, at least until a pattern emerged. Then she had to investigate, not assume.
“Nothing this petri dish of a school hasn’t already seen.”
Patrick held Emma close as he hurried off to his car. Andie chided herself, again, for jumping to conclusions. How easy it was to think something quick and not consider all the facts. A lot like her conversation with Leo the previous night.
It had lingered in her mind, haunting her as she tried to sleep. Did she overreact? Because if she had mentioned the lack of gloves or her thoughts to Patrick, she’d expect him to come back at her with a dose of his own justification.
Lesson learned. Good thing she was a lifelong learner.
A gust of cold air broke her from her thoughts and slipped up through her jacket. Best to get inside. Andie rubbed her aching lower back and hurried inside for warmth. The quiet halls of the old school welcomed her in. Student artwork lined the walls, and a variety of decorations for multiple holidays added to the ambience. The building may be old, but it was well loved.
Andie already missed it.
She didn’t know what would happen to the place after the program closed. The chipping paint and cracks in the walls suggested it needed more than a little work, but whether the town would or would not do that remained to be seen. Either it would be torn down and rebuilt or sold or refurbished for older students. The end result she’d never know unless any of her friends updated her.
The room blurred before her and she had to stop moving. An image of older kids running through these halls, tearing down the preschoolers’ pictures. A wrecking ball shattering the stairs. A bunch of suits reorganizing the layout to some office park. She pushed it aside. Not her problem, even as it chipped away at the memories she’d made. She loved it here. Loved her students and her coworkers. This had been her first post-college job, and while she knew she’d leave it behind eventually, she hadn’t anticipated it being so soon.
“Let it go, Andie, you can wallow later.”
She took the stairs two at a time until she could collapse into a blue child-sized chair in her friend’s room.
“Four more days,” Sarah said while wiping down a table. “I hate looking forward to break so much when we won’t be here next year, but I need a breather.”
Andie nodded, resisting the ache in her chest. “I know exactly what you mean.”
“Of course you do, Miss I’m-Moving-Far-Away-For-An-Amazing-Opportunity.”
She grinned. Like it or not the “amazing opportunity” lessened the ache. “You’ll find something.” Sarah was one of the many teachers still looking.
“I know I will, and I’ve got time.” Sarah tossed her paper towel in the trash. “Still stinks. All these kids will be split. Some won’t find a new preschool; others will end up in overcrowded classrooms or without the support systems we’ve been creating for them.”
Andie said nothing, she knew Sarah spoke the truth. She also knew they needed a conversation change. Discussions like this dominated all their minds.
“I had dinner with my hot neighbor last night.”
Sarah’s eyes grew wide and she lowered herself to the chair next to Andie. “And?”
Andie sighed. “And it didn’t go well. He questioned me moving for my job and it got worse from there.” Perhaps part of her reaction had to do with pent-up aggression on a mostly innocent bystander.
Sarah’s dark hair slid over her shoulder as she leaned in close. “You went off on him, didn’t you?”
Andie held up two fingers very close together. “Little bit.”
Sarah laughed. “Oh, that poor man.”
“That was wrong of me, wasn’t it?”
Sarah rubbed her neck. “Wrong? Never. Reactive? High possibility.”
“I’m moving though, it shouldn’t matter.”
“You’re moving. Why not have some fun before you do? Then it doesn’t matter whether he understands your job or not.”
Andie tried to find fault with that but couldn’t. “I could apologize.”
“Ooh, now we’re talking! Apologize while wearing clothing unacceptable for the classroom, please! Oh! Strip dreidels!”
Andie blinked at Sarah as the words registered. “Did you really just say ‘strip dreidels’ in a preschool classroom?”
Sarah threw her head back, laughing. “I did, and there are no students in the building, so I’ll do it again. STRIP DREIDELS!”
Andie glanced at the door, expecting someone to rush in and shush them, but no one came. “How would that even work?”
Sarah’s lips curved in a Cheshire cat grin. “Why don’t you find out?”
Leo, landing on a shin, unbuttoning his shirt … Andie’s cheeks burned. “I think you’re the one who needs a date.”
“On that we agree. What do you have to lose?”
The shirt slipping off his shoulders and landing on the floor. “A lot of clothes if we’re playing strip dreidels.”
“And that’s the point!”
Andie shook the image of Leo reaching for his belt buckle aside and stood, stretching as she did so. “I’ll consider the dreidels, not so much the stripping.” Those thoughts were for fantasies, not reality.
Sarah stuck out her lower lip in a pout. “Don’t force my hand and have me send my afternoon kids pouting to your room.”
“I think we need a foam snowball war.”
Sarah stood, stretching as well. “Oh, definitely. I’m thinking Thursday, closer to the break.”
“Deal.”
They shook on it, and Andie headed back to her classroom. Giving Leo a second chance felt right. Better than being alone for Chanukah. Maybe like her thoughts with Emma’s parents, Leo had a change of heart about her job. What did it matter what he thought about her job anyways? In a few months she’d be gone.
That sent a fresh wave of sadness over her. She’d grown up in this area. She had memories with her father here. Sure, she kept to herself enough that the few friends she had would stay in touch, but a big move didn’t come without some drawbacks.
What would her father say? Something along the lines of, life hands us opportunities and takes others away. When we’re handed something, we’re smart to listen. So she’d listen to this one, on the job and the neighbor.
The midday sun sent a ray of bright light over the city street. A few slender trees dotted the walkways around the urban buildings. Brookline, Massachusetts, was one of the few local places to get truly authentic Jewish artifacts. Leo hadn’t been here in years but luck had given him an appointment nearby, and if he had any chance of finding quality candles after the start of Chanukah, this was the place to be.
The bell above the door chimed as he entered the shop, leaving the cool December air behind. Leo breathed in the scents of things both old and new, a feeling of home and tradition. The store was jam-packed with books, food, tchotchkes, and other items. He could get yarmulkas or yahrzeit candles, fancy menorahs that cost more than the last antique he sold, or the one item he was here for.
If he had any luck.
He weaved around the aisles until he came to the candle section. Picked through, of course, Chanukah had already begun, but he skipped over the three short boxes that were no better than the one Andie already had, checking for the beeswax and premium handcrafted options, finding one sole box remaining. In white. Broken.
Of course. He put the box back hard enough that the wire shelf wobbled, taking out his frustration on an inanimate object. Finding the right candles had been a needle in the haystack hope. He turned away from the display. He’d find another way to make it up to Andie, some other peace offering. As soon as he figured out what.
The shop was relatively quiet, but a voice rose above the rest, and he wiggled his hearing aid, not connecting the sound to speech until it got closer and louder.
“Can I help you?”
Leo turned to an older gentleman who stood nearby. With one last hope for a miracle—Chanukah was the holiday of miracles after all—Leo pointed toward the candles. “Any chance you have a few more boxes out back?”
The guy shook his head. “Maybe yesterday but not today.”
There went Leo’s last hope for the candle option. “Thanks.”
He exited the shop, sun blinding him for a moment, and headed to his car. Once there, he reached for the GPS, setting it up for his next appointment. It took twenty minutes until the familiar streets came into view, and he found himself idling in front of his client’s house. A nice older lady, like the quirky family aunt, with a bit of a hoarding tendency. Which worked for Leo, since Rose kept items from multiple generations, slowly reducing her inventory as she felt able.
She wouldn’t have the candles for Andie, but maybe he’d acquire the score to save the business.
Leo got out of his car and ambled up the four steps to the front door. He pressed the doorbell then shoved his hands in his pockets. Rose moved slower than she used to and needed a bit of time to get down the stairs of the split-level. A leaf blew across the yard. It had snowed a few weeks ago, only a couple inches, not enough to stay with the rising temperatures.
The door creaked open. “Oh, Leo, you made it!”
Rose stood before him, barely five feet if she stood up straight. Her hair dyed black, matching the large cat eye glasses he suspected had been her style since they were popular the first time.
“Of course I made it! Anything for you, Rose.”
She gestured him in and headed down the stairs, to where chaos lived. The top level of the home didn’t display clutter or anything overflowing. She saved it all for the bottom level.
The lower level had a living area that he only got glimpses of. He followed Rose down the hall, to the massive storage area set up like a maze with all her supplies. A place like this should be a dust trap, but it wasn’t. The setup would put any stock person to shame.
He let his gaze wander as he followed her, spotting at least five different menorahs two rows over, and what looked like more candles than she’d be able to use in her lifetime. Rose had never let him touch an item off of her designated shelf, and yet he’d be a fool not to take advantage of the opportunity.
Later. He made it to where she waited and poked around while she stood there, explaining what she knew of the different items. He had to keep looking back at her to hear, asking for repetition when he missed something. A stack of newspapers from the 1800s, two complete silverware sets, a variety of different glasses—first glance suggested Depression era—and a very old clock that, while it might be valuable, had seen much better days.
Unsalvageable clocks had become his thing. He knew not to touch this particular artifact.
“What do you think?” she asked.
He rummaged around a bit more, calculating and contemplating. “If those glasses are Depression era they may be worth something.”
Rose stood taller. “They are.”
Leo grinned. “Then you’ll want to let me investigate them further. The silverware is good, as are the newspapers. The clock, however, might be too beat up.”
“A few falls will do that for anyone. Shame, it was once a beauty.” She picked it up with gentle, shaking hands, holding it up to the light, a forlorn smile on her face. Whatever she saw wasn’t the beat-up item she held.
His father did the same thing with the damaged clock, no forlorn smile to be had. The two clocks held a note of resemblance—parts might be compatible, but not enough to save both.
“I know, it’s worthless now, but it comes with such fond memories.” Rose sighed. “It might not make sense to you youngsters, but I want it to continue to be involved in those good times.”
“Would I be here if I didn’t get it?”
Rose smiled up at him and patted his cheek. “Such a good boy. You’ll take it then?”
He wanted to back up, but if he did, he ran the risk of knocking over a shelf, or twelve. “I don’t know if I can save it.”
“Then you weren’t listening. I’m not asking for it to be saved.”
“What would you want for it?”
Rose used the same hand that patted his cheek to pat the clock. “A chance for it to be a part of more good memories.” She leveled him with a sharp glare over the rim of her glasses, and he doubted she saw anything more than a blurry blob. “I think you can give me this favor.”
Laughter bubbled up in his chest; but he swallowed it in place of a professional smile. “Of course.” Two words and he’d cracked open a door to a creative bargain. “Though I decide the proper match for this favor.”
Rose pushed her glasses up. “What do you want?”
He nodded in the direction of the menorahs. “I’m in need of some good quality Chanukah candles, and you know the stores won’t have anything left.”
Rose crossed her arms. “Why?”
He opened his mouth. Closed it. How could he even begin to explain Andie, to a client, no less?
Rose pressed her hands together in a single clap. “I knew it, it is a girl, isn’t it? Mr. Workaholic finally found someone.”
Now his mouth hung open.
Rose laughed and turned, heading toward the menorahs. “I talk. As does your family. Is it serious?” She glanced over her shoulder, shrewd gaze locking on him.
“Uh.” He scratched the back of his neck. “It’s to make amends for a bad start.”
Rose nodded and arrived at the shelf, studying her collection. Up close, he realized it was even larger than he thought, and some were quite old by the looks of it. “Sounds like a story. The best starts are a story. Much like that clock. What colors does she like?”
Shit, what color would Andie like? He thought of her apartment, of the neutral tones with pops of bright color. Some blueish-greenish shade. At the very least, it would match her décor.
“Teal.”
“Ahh, a hard one to find. But don’t worry. I think I have something.” She pulled out a bunch, handing them to him, and then piling more and more on top until his chin held them steady. She rose to her tiptoes, one arm stretching to snag a box from near the back. The lighting in this part of the room was dim, and she angled it to catch the light.
“Will this do? I think that’s the best I’ve got.”
He studied the color, it felt close to the shades in Andie’s apartment. At the very least, it was a damn good option. “That’s perfect.”
She placed it on a higher shelf, then took the items in his arms and lined them back up to their former state of perfection.
Satisfied with her layout, she turned to him. “Do we have a deal?”
Leo nodded. “We do.”
“And pay for it?”
He held up the candles. “These are my commission, yes?”
Rose smiled.
Leo took a second look at his items, figured out the rates. Everything came with a bit of risk in this business, but he knew Rose and she knew her items. With the exception of the clock, he rarely had a bust with her.
He also didn’t have a huge win like he needed, but the glasses might be hiding something they both overlooked. If so, he’d make it up to her.
He turned his phone around, with the calculator app on screen. “This work for you?”
Rose lowered her glasses to get a better look. “Yes. It’ll do. Keep me updated on the clock. And the candles.”
Leo chuckled. “Will do.”