3. Paige
Chapter 3
Paige
I turn the key in the lock on the door and push my way inside the musty shop. The tiny bell at the top of the entryway rings as I enter and take a look around. Growing up in and around antique stores, they all start to look the same. And The Cuckoo’s Nest is really no different. The walls of this particular shop are lined with larger pieces like old dressers, washstands, bookcases, sideboards, hall trees, and armoires.
Stacked along inside shelves are numerous types of antiques from glassware to rotary phones, and others old pieces like costume jewelry, candlesticks, and old silverware. The smell is what I’m familiar with the most. The typical scent from bacteria mixing in with the old wood and metals around the shop that too many store owners, my aunt and uncle included apparently, ignore because “Hey, that’s antiques for you.”
Shaking my head, my eyes narrowing as I cover my nose, I open a few windows, stopping at the large front picture window by the door.
“What the heck is this?” I ask aloud when I notice the empty window space. The area is completely bare of any kind of interesting antiques that might bring in customers. “How are customers going to be drawn in here with just a sign that says OPEN ?”
This window needs a huge display.
I spin around, taking in the store as a whole. It could definitely be reorganized to make walking through it a little more efficient. To be honest this whole place needs a facelift. It feels outdated and a bit rundown.
“There’s no reason it can’t look nice in here,” I mumble, already thinking of display ideas for that front window.
Aunt Rosie and Uncle Javan asked me to take over while they travel for the summer and gave me carte blanche when it comes to making changes to the shop. Perhaps if I can show them what shops like this are capable of, my dad would finally allow me to have my own part of Starling’s Enterprises. Antiques are my life just as it was theirs. I’ve spent years learning from the best of my family about the ins and outs of the antique business. I went to school and earned my business degree so I could be of more help to the family, but for whatever reason they’ve been dragging their feet. I’m almost thirty years old. It’s way past time for me to spread my wings and fly on my own.
Hopefully, during these next couple of months, I can prove that.
First things first. This smell has to go and in order for that to happen, I need to clean. Taking stock quickly in what the shop does and does not have in their supply closet, I make a quick list on my phone. I toss my purse over my shoulder and grab my keys, stepping out of The Cuckoo’s Nest where I run into two older ladies peering into the shop window.
“Oh, good morning, ladies. Can I help you with something?”
“You’re not Rosie,” one lady says to me with a twist of her lips. She’s dressed oddly in a pair of light blue sweatpants and purple windbreaker jacket straight out of the eighties, which of course makes me wonder if maybe Aunt Rosie sold it to her right here in this shop. She’s sporting a pair of bright white tennis shoes on her feet and is wearing binoculars around her neck.
“No, I’m sorry. I’m not.” I give them both a friendly smile even though they seem a bit put off by my presence. “My name is Paige Starling. I’m Rosie’s niece. I’ll be running the shop for them while they’re traveling.”
“Traveling,” the other woman says, her hand flailing out to her side. “That’s right. She did say they were leaving the other day.”
“Yes, I’m sorry to say they’re planning to be gone for the summer. Can I tell them you stopped by?”
The first woman fixes her tight white curls. She kind of reminds me of Betty White, which makes me automatically want to be her friend. “Oh, of course dear. Where are our manners?” She extends her hand to shake mine. “I’m Judy Woodcock and this is Lilith Pierce.”
“It’s lovely to meet you both,” I tell them. “Are you bird watching or something?” I gesture to their necks. “It’s not every day you see people walking through the streets with binoculars around their necks.”
“Oh, you must not be from Tuft Swallow then.”
I shake my head. “Nope. I’m from Indigo Bay.”
“Well then let me be the first to officially welcome you to Tuft Swallow.”
“Thank you very much.”
“And you’ll soon learn binoculars in this town are, indeed, an everyday occurrence here in Tuft Swallow Ms. Starling.” Mrs. Pierce smiles. “Judy and I are Tit Peepers.”
I cock my head, nearly choking on my own saliva. “Sorry.” I cough. “What did you say?”
Mrs. Woodcock repeats her friend. “The Tit Peepers. We’re a bird watching group that meets here in town.” The sparkle in her eyes shows her pride and excitement. “Oh, we see all kinds of birds. We’ve spotted black-backed woodpeckers and bay-breasted warblers. We just saw the elusive Bicknell’s Thrush last Tuesday!”
Not knowing at all what a Bicknell’s Thrush is, I nod excitedly anyway. Wouldn’t want to upset the Tit Peepers. “Wow. That’s magnificent.”
“It really is,” she says, beaming. “You never know what you might catch sight of when you pay attention. We Tit Peepers see all kinds of things around this town.”
I’m sure you do.
“Well, perhaps you’ve seen a place around here where I could grab a few cleaning products? I’m pretty new to the town so I don’t know my way around just yet.”
Mrs. Pierce gives me a confident nod. “Oh, that’s easy. You’ll want to stop over at The Whippoorwill. That’s the grocery store just outside of the square. They should have everything you’re looking for over there.”
“Great. Is it close enough to walk to?”
“Yes ma’am.” Mrs. Woodcock points down the road. “This is Birch Avenue so you’ll want to just follow this road here about two blocks or so. Can’t miss it.”
“Perfect. Thank you so much. It was nice to meet you both. Please feel free to come back and see me.”
Mrs. Pierce chuckles and gives me a quick wink holding her binoculars in her hand. “Oh, we’ll be sure to keep an eye on you, dear.”
I have no doubt you will.
I wave to the ladies and make my way down the road toward the Whippoorwill, counting on four fingers the number of people I have now met since arriving in Tuft Swallow.
Okay, five fingers if I count Winston the goat.
“Sooo, how’s it going in Tuft Swallow?” my best friend, Ella, asks me. I take another bite of the grilled chicken salad I purchased at The Whippoorwill this morning while taking a break from cleaning and shrug to my friend, thankful for the steady cell phone reception in the shop.
“Let’s see.” I pause while I chew. “So far, I’ve nearly hit a goat in the middle of the road subsequently running my car into a muddy ditch because, oh yeah, it was raining last night. Helped the goat get to his owner’s house only for said owner to not say more than two or three words to me.” I cock my head. “Actually, now that I think about it, I’m not sure any of the words he said at all were specifically to me. I think he spoke more to his goat than to me.”
Ella laughs on the other end of the line. “Wait…what?”
“Yep. So, I returned the goat, went back to my car in the rain only to not be able to get it out of the ditch so I had to walk to Aunt Rosie and Uncle Javan’s sopping wet. Oh, and it turns out, me and Winston’s hot dad are neighbors so that’s a thing.”
“Who’s Winston?”
“Oh. Right. Winston is the goat.”
Her brows peak. “And his owner is hot?”
“I mean, he’s not…not hot. Remember Mutt from Schitt’s Creek ?”
“Yeah.”
I gesture with my fork before taking another bite. “He bears a striking resemblance.”
Ella snickers. “Strong silent type huh?”
“Totally.”
“Okay, so what else?”
“Umm, so I made it into the store this morning and?—”
“So, you got your car out of the ditch then?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “Turns out Winston’s hot dad moved it for me last night. Didn’t even say anything to me about it. I asked him after finding out he’s the town mechanic. But get this, he wouldn’t even let me pay him for his service.”
Ella winks at me through the phone. “Maybe you can pay him in other services.”
“Shut up. That’s not funny. He’s my neighbor.” I chew my bite and swallow. “And also, he doesn’t talk. I don’t know what his problem is. He’s either some kind of conceited asshole or…I don’t know. Maybe he just doesn’t like people. And I like people so we wouldn’t mix. But anyway, moving on. I also met these two old ladies this morning. I swear I need to get a picture of them the next time I see them because you would’ve died at their very eighties-esque outfits. They carried binoculars around their necks and said they’re Tit Peepers.”
Ella spits out her drink, grabbing a napkin to wipe her chin and the front of her shirt. “Did you say Tit Peepers?”
I nod. “Yeah! Apparently it’s some bird-watching group but I get the impression they spend time gazing at uh…well, not just birds. Let’s put it that way.”
“So let me get this straight. You almost ran into a goat, got your car stuck in the mud, met Mutt Schitt’s doppelganger, and ran into a couple of tit peepers?”
I laugh with her because this all sounds ludicrous. “Yeah. That about covers it.”
“Girl, your life is a never-ending adventure. But how’s the store?”
“It’s a mess. Dirty as hell and smelled like old things when I walked in here. I’m spending the day cleaning and coming up with a front window display like Dad has me do back home. Then I’ll slowly reorganize this place. It definitely has potential to be a beautiful little shop and it’ll give me something to focus on for the summer.”
“Oh, that’s so great! I always love seeing your window displays. You have a creative eye.”
“Thanks. I’m thinking about a summer theme. Hopefully, it’ll draw some attention to the shop and I can help revitalize this place a little. But enough about me. What about you? Have you decided what you want to do?”
She shakes her head. “Nah. Not yet. I keep going back and forth. Auggie thinks I should move to L.A. and live with him while I hunt for a new job.”
“L.A.” I give her a hearty frown. “But that’s so far away. Like other side of the country far.”
“Yeah I know. I’m just not sure what I want to do and I miss being able to see one of my best friends. We’ve known each other forever. Life without Auggie is…”
“I know. I get it. I can’t replace your childhood best friend.”
She chuckles. “Did I ever tell you we made this pact when we were like, ten years old, that if neither of us was married by the time we turn thirty we would marry each other?”
I laugh. “No, you never mentioned it. You better start planning that wedding then because you don’t have twenty years to wait it out like you did back then.”
“Right? Ugh. Maybe there would be some new hot guys in California.”
“And you don’t think that would break Auggie’s heart?”
“What?” Ella’s eyes narrow. “No. Not at all. He would be ecstatic to see me happy and settled down. Why?”
Somehow I doubt that.
“Oh. Well, I just assumed he had a crush on you or something?”
“Auggie?” She laughs. “No way. We’ve just been friends for life. Plus, with his hockey schedule he would never be home so it would never work anyway.”
“Ah, right. True.”
I’ll let her figure that one out on her own.
Ella checks her watch. “I should go. Fourth graders wait for nobody and this substitute needs to get her shit together before the recess bell rings.”
“Have fun with that, friend. I miss you. Let’s talk again soon, okay?”
“Absolutely. Bye, Paige.”
I wave to my bestie. “Later Ella.”
I pull into the short driveway after a long tiring day of cleaning, moving, and reorganizing. Having a clearer idea of what I want to do with the front window tomorrow I decided to call it a day and head home, but not without stopping for a few special gifts from Bun in the Oven. If Winston’s dad won’t let me give him cash for helping with my car, I’m certain he wouldn’t turn away treats from the bakery. Especially when I got it on good authority from the owner that Dutch apple pie and butterscotch oatmeal cookies are his favorite.
His truck isn’t in his driveway like it was last night, but that doesn’t mean he’s not home. I didn’t see him at the shop when I drove around so if for some reason he’s not home, I’m sure he will be soon. I step up to his front door and ring the doorbell, but nobody answers.
“Maaaaaaaa.”
I turn my head and notice a few goats milling around in the pen on the side yard. They’re cute little things, some jumping and playing together, some munching on grass, and some watching my every move.
“Sorry, guys,” I tell them, walking away from the front door and over toward their pen. “These treats aren’t for you guys. But maybe I can ask your daddy what you eat and bring you something special next time, okay?”
“Maaaaaaa.”
I reach over the fence to pet the goat bleating at me. Unlike Winston’s all-white coloring, this goat looks like him in terms of breed but has white wool with patches of black.
“You’re a handsome fella, aren’t you? I think I’ll call you Mr. Patches. How does that sound?”
“Maaaaaaa.” The goat hops up on the fence knocking the pie and cookies I’m holding in my hand off balance.
“Wait! No! Ungh!!”
It all happens so fast, and before I know it, I’m watching the pie tin and bag of cookies fall from my hand into the goat pen. Mr. Patches—that’s what I’m calling him because I don’t know his name—stomps on the pie tin, effectively squishing the beautiful dessert, and dips his face into the gooey mess. The rest of the goats don’t wait for an invitation. They’re fast on their feet and all come running to see what kind of snacks they can get their mouths on.
“Shit! Wait, Mr. Patches! Goats! No! I don’t know if you can eat that!” I shout as I turn my head in both directions, looking for the gate to the fence. Spotting it on at the back corner, I nix the idea of running all the way back there and instead hoist myself onto the fence focused solely on saving the lives of these goats. I climb over the top rung and simply jump rather than climb down the other side. The moment I let go of the fence though, I realize what a horrible decision I’ve made. The ground is soft from all the rain the area has had these past few days—the entire state has had a wet summer—and my foot slips in the grass and mud, causing me to fall backwards, becoming a muddy, hay-covered mess.
“Oof!”
As I lie there on the ground, three small goats jump over my body to get to the sweet snacks waiting for them mere feet from me. I roll myself over and try to get up to intercede but it’s too late. The bag of cookies has been ripped open and consumed and one goat has the pie tin in his mouth. He raises his head and stares at me as if we’re about to duel. I put my hands up and try to sweet talk him into giving me the pie tin because it’s bad enough they just consumed an entire apple pie and bag of cookies. But if they eat this tin pie plate and end up with shards of sharp foil in their tummies, I would never forgive myself. And Winston’s hot dad would probably become Winston’s murderously hot dad and I wouldn’t live to see another day.
“Okay, little goat. It’s okay,” I sweet talk him slowly as we face off. “I’m going to need you to just drop the plate, okay? You got to taste the sweet pie and I bet it was super yummy, but I’m going to need you to drop the plate. Can you do that? Can you drop it for me?”
Yeah. I’m really here right now. In the middle of a goat pen. Pleading to a goat.
I take one step closer to him but then some of the other goats cause a commotion and the one with the pie plate in his mouth runs off.
“No wait!”
I don’t have a choice. I have to run after him because no way in hell am I going to be known around here as the goat killer.
Not today, Satan. Not today.
I whirl around the yard after the asshole goat, who is clearly enjoying this game of chase, all but certain I look like a complete fool. He trots around the perimeter of the fence, stopping every twenty yards or so to look back for me before continuing on and I’m just here running like my life depends on it as if I can easily outrun a goat.
What was I thinking?
“Come on, goat! Just be a good boy!” I pant, trying my best to run after him in the slippery conditions. Stopping for a moment, I bend over and place my hands on my knees to catch my breath and wouldn’t you know it, the little four-legged asshole trots himself right up beside me.
“Yes,” I breathe. “That’s a good boy. Thank you.”
No sooner do I reach my hand out to grab the plate from his mouth than he jumps back, pulling me with him until I lose my footing and slip and fall face first into one of the bigger muddy areas of the pen.
“Fuck!”
“Maaaaaaa.”
“Yeah. I know. Thanks for the mud bath,” I tell him as I turn myself over and try to wipe the mud from my face. “It’s a good thing you’re cute.”
The stupid fucker looks at me with pride in his eyes and drops the pie tin in my lap before happily scampering away with his friends.
“Of course,” I mumble, defeated, but relieved he didn’t try to tear the plate apart and swallow it. Many of the goats surround me as I trudge through the yard back to the fence with nothing but my pride and even that is on shaky ground right now.
“Sorry guys. You ate it all. There’s nothing left and now I need a four-hour shower.” I lift my leg to the bottom rung of the fence just as Winston’s hot dad comes up the road and turns into his driveway. I can feel his eyes on me already. Or maybe that’s just my guilt.
I mumble to myself as I climb over, “Dammit. You couldn’t have waited five more minutes?”