1 Lost Under a Ladder (5 page)

five

I slept reasonably well,
and my thoughts were on superstitions and their validity when I awoke.

Was that because Pluckie stood up at the side of the bed and pawe
d at me? I knew she was a lucky dog, and she seemed to be guiding
me to get out of bed on the same side I’d gotten into it. Wasn’t there a superstition to that effect? And did I care?

Whatever I’d dreamed, it must have included something about superstitions, but I still had no harbingers of things to come as Justin had suggested. Would my wish on a falling star help me find out answers today?

I showered and dressed quickly in a navy button-down shirt and
nice jeans, then leashed Pluckie to go downstairs for our morning walk.

Voices emanated from a room off the lobby where breakfast was being served. I didn’t see Serina at her front desk, so I assumed she was with her guests.

I peeked into that room. It was fairly large and populated by people filling plates at a food bar or sitting at tables. The scents emanating from there suggested cinnamon rolls and good, strong coffee, maybe more.

No one paid attention to me, which was fine. I turned and walked
outside with Pluckie.

We didn’t go far. I wanted to feed her in our room, then grab some
of that human breakfast to take with me on the walk to the Lucky Dog Boutique.

When Pluckie and I got back, Serina was at the registration desk on the phone. She waved as we went up the stairs.

I fed Pluckie her high-end kibble as I got ready for the day, placing everything I thought I’d need—like a sweater and some of her favorite toys—in a yellow MegaPets totebag. There were plenty of toys at the boutique, of course, but none were hers … yet.

When we returned back downstairs, Serina was off the phone. “Question for you,” I said to her. “There’s a possibility I’ll be in town longer than originally anticipated. Would you have room for me to stay here for a while?”

“How long?” She was once again wearing a frilly, old-fashioned outfit that looked quite good on her.

“I don’t know yet, but it could be indefinitely.”

Her grin grew broader, adding wrinkles to the sides of her pale brown eyes. “That’s great! And, yes, though I’m fairly full for the next few months, I’m sure we can work something out at a weekly rate. Just keep me informed about your schedule.” She leaned toward me. “This town’s superstitions are getting to you, aren’t they?”

“In a way.” I didn’t want to go into how superstitions might not only have helped to save Martha but also convince her I could help her till she got well. “I’ll have a better idea later today or tomorrow.”

Her apparent pleasure pumped mine up, too. She helped me col
lect a cinnamon roll and fruit in a bag as well as a tall cup of coffee to take along. Then Pluckie and I were on our way.

I headed up the street till we reached the Wish-on-a-Star Children’s Shop. We crossed the street, then turned right on Destiny Boulevard. The Lucky Dog Boutique was one store down.

On our way, I spotted a heads-up penny on the sidewalk and picked
it up. Would it bring me good luck? And was its being there an accident or just another quirk of Destiny?

I had fun watching all the other people who were up and about
early, many with dogs on leashes beside them. A few tour vans passed
by even this early, undoubtedly pointing out some of the shops to visitors.

I enjoyed my breakfast-to-go, mostly ignoring Pluckie’s begging
expression. “You ate already,” I told her. “And there’ll be water for you
once we reach the shop.”

We were there in a minute. I maneuvered the bag and coffee cup so I had a free hand, then pushed the door. It was locked. I pulled my phone from my pocket and checked the time. Nine thirty-five.

Though it was still earlier than the store opened, I was five minutes later than the time I’d told Martha. Had she gotten one of her usual employees to take care of the shop today? The possibility that she hadn’t tugged at my insides. I might wind up feeling I didn’t have a choice whether to stay.

“Oh, Pluckie, what am I going to—” I didn’t finish, since I saw a movement inside. A young lady, looking barely out of her teens, appeared from around a tall display and approached the glass-paned door. She looked worried as she unlocked the inside latch.

“Hi.” She studied me with light blue eyes beneath dark, arched brows. “Are you Rory?”

“That’s right. Are you one of Martha’s employees?”

“Yes, I’m Millie Weedin. Please come in.”

Pluckie and I obeyed, and she latched the door shut again behind us.

“What a wonderful, cute dog,” Millie gushed, kneeling to give
Pluckie a hug. “I talked to Martha on the phone, and she told me that
your dog’s very lucky and saved her life.”

I gave a slight shrug. “Maybe, but I’d imagine someone else would
have found Martha in time if Pluckie hadn’t.”

“
Maybe
’s the key word. Anyway, she saw this amazing, strange black and white dog and all came out well. She said she’ll be released from the hospital tomorrow and will be coming home. At first, she’ll be upstairs in her apartment and won’t be able to run the shop, but she told me about your background and said you might take over for a while.”

“Possibly,” I said. “For now I’d appreciate your showing me around
,
letting me know how things are run. That’ll help in the decision about how long I’ll be here.” That waffled enough for her to assume I was staying … or not.

“Sure. Even though Jeri, the other part-time assistant, knows a lot more than I do, I’ll show you some computer stuff now since we have a few minutes before we open. Once we’re open, I’ll show you what I know about our stock and inventory and whatever else you’d like to see—including how Martha taught me to wait on customers, assuming anyone comes in.”

“To a place called Lucky Dog Boutique?” I said. “I’ll bet we’ll be swamped today.” I hoped so for Martha’s sake … but maybe not so much for my own.

The computer was a laptop, locked in a drawer beneath the cash register until needed. The system looked logical, though different from what I was used to.

When the doors opened at ten, half a dozen people and two small
dogs strolled through them nearly immediately. I’d walked to the front
with Millie to watch what she did, and as the customers filed in she looked at me and smiled.

“Martha was right,” she murmured. “Pluckie and you are good luck.” She hurried toward the nearest group—a young couple plus their shih tzu mix. “May I help you find anything?” she asked.

I listened as they described wanting a special superstition-related
collar and toys for their pup. Millie led them to some items I’d noticed before and began hand-selling them.

Good employee
, I thought. I decided to act as if I really was the
tem
porary manager and approached another group, two women who
seemed interested in the amulets and other items inside the glass counter near the cash register. “May I help you?”

“Oh, yes,” said the older woman. I assumed they were a mother and
daughter. “Sally’s eighteenth birthday is in a couple of weeks, and we’ve started visiting shelters near our home. We’re going to get her a dog.”

Sally gave a huge smile. “Coming to Destiny is part of my celebration. I want to make sure my family and I all have good luck forever. My new dog, too, when we get her. So we’re collecting things to make sure that happens.”

I wound up selling them two matching dog-faced amulets. Sally said she’d wear one as a necklace and make sure her new pet wore the other. I borrowed Millie from her customers long enough for her to show me how to use the store’s credit card reader and cash register.

The other two people, a middle-aged couple, treated the Yorkie in the woman’s arms as if he was their kid. I saw a lot of that at my MegaPets store and identified with it with my own Pluckie, who stayed at my side. After taking some time to pick out a superstition-decorated collar, the customers paid cash and I took their money, made an appropriate record, and printed a receipt.

When I next glanced toward the door, Justin stood there. I’d thought
he’d intended to arrive here to get me when the store opened, but it was actually a good thing he was late since it had given me a chance to see the place in action.

And even to act as if I worked here.

As I drew closer, he smiled. “I was watching you. You looked right
at home.”

“Is that supposed to convince me to stay?”

“Does it?” he countered.

I shook my head, not in negativity but amusement. “Are we going out for coffee?”

“Do you want to?”

“Yes,” I said. “As long as it staves off more questions.”

He laughed. I turned and hurried around the store’s displays toward Millie, who was just finishing up with the last of the initial shoppers. No more had come in, but it was still early. I told her I’d be gone for a while.

“But you will be back?” She turned from her customers to regard me seriously. “Our other part-timer Jeri is coming in a little later to help out, but Martha promised that someone would act as manager in her absence, and she seemed sure it would be you.”

“Could be,” I waffled. “But it’s not definite yet.”

“Please make it definite as soon as possible,” Millie’s youthful face looked almost panicked. “I saw how well you did with those people
, and we really need someone like you.”

Instead of convincing me, though, Millie’s pushiness, combined
with knowing I faced something similar over coffee with Justin, nearly
made me run screaming out of there.

But I really did have to make up my mind fairly soon. And so far I still hadn’t accomplished what I’d intended by coming to Destiny.

Justin, Pluckie, and I walked a few doors down to the Beware-of-
Bubbles coffee shop. Outside it, I noticed a stand containing a few copies of the
Destiny Star
, a weekly ad-supported local paper I’d seen online while researching the town. Sometime while I was here I’d have to grab a free copy to actually read.

“Beware of Bubbles?” I asked Justin as we walked inside and I picked Pluckie up.

“There are a bunch of superstitions involving bubbles in coffee,” Justin said. “Some are good, but others involve bad luck.” At my urging he told me that big bubbles in coffee could mean you were about to get bad news, but other people thought they just meant someone you were meeting would be late. Smaller bubbles moving toward you could mean good fortune, but if they moved away the opposite was true.

“I never really paid attention to bubbles in my coffee,” I said as we
stepped up to the barista to order.

When I was handed my ordinary black coffee, I saw no bubbles at all. Just as well.

I enjoyed the additional time with Justin despite how, as I’d anticipated, he spent it trying in a nice way to continue the guilt trip he’d begun laying on me if I chose to leave before Martha resumed management of her boutique. Was being with him good luck or bad? Though I appreciated how he tried to help his senior friend, I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.

We soon left, each carrying our cups to go. I also held Pluckie’s leash, and she stayed right beside me.

Justin walked us back to the block where the Lucky Dog Boutique was, then said, “I’ll be in touch later. In fact, I’ll stop in and see how you’re doing at the shop.”

“And if I’ve decided to leave and I’m not there?”

He smiled. “Then I’ll definitely make sure that someone finds a superstition that says leaving town when your help is desperately needed for someone who’s ill brings bad luck.”

“You don’t believe that,” I countered. “From the way you’ve been talking, I suspect you’re like me and don’t really believe in superstitions.”

“Sssh.” He put his finger in front of his nicely-shaped masculine lips. “Don’t let anyone in this town hear you say that about me. I’ve settled here permanently.” He paused, reached out and touched me gently on the cheek. “And, Rory?”

“Yes?” I responded cautiously.

“Something in me, superstitious or not, tells me you might do the same thing.”

_____

Me? Live here permanently? I said goodbye to Justin as fast as I could after that and he headed west, toward where he said the police station was.

Instead of hurrying to the Lucky Dog Boutique, I stopped just short of it and entered the Broken Mirror Bookstore.

I’d been contemplating doing that all day and was delighted to see Kenneth Tarzal behind the counter at the far end of several shelves of books, talking with someone.

Maybe it was rude, but I caught his eye, planted a frantic expression on my face, and gestured to him pleadingly to join me.

He excused himself and approached. “Everything all right, Rory?”

“That depends,” I said. “Would you have a few minutes to talk with me? I really need you to convince me about the reality of superstitions.”

six

The tall guy’s greenish-hazel
eyes behind his bifocals blinked in apparent incredulity as he looked down at me. His sudden nearness was enough to get Pluckie to assume a defensive standing position. Knowing she was about to growl, I bent down and stroked her back. “It’s okay, girl.”

“Surely you don’t need convincing, or why would you be here?” That wasn’t Tarzal but the man he’d been talking to. He was shorter than Tarzal—as were most people—and heavier, with a thick silver beard emphasizing his chin and his jovial smile. On the lapel of his suit jacket was a pin depicting a leprechaun.

In fact, had this guy been a lot shorter and wearing green instead of gray, he could have been mistaken for a leprechaun, even more than the servers I’d seen at the Shamrock Steakhouse.

“That’s exactly why I am here.” Did the man assume everyone who visited Destiny believed that superstitions were real?

Maybe he did, considering who he was.

“Rory,” said Tarzal, “this is Destiny’s mayor, Bevin Dermot. Bevin, Rory’s the one who discovered Martha ill in her storeroom.”

“Actually,” I corrected, “it was Pluckie.” I gestured toward my sweet
dog, now sitting and watching both men. I knew she’d try to protect me if there was anything to protect me from, and I didn’t want anyone angry with her, especially someone in authority like the mayor.

“Welcome to both of you.” Bevin’s smile revealed white but uneven teeth. “And believe me, Rory, superstitions are very real.” He turned toward Tarzal. “You know that better than anyone, Kenneth.
And I don’t want to hear anyone else say you were teasing about whether
or not superstitions come true. You’re our town’s greatest authority on them. You wrote the book. Don’t make the mistake of trying to cause controversy about what we do here. It won’t help you sell any more of your books, I promise you.”

Interesting. I had the impression that I’d interrupted an intense and not particularly friendly conversation.

One in which Kenneth Tarzal, of all people, was being chastised for saying that those who believed in superstitions could be wrong?

“I hear you, Bevin. But you’re wrong about controversy. It can be a good thing, both for my book and for Destiny. More people will talk about us if we get that kind of publicity.”

“We do not want that kind of publicity.” Bevin’s face looked even
more leprechaun-like as it grew ruddier. He shut his eyes for a split second, opening them to look at me. “Don’t you worry about any of this, Rory. You may have some questions, but you already know that superstitions come true. You and your little black and white dog saved a life already, and I’m sure you know that dogs like yours are definitely good luck.” He smiled, then said, “See you again soon, Kenneth. Hope to see you again, Rory.” He turned and left the store.

“Were you pulling our mayor’s chain again, partner?” Preston Kunningham had just emerged through a door from the back of the bookshop. The smile on his face that he leveled on Tarzal didn’t appear particularly humorous.

“He makes it so easy.” Tarzal’s return smile also looked annoyed.

My turn to butt in. “But what he had to say … Gentlemen, can I buy you lunch later so we can talk about superstitions? I came here because of a … well, situation, that some people said was because a superstition came true. I didn’t believe in superstitions before, but now I’m not so sure. I’d love to discuss the possibilities with experts like you.”

“Of course, my dear,” Tarzal said. “We’d be delighted.”

But judging from the unreadable expression on Preston’s face, I wasn’t certain he agreed.

Since it was only mid-morning, we planned for me to come back in a couple of hours and we’d go someplace nearby to eat and talk. I looked forward to it.

Surely I’d get the best explanation of superstitions, where they came from, and how much validity they actually had—if any—from the man who’d written a definitive book on them. His business partner might have thoughts of his own about them, too.

Would they be honest with someone like me, a visitor, one of those
Destiny relied on for purchases and profits? I’d just have to weigh what they said by their attitudes as they said it.

Pluckie and I returned to the Lucky Dog next door. Millie was busy with some male customers with a pit bull on a leash—a well-behaved one who sat there and ignored my dog.

I gathered that another employee had also come in. A twenty-
something woman wearing a bright red Lucky Dog Boutique T-shirt
stood behind the glass showcase that held the superstition-related amulets, pointing some items out to an older couple who seemed fascinated.

I waved at Millie, and with Pluckie still leashed beside me I approached the clerk and her customers.

“Now if I were you,” that clerk was saying, “I’d start a special superstition animal charm bracelet. See there?” She pointed at an area where rows of animal-related enameled charms were tucked into velvet display boxes. “You can take a whole lot of good luck home with you: a rabbit’s foot, a white horse, a black and white dog.”

“Can I see them more closely?” the woman said.

“Of course.” The clerk noticed me then. “Cute dog.” She looked down at Pluckie. “I’ll be with both of you in a minute.”

Millie edged over. “This is Rory,” she said to the other clerk, her tone sounding as if she was introducing a movie star. “Rory, this is Jeri Mardeer. She works part-time like me. When she’s not here, she’s helping to run her family’s store down the street, Heads-Up Penny Gifts.”

“Oh, you’re Rory.” Jeri sounded somewhat awed. I had a feeling
that, in this town of superstitions, a story with a happy ending
would
be told and retold so often, with embellishments, that it could
wind
up sounding like more than even good luck had occurred—
miracles,
maybe?

“Good to meet you, Jeri.” And in some ways it was. She obviously knew the retail business since her family also owned a store. If I decided not to stay, maybe she could devote more time to the Lucky Dog.

“’Scuse me,” Millie said and returned to her customers.

Jeri’s customers, meanwhile, were still making up their minds about which charms to buy. “I’ve heard so many great things about you,” Jeri said to me. “About how your dog—what’s her name?”

“Pluckie,” I supplied.

“How Pluckie not only saved but brought good luck to Martha —by bringing you here. I mean, just like that, Martha needed someone to run this shop, and there you were, with all your pet store experience.”

“But I’m not sure—” I began but was interrupted by Jeri’s customers calling her over.

Millie finished her sale and approached me. “I hope it’s okay with you, but Martha always lets us have a half-hour break every morning when we’re here together, which isn’t very often, maybe one or two days a week. Right now, well, I hope it’ll be okay. Jeri and I are going out for lattes, but we’ll be back soon.”

I agreed, although I wasn’t sure I had a choice. And just like that I was there alone, in charge of the store.

As I’d said to Justin before, for all those young ladies, or even Martha, knew, I was a miserable, dishonest jerk who’d take all the money and expensive goods I could find here and run.

But of course I wasn’t.

Pluckie helped me wait on a woman with a Chihuahua who wanted
something nice and superstitious and expensive for her beloved little pet.

Then there was a family who wanted to know if we had any special superstition food for sale. I showed them to the shelves at the back of the store where some bags and cans among more standard, yet good quality, brands were labeled Good Luck Dog Food and Good Luck Cat Food. Was that for real, or just relabeled for sale here? I didn’t know.

The time went fast. I was almost surprised when Millie and Jeri returned. I smiled as both greeted me, asked how things had gone, and seemed pleased I’d had no issues working here alone.

They weren’t half as pleased as I was.

The time on the cash register’s digital display told me it was time for me to meet Tarzal and Preston for lunch.

“I need to go out for a while,” I told the two staff members. “Would
you mind keeping an eye on Pluckie for me?”

Worrywart that I am about my closest family member, I gave them explicit instructions, including keeping Pluckie on her leash and looping the other end over a hook I’d seen on the counter near the cash register.

“Don’t worry, she’ll be fine,” Jeri assured me.

Only then did I leave for my luncheon engagement.

_____

The Apple-a-Day Café was on Destiny Boulevard, a block from the Broken Mirror Bookstore and the Lucky Dog Boutique on the other side of the Beware-of-Bubbles Coffee Shop. The men closed their bookstore when we left and said they usually shut down for lunch anyway.

Preston talked nonstop, pointing out other stores and landmarks
that had to do with Destiny’s superstition theme. He even gave a brief rundown on the origin of the town, some of which I’d read online before heading here. Destiny had been founded by two Forty-Niners from California Gold Rush days. While panning for gold, they had spotted a rainbow, hurried to what they’d considered its end, and discovered a fortune in gold at the riverbank where they wound up. Subsequently devoting their wealthy lives to teaching the value of following superstitions like the one that led to their success, they had created a town a distance from the goldfields to honor their beliefs.

An interesting tale. Superstitions—at least one—had apparently
worked for those guys.

And the Rainbow B&B where I was staying was patterned at least somewhat on Destiny’s beginnings.

Nothing Preston said indicated whether he bought into the idea of superstitions. Not that it mattered. I figured I’d get more information from Tarzal.

Both men ordered drinks with their meals—hard liquor. Gin and tonics. Me? I needed to stay awake and keep my wits about me so I stuck with water.

The Apple-a-Day was large and crowded. The wait staff all looke
d like normal people. No leprechauns here, not even the mayor, although paintings obviously intended to represent various superstitions hung on the wall—with discreet price tags stuck into their corners. Apparently they’d been created by local artists who also wanted to capitalize on the superstition theme.

There was a lot of healthy stuff on the menu. I ordered a walnut-apple salad. The guys ordered sandwiches, but ones with lean meat and small salads on the side.

Once our orders were taken by a pretty young lady, I decided to jump right in. “So tell me, please,” I said to Tarzal. “With all the research you must have done to write your book, why do people believe in superstitions … and are they real?”

Sitting across from me, he bent his head to regard me over the top of his bifocals, even as he guffawed aloud. “Real? Well, let’s start with your first question.”

He glanced toward Preston, who regarded him sternly, as if trying to tell his business partner what to say.

Tarzal’s smile didn’t waver. “Here’s the thing, Rory. Superstitions have been around as long as mankind. I won’t go into a lot of detail.
You can read my book, where I talk about origins as well as supersti
tions. In general, they arose because someone would see or experience something unusual, like seeing a rainbow or a four-leaf clover, and then something wonderful would happen to them. Or something bad. Were they related? Probably not, but early men assumed they were and passed a description of the exciting event along to friends and family. Some of it evolved from religion, too. I can’t
swear that any superstition is real, that if you knock on wood or cross your fingers or whatever that you’ll have good luck. But if someone
does either of those things intentionally and his luck is good, his mind will relate them as cause and effect. If he doesn’t do them and nothing happens, then is that bad luck? That depends.”

“Then you’re actually a skeptic, too.” Our server had brought some delicious looking cheese rolls and I grabbed one, though my appetite had disappeared. Because I hadn’t knocked on wood perhaps?

“‘Too’? Then you’re not a believer? Why are you here?” That was Preston. He had also taken a roll and looked at me with apparent interest as he slathered butter on it.

Should I tell them? Why not? Maybe Tarzal, the superstition expert, would have an explanation, or at least an opinion that could help me find my own closure.

“Because I want to know the reality of superstitions.” Not wanting to meet either man’s gaze, I took a sip of water and gazed at one of the paintings on the wall—the one depicting a ladder and a man staring at it, as if daring himself to walk under it.

Feeling my eyes moisten, I drew in my breath, then told them my story, about how my fiancé Warren had walked under a ladder, then died. Not because the ladder fell on him or anything logical.

“He was a CPA who worked at an accounting firm in an office building in downtown Los Angeles. He went outside at lunchtime one day. A nearby shop was having repair work done on its exterior. I’m not sure whether he was even aware that he had walked under that ladder since it leaned over the sidewalk. Some construction e
quipment fell, and although Warren wasn’t struck by it, a car swerved
to avoid it and hit him. Killed him.” I realized I’d been holding my breath as I said this and made myself exhale.

For the first time during this meal, I wished that I, too, had ordered an alcoholic beverage.

I was surprised when Preston reached over and gently took hold of my arm. “I’m so sorry for your loss, my dear.”

“Me, too,” Tarzal said. I glanced up at him and did see sympathy in his expression. And was that a gleam in his eye, too? Was he going to use this in his next version of his book or something else, proof that superstitions did come true?

“So what do you think,” I asked him confrontationally. “Is that a sign of the reality of superstitions?”