Clock and Dagger (3 page)

A
n hour later, Ben and I drove up to the back of the stores, ready to unload. The Cog & Sprocket was at the edge of downtown, on the corner across from the church and the town graveyard, just on the other side of the bridge. It butted up to the utility road that ran parallel to the river, which all of the businesses used for parking and loading along the back of the shops. Since my store was on a corner, I could walk around and peer at Beckett's store across the street. Or not. Today, I was just as happy to avoid seeing it.

“Let me help you get this in the store,” Ben said.

“I can hear Blue barking from here,” I said, looking toward his shop. “He probably wants to go out—go ahead and get him.”

“You're sure?” Ben smiled and started to back up toward his door.

“Positive. But wait, take the trays of food with you. Make sure that Blue can't get at them.”

“We're going to use the shop as a food staging station. I'll put them in there. Don't worry, it's a no-Blue zone. The river isn't, though, so I'm going to go up and give him a good run before he gets cooped up again.”

The river had been both the lifeblood of Orchard and the cause of its near death. The currents had powered several mills, providing both power and water for crops and livestock. But then Orchard had almost been wiped off the map in the early part of the 1900s by a particularly horrifying flood. She'd been rebuilt over time, but most people had moved. Some well-placed dams helped control the river, but Orchard had never regained its prominence in the Berkshires.

I picked up as many of the shopping bags as I could and walked up the back stairs to the shop. I was halfway up when the back door swung open. Nancy Reed stood in the doorway, outlined by the warm glow of the workroom. She looked more like Moira's sister than her mother. Nancy's dark brown hair was flecked with gray, there were laugh lines on her face, and her figure was a little more filled out. But the brown eyes were the same, framed by dark lashes and strong brows. She didn't wear makeup; she didn't need it. Nancy treated me like her own daughter, which gave me no end of pleasure.

“There you are! Great timing—we just got the food loaded into the barbershop until the party. Pat is out buying more ice for drinks. I'd have thought by now we'd have some snow. Always so handy for keeping bottles cold during parties. Anyway, why don't you hand the bags up to me,” she said, leaning over the top of the stairs.

“Are you sure?”

“They're paper, aren't they? The stairs are what kill me, not the lifting.”

I handed her the bags, and she passed them to someone behind her. It didn't take us long to unpack the entire contents of the SUV.

“What's this?” Nancy asked, looking in the last bag and holding up the birthday napkins. “Great, glad you remembered them. I'll hide these till later. Remind me that I put them in the old grandfather case. We want to keep this a surprise.”

Nancy Reed and I had decided not to tell Caroline about the birthday celebration we had planned for her later tonight. Caroline was a private person and wouldn't even let us post her picture on the website, never mind having a fuss made over her birthday. I'd given in to no picture on the website, but I was going to make a fuss about her birthday, albeit a small one.

I'd stayed with Caroline while the Cog & Sprocket was being renovated. Not really with her. Though there was plenty of room at the cottage, Caroline was desperately allergic to Bezel, the cat I'd inherited along with the shop. Bezel and I had become a unit, so I stayed in the barn. This wasn't a hardship. The barn only looked like a barn, to sidestep some building ordinance in Orchard. Inside, it had a fully functioning workshop, temperature-controlled storage, and a studio apartment for guests. The barn was built with one side facing the lake, and that side was full of windows. The views were stunning, and Bezel and I were very happy during our stay. At first I'd kept to myself, but soon Caroline and I had fallen into a routine of having dinner together, and we'd become friends.

I carried the last bag into the Cog & Sprocket and closed the door tightly behind me. I looked out toward the front of the shop and smiled at the sight. The renovations down here had been limited, but significant to the operations. Basically, we'd opened it all up and replaced walls with sliders that could be locked into place. The air-filtering system had been upgraded, since dust was the enemy of clock and watch repair. And we'd built a painting booth so that small clocks could be refinished without asphyxiating everyone else. Larger pieces would be worked on out at the barn. Given the huge inventory G.T. and Caroline had bought last summer, there was still a preponderance of clocks on display, and in storage. But now the customer visiting the Cog & Sprocket could come in and browse at their leisure. I was hoping to make the shop a destination where people could come and fall in love with clocks.

“Did you buy out the store?” Nancy asked as she unloaded the bags, putting the contents into different piles. Nancy Reed was a force, but a force for good. She and her husband Pat worked for, or with, most of the shops on the POL cards. I knew she was as nervous as the rest of us about the open house, and whether or not we could pull it off.

“I bought enough for all three events this week: tonight's open house, the New Year's Town Hall celebration, and the opening of the Cog & Sprocket. So, yes, I sort of did buy out the store. Is it wrong to hope we run out?”

Nancy laughed. “My fear is always to not have enough food, but at the same time, too many leftovers make me feel like a failure. Wish we knew how many folks to expect tonight.”

“Did you hear about this?” I said, pulling a copy of the
Marytown Shopper
out of one of the bags.

“Wow, isn't that something. Your hair looks great in this picture. Does Nadia know?”

“I'm not sure,” I said, self-consciously patting my hair, which was knotted on the top of my head. “She didn't say anything to me if she did.”

“Does Nadia know what?” Nadia said, coming down from upstairs. During the renovations, we'd created a small workspace in the attic as an office space. Since the shop was more open, computer work that needed quiet now had a dedicated place. Besides, it got Nadia out of public view, since customer service wasn't her forte. Space was tight, but Pat Reed had created a hallway upstairs, with a lot of built-in storage for different clock pieces. It was accessible to everyone in the shop, but safe from nosy customers. The stairs to the attic were off the hallway, as was the door to my apartment.

“Nadia, did you know the
Marytown Shopper
published the story you pitched?” I handed the younger woman the paper. It was hard to read her eyes behind her horn-rimmed glasses, but I did detect a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Cool,” she said quietly.

“Really cool,” I agreed. “Great job. Let's hope it helps bring people out tonight. Did I read somewhere that the temperature is going to drop?”

“It is going to be in the thirties. Not bad at all by New England standards. We've been working the social media pretty hard. I think there will be a great crowd.” Nadia sounded happier than I'd ever heard her. Letting her run the
marketing for this promotion had obviously been a good move. Honestly, it had been my only move, since no one else could do it. I'd put a lot on her twenty-year-old shoulders, but she'd carried it all well.

“I think so too. Could you help us down here?”

“She's been a big help already,” Nancy said. “She dropped off the cards and the displays, plus some postcards, to the library and the Sleeping Latte. Even helped some of us old folks understand how to use that little doohickey on the back of the card.”

“QR code,” Nadia said, laughing. “We want to make it really easy for everyone to use, no matter how comfortable they are with technology.”

“You've done a good job.”

“We've all done a good job,” Ada Clark said. She took a breath and sat down on a stool.

“Ada, I didn't know you were here. Are you all right?” I asked. Ada's first baby was due in three weeks, but I for one didn't know how she was going to last that long. Everything about Ada was tiny, except for her belly, which seemed to grow every time I saw her. I could tell she was uncomfortable, though she'd never tell anyone. She and her husband, Mac, ran the Corner Market pretty much alone, and she was determined to keep working for as long as possible. Their business needed her.

“I'm fine. I came down here to help, but I guess I missed the unloading of the car.” Ada rubbed her belly and closed her eyes. She had dark circles underneath them, which were highlighted by the paleness of her skin. “I think I need to get a nap in before tonight, though. Nancy, are we all set?”

“We are,” Nancy said. “Each store is part of the scavenger
hunt Nadia and I organized for tonight. See these cards? Tonight only, if folks go to all six locations on the POL cards and get an employee in the store to sign off, they get a goody bag. When we give out a goody bag, Nadia wants us to post a picture of the winner to social media. She's walked us all through that, but you don't need help with that, do you?” I shook my head “no” and bit my inner cheek to keep from laughing. If Nadia could get Nancy to post pictures to Facebook she had more powers than I thought. “Anyway, we've made a hundred and fifty goody bags, and we're leaving a few in each store.”

“A hundred and fifty?” I said. “Isn't that a lot?”

“We have no idea. We have everything to make more if we need to. If we don't need them all, we'll stick a Cog & Sprocket sticker on them and use them for your grand opening. Nadia, why don't you walk Ada back to her shop and help carry her postcards?”

“Aye aye, Captain Nancy. Then I'm going to find Tuck, go home, and get dressed. I'll be back by four to help set up.” Nadia almost seemed excited. My apathetic, eye-rolling Nadia. Will wonders never cease?

“R
uth, what are you going to do now?” asked Nancy, arranging the last of the goody bags beneath one of the counters. “How about a cup of tea?”

I thought about the dozen things I had on my to-do list and was about to rattle off a few, but then I really looked at Nancy's face. She obviously wanted to talk about something, but unlike her normal straightforward behavior, she was hemming and hawing. I decided to let her off the hook and make it easier for her to talk.

“Sure, I could always go for a cup of tea. Let's go upstairs.”

I grabbed my coat and bag and brought both with me. I unlocked the door to the apartment and held it open for Nancy.

“Oh my. Doesn't this look wonderful?” she said.

“You were here two weeks ago, helping me paint.” I laughed.

“Hey, I was just painting, which I like to do, and second-guessing your color choices. Which I also like to do. I had no idea it would all end up looking like this.”

I loved my new apartment. When I'd moved in, the space was cluttered with boxes, furniture, clocks in midrepair, walls that were in the process of being removed, and antiquated fixtures. Even though Caroline said I could stay in the barn as long as I wanted, the renovation had to be both fast and thrifty. I was anxious to move in above the store and to be able to walk down the steps to work. So the choices we made were to finish taking down the walls, change out the kitchen fixtures but keep the footprint, refinish the floors, and paint the walls. I'd decided on an open floor plan, with a movable screen that I could put in front of the bedroom area if I had guests. The only splurge I'd made was in the bathroom. I kept the old clawfoot tub, but had Pat Reed put in a separate shower. It was an indulgence, but heaven compared to the low, awkward shower that it replaced. If I was going to live here, there would have to be some special tall-girl accoutrements.

“I'm glad you kept the old woodwork,” Nancy said. “I was afraid you were going to paint over it.”

“I couldn't—it is too beautiful,” I said as I set the kettle on the stove and chose my least chipped mugs down from the cabinets. “I remember my grandmother explaining that Harry, her father-in-law, kept tradesmen working during the Great Depression by offering them odd jobs in the shop if business slowed down. The cabinetmakers started to do upgrades around here, which is why there are so many great appointments.”

“It all shows really wonderfully. As I said, I was doubting your color choices, but you obviously know what you're doing.”

I blushed with pride. I had used shades of white on most of the walls. But I had accent walls helping define the space. Tomato red in the kitchen area, blue in the bedroom area, and yellow in the sitting area—just one wall of each. The colors, along with black and white, were used in fabric and accent pieces as well. The furniture was old, but the patterns were modern.

“It's a tiny space, but it's just me these days, so it's fine. Whoops, sorry, it's me and Bezel.” As if on cue, the large gray beauty came out from the bedroom area, stretching as she walked forward and came over to say hello.

Nancy reached down, and Bezel walked over and headbutted Nancy's hand and rubbed her head in the palm. Nancy finished saying hello to Bezel in a voice she used on no one other than the shop cat. “Is she behaving herself on the furniture?” Nancy asked, looking up at me.

“She is. She's a very well-behaved cat, for the most part. When she isn't, it's usually for good reason. And my fault,” I said.

Nancy laughed and stood up. “Your furniture is lovely. Was it all your grandmother's?” she asked. “I don't recognize some of the pieces.”

“I got the couch and the kitchen table in my divorce.”

“I'm surprised you wanted to keep them,” she said, turning to look more closely at the table.

“Me too,” I laughed, “but it's a nice couch, and a great table. I'm a girl on a budget.”

“It all looks terrific, now that you've moved in. I still think it's a shame that you gave up some of the space in front.”

“The shop is desperate for storage space, you know that. Plus, we decided to give me a little more privacy, since we
added a bathroom and kitchenette on the first floor, and that required some structural building out. As I said, it's just me. Counting Bezel, us. This is plenty of room.”

“It won't always just be you,” Nancy said, raising her eyebrows.

“I don't know. I wasn't a terrific success at being married,” I said, trying to laugh it off. I pushed away from the kitchen counter where I had been leaning to answer the squeal of the boiling teakettle. Truth be told, I'd probably still be married if my husband hadn't found a newer model. These days, the idea of being Eric Evan's wife made me sad, rather than wistful. Imagine what I would have missed? Moving back here, owning my own shop? Eric would have insisted I sell it. Life worked out the way it was supposed to, and for that I was grateful.

“I was lucky to meet Pat when I did. We've been very happy all these years. I guess I want you girls to be as happy as we are,” Nancy said, sitting down at the table.

“We girls” were Nancy and Pat's daughter, Moira, and I. Moira was the only Reed daughter and the apple of her father's eye. She and her mother worked together every day, and were too much alike for it to be smooth sailing all the time. Still, Nancy's critiques came from a place of love, and Moira recognized that, most of the time. The when-are-you-going-to-get-married? mantra was getting pretty old, though.

“You know, Nancy, I can't speak for Moira,” I said, dropping tea bags into the steaming mugs and placing one in front of each of us at the table, “but if I found someone who made me as happy as Pat makes you, I'd get married again. I can't wait for that to happen in order to be happy though, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. All right, I'll stop trying to fix you up
with Ben Clover. Oh, stop, don't act so surprised. He's the best-looking guy in town.”

“Why aren't you fixing him up with Moira, then?” I asked, feeling another blush rise.

“Moira's got eyes for Jeff Paisley. You know that.”

“I don't know that, Nancy. At least, she hadn't told me that.” She didn't have to, of course. I'd noticed how she looked at him. Jeff Paisley was always all business, on the job twenty-four/seven.

Nancy played with her mug of tea and then looked up at me. This face, with the furrowed brow and anxious expression, wasn't what I expected from Nancy Reed. After everything that happened last fall, my relationship had moved to another level with Nancy. Now we were confidantes as well as friends. Though, I still, at times, wished she were my mother.

“Nancy, what's the matter? You look worried.”

“Oh, Ruthie. I am worried. I'm worried about you. I'm worried about Moira. I'm worried about Ben Clover. I'm even worried about Flo Parker, for heaven's sake, and that woman has more business lives than a cat. You all, we all, have put so much of ourselves in these shops. What happens if this open house idea doesn't take off? Have you thought about that? I know that Moira is worried about cash flow this winter, especially if the roads get bad and the students stop coming by. You must have invested a fortune in the Cog. What happens if business doesn't kick in the way you want it to? I worry . . .”

“I know you do, and I love you for it. We talked about this after Christmas dinner. We'll all be all right for a while. So, what else is going on?” I said, sensing that there was still more she was holding on to.

Nancy sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. “It's Beckett Green. I heard about his latest idea to bring in customers.”

“Since they shut down the coffee shop idea, I thought we were done.”

“He's still going to serve coffee. For free, no less. A chain store in Marytown is going to bring over the coffee urns, so he won't have to make it on site. He blames you for that, by the way.”

“I asked if the building was up to code for a restaurant. Simple question,” I said.

“A simple question that stopped that conversation for now. Then, to spite us all, he went outside of Orchard to get a coffee vendor, rather than giving Moira the business. But he isn't stopping there. Apparently, Beckett has decided to expand his business a bit more. He's going to start selling clocks and watches.”

I tried to laugh, but couldn't. The Cog & Sprocket was all about the art of horology and the craft of clock making. We'd even started to investigate fine-watch repair, since Mark Pine had apprenticed with a watchmaker and had interest in furthering his knowledge. But quality came at a price, and I was still trying to figure out how to keep us all employed. That was already hard enough without competition across the street.

“What kind of clocks and watches?” I asked.

“I don't know,” Nancy said, staring into her mug. “All I know is that he has decided to put you out of business.”

“Ruthie, you upstairs?” Pat Reed bellowed up the staircase, startling Bezel from her cozy perch on the back of the couch.

I tried to respond, but my mouth was too dry. I felt the color drain from my face. That rat—what did I ever do to cross Beckett Green? Yeesh. This I didn't need.

“We're both up here,” Nancy called out.

I took a careful sip of tea.

“It looks like we're almost finished setting things up down here,” Pat called up. I could hear stairs creaking under his weight. “Ruth, I'd like you to check out the placement of the screen downstairs. I want to make sure we show enough of the stock to be interesting, but that we make folks want to come back for the grand opening next week.” Pat kept talking as he entered the room. He leaned over and gave Nancy a peck on her cheek. He turned toward me, and stopped.

“Ruthie, what's the matter? You're as pale as a ghost.”

“I told Ruth that Beckett Green had decided to put her out of business. She didn't take it well.”

“You told her what? For the love of Pete, Nancy, what are you trying to stir up?”

“I'm not stirring anything up. You know he has it in for her. He has it in for everyone. A terrible man, that Beckett Green.”

“He does not have it in for Ruthie. Honestly, Nancy, sometimes I wonder about you.”

“Pat,” I said, “did you know that Beckett was going to sell clocks and watches?”

“I'd heard something about watches, from Mark. He went out of his way to tell me they were cheap plastic watches. I hadn't heard about the clocks, but I can't imagine they'll be high-end,” Pat said. Pat was a peacekeeper, so I wasn't really surprised I hadn't heard this yet, but still.

“What's he doing?” I said. I hated how pitiful I sounded. Pat didn't seem to notice.

“Beckett is a self-important jackass who is trying to set his business up as a one-stop shop in Orchard,” Pat said. “He'd be better off being a decent bookstore and leaving the other businesses to us. He'll learn soon enough, one way or the other. Don't worry about it, Ruth. Especially tonight.” Pat gave me a wink, and I forced myself to smile back. A deep breath cleared my head. He was right, of course. Nothing I could do about this tonight.

“And you”—Pat turned toward his wife—“stop with the gossip. Moira talked to you about that. I know you're worried about the coffee business Beckett may take away from the Sleeping Latte. But we'll deal with that when the time comes.”

“Pat Reed, some day you'll need to take off those rose-colored glasses and see what's happening around here,” Nancy said, shaking her head.

“Trust me, I see what's happening. What's happening is that Beckett Green, and Kim Gray, are worrying my best girl too much. They aren't worth it, either of them.”

“I wonder if Kim Gray will come by tonight?” I asked.

“Did you invite her?” Nancy asked. “'Cause I didn't.”

“Of course I invited her,” I said. “She's the town manager. She has to want this to work, doesn't she? Besides, if we didn't invite her, she'd tell everyone. Since we did, if she doesn't show up, it makes her look bad.”

“Tonight is going to be terrific,” Pat said. “You know I had my doubts, but this crazy POL promotion may work. Everyone I've seen today is planning on coming by. Now, let's see some smiles from both of you. What say?”

Nancy faked a smile, then sighed and glanced down at her watch. “Yikes, look at the time. I'm going to go check in with Moira, and then I'm heading home to get changed.
You coming, Pat?” Nancy got up and squeezed my shoulder. I gave her a smile and stood up as well.

“Let me do a walk-through with Ruth, and then I'll meet you down at the Sleeping Latte. Fifteen minutes, tops.”

•   •   •

P
at and I walked Nancy to the front door. The windows on the front door were covered with old-fashioned blinds, the metal kind from the middle of the last century. When the shop was open, the blinds were raised, welcoming customers in and letting the rest of us look out at downtown Orchard. The Reeds stepped outside to the porch, which ran along the front of the shop, and exchanged a few words. I turned away, trying to give them some privacy. I looked around at the shop, from the point of view of a new customer. I smiled at the immediate impression of clocks, clocks, and more clocks. I needed to use the front entrance more often. I missed out on the “wow” when I used the back door.