A Deal to Die For (2 page)

“You did it!” she cried. “You bought My Sister’s Closet, and now you can make it into
anything you want.”

Again, Maggie felt this was unwarranted optimism. Her legs gave out, and she slipped
her fingers out of Ginger’s
and slumped onto one of the vintage velvet chairs left behind by the previous owner,
lowering her head between her
knees.

“I can’t do this,” she said. “I don’t know anything about owning my own shop. I must
have been having a midlife crisis when I thought I could do this. Why couldn’t I just
buy a sports car and take up with a man half my age? Or get a boob job and take a
cruise around the world? That would be normal. This—this is crazy!”

“Of course, you can—” Joanne began, but Maggie cut her off.

“No, I can’t!” Her voice was reaching the high-pitched decibel of hysteria, but Maggie
couldn’t seem to stop herself. “The only things I know how to do are shop sales, take
care of Dr. Franklin’s bookkeeping and raise my daughter, Laura.”

The papers she still clutched were becoming soggy in her panic-slicked hands, and
the skin on her forearms and neck itched as if a severe rash was coming on.

“She doesn’t look so good,” Claire said to the others. “I’m afraid we have a full-on
panic attack fast approaching.”

“Find a paper bag for her to breathe into and a cool cloth for the back of her neck,”
Ginger ordered as she knelt beside Maggie.

Joanne and Claire dashed around the half-empty store while Ginger stayed with Maggie.
She rubbed Maggie’s back as if she were soothing one of her boys after a nightmare.

“Now, you listen to me,” Ginger said. She was using her stern no-nonsense voice. “Laura
is at Penn State, and she’s doing fine. Dr. Franklin is semiretired now and doesn’t
need you as much. When he retires completely, he won’t need you at all. It is time
for you to find your own niche, and this shop is it.”

“But what if I fail?” Maggie moaned.

“Oh, honey, you won’t. You and I grew up on Hardy Street together, remember?”

Maggie snorted. She did remember. She and Ginger had both come from large families
where thriftiness was considered a way of life. It had given them a bond as young
girls that they had maintained when they’d both stayed in St. Stanley to raise their
own families.

“Now, hear me,” Ginger said. “You are the type of gal who can squeeze a copper penny
into wire if need be. If anyone is destined to make a successful business out of resale,
it is you, and I’m saying that not just as your friend but also as your accountant.”

Ginger gently pulled Maggie’s shoulder-length auburn hair away from her face so that
her velvet brown eyes could meet Maggie’s green ones. Maggie sucked in a steadying
breath and hugged her friend tightly. Leave it to Ginger to talk her down from the
ledge yet again.

“Thanks,” she said. “You’re the best.”

Joanne and Claire came back into the room with a paper bag and a wet cloth. Maggie
took the cloth and put it on the back of her neck to stave off any more panic, but
she waved away the paper bag, hoping she wouldn’t need it.

“Better?” Claire asked.

“I think so,” Maggie said. She forced her lips into a smile, and the others seemed
reassured.

“The first thing this place needs is a new coat of paint,” Joanne said. “Honestly,
what were they thinking with the pea green walls?”

“Great, more money down the drain,” Maggie muttered. “Next it will be the plumbing,
or I’ll have to get new windows, or maybe there will an electrical fire.”

Ginger grabbed the paper bag from Joanne and snapped it open. She held it out to Maggie,
and said, “Breathe.”

Maggie took it and clamped it over her mouth.

“Paint is cheap,” Joanne said. “When Michael and I bought our deli, More than Meats,
it needed painting in the worst way, so we checked out the Oops paint pile at the
Home Depot over in Rosemont and got the perfect colors for a quarter of the price.”

“I love the Oops pile,” Claire said. “The lavender in my bedroom came from there.”

Maggie lowered the bag. “Oh, I like that color,” she said.

She glanced at the walls and pictured them in shades of dove gray and pale blue. She
wanted the shop to have a classic-looking interior, not something that would get dated
too fast. Her heart gave a little skip, but she realized that this time it was enthusiasm
and not anxiety giving her palpitations.

Her happy little bubble of hope abruptly popped when the front door was yanked open
and in strode Summer Phillips. Summer had been a thorn in Maggie’s backside from the
day they’d met in kindergarten.

After thirty-six years, Maggie would have thought their enmity might have diminished,
but no. So fresh was Summer’s hostility that it seemed like just yesterday that Maggie
had been playing in the kindergarten’s toy kitchen with Ginger when Summer demanded
that Maggie let her have a turn. Maggie had refused because her pretend cake wasn’t
done baking, and Summer had responded by shoving Maggie headfirst into the toy oven.

Maggie’s head had been wedged so tightly that their teacher, Mrs. Grady, had no choice
but to use Crisco to get it out. Naturally, everyone in class called her “greasy locks”
for weeks afterwards. A nickname coined by Summer, of course. Maggie had hated Summer
from that day forward, and the feeling was mutual.

“Is it true?” Summer asked.

She stood in her purple platform pumps with one red talon-fingered hand on her hip
as she tossed back her long blonde extensions and took in the half-empty shop at a
glance. “You actually bought this dump?”

Maggie opened her mouth to speak, but Ginger stepped in front of her and asked, “Was
there something you needed, Summer? Because I do believe the sign on the door reads,
Closed, or can you still not read?”

“Funny,” Summer said without humor. “But, yeah, there is something I need.”

“This should be good,” Joanne said to Claire, obviously not caring if Summer heard
her or not.

She trotted over to the window and gestured for them to follow her. “See that?”

Reluctantly, Maggie put one foot in front of the other. Whatever Summer was going
to show her was not going to make her happy. She knew that just like she knew Summer’s
double Ds were big fakeys.

“That”—Summer paused to tap on the picture window with a spiky nail—“is now mine.”

Maggie looked out across the town green toward what used to be an appliance store.
She had known the store was closing and was sad about it. She had always gotten her
kitchen gadgets there and even though she knew that the owners were retiring and selling
the store, she hadn’t quite accepted it. She certainly had not known that Summer had
bought it.

“That is my new resale store, Second Time Around,” Summer announced. Her eyes sparkled
with malicious glee. “Now
I don’t want
my
customers to be offended by looking across at this eyesore. So, clean it up, or better
yet, why don’t you sell it before you lose your shirt? Ha! Get it? Lose your shirt?”

As if sensing the urge to slap Summer was going to be more than Maggie could bear,
both Ginger and Joanne moved in close and penned her in on each side, while Claire
hustled forth and grabbed Summer’s elbow and pulled her toward the door.

“Look at the time,” Claire said, not even bothering to consult her watch. “I have
to get back to the library. Walk with me, Summer? Gee, that’d be great.”

Claire dragged Summer out the door without waiting for her answer. As soon as the
door shut, Ginger and Joanne stepped away, as if expecting Maggie to go volcanic on
them.

She couldn’t blame them. Her relationship with Summer did not bring out her best side.
She took a steadying breath.

She refused to give in to the temptation, no matter how mighty, to punch, kick or
shred something in the aftermath of Summer’s bomb-dropping. Summer had done more than
enough damage for one day.

Maggie let out a long breath and turned to Ginger and Joanne. They were both watching
her with wide-eyed stares. She curved her lips into what she hoped was a serene smile.

“What did we have planned for our next bargain-hunting venture?” she asked.

“The annual St. Stanley flea market,” Joanne said with a small squeak. “It’s always
the second weekend in November. I heard there were going to be some excellent deals
there this year.”

“I heard Vera Madison is going to have a booth,” Ginger said. “You know, as the wealthiest
woman in St. Stanley, she has a wardrobe to die for.”

“All that vintage clothing,” Joanne said with a sigh. “Between the four of us, we
could stock this shop with some truly spectacular finds.”

“And just think of the window displays you could set up with some of her classic Lilli
Ann and Christian Dior clothes from the sixties.”

“I heard she had a bedroom converted into a walk-in closet and everything is separated
by color,” Ginger said. “I also heard that she owns over three hundred pairs of shoes.”

“That’s just insane,” Joanne said. “How could a person own that many shoes? When are
you supposed to wear them all?”

Maggie gave them a small smile. “Well, we’ll be happy to relieve her of that burden,
won’t we?”

Joanne and Ginger gave her encouraging nods.

“And you’re right. Vera’s collection will go fabulously in this shop,” Maggie said.
“We’ll just see whose head gets stuck in the toy oven this time.”

Joanne looked perplexed, but Ginger busted out with a laugh and said, “Game on.”

It was a perfect autumn day for a flea market on the town green. The sky was a pristine
blue that made Maggie want to reach up with a spoon and see if it tasted as lovely
as it looked. The sun was warm and the air was as crisp as an autumn apple.

She inhaled the fresh, clean scent of the breeze as she hurried down the sidewalk
to meet the Good Buy Girls at the Daily Grind, the new coffee shop in town. Pete Daniels
had bought the place, formerly known as the Perk Up, a few months before and had made
some stellar improvements, like cutting the prices in half, which suited Maggie’s
thrifty soul just fine.

She liked that it was situated within easy walking distance of her own shop. This
would be very handy when she needed a caffeine jolt in the middle of the day. And
it didn’t hurt that Pete was easy on the eyes, very charming and always had a joke
at the ready.

“Mornin’, Maggie,” Pete called as she sat down with Ginger, Joanne and Claire at a
small, round table outside.

“Hi, Pete,” she said. “How are you today?”

“Never better,” he said. He smiled at her, and his grin was so genuine that Maggie
couldn’t help but smile back. She liked his warm, brown eyes and the gray that was
just beginning to appear at his temples.

“Hey, did I tell you ladies the one about the man who came in and asked how much for
a cup of coffee?”

“No,” Ginger answered for all of them.

“Well, he asked how much for a cup of coffee, and I told him a buck eighty. Then he
asked if refills were free, and I said sure. So, he ordered a refill.”

Maggie and Ginger rolled their eyes and smiled, Joanne giggled, but Claire busted
out with a snort of laughter that made Pete chuckle in return.

He turned back to Maggie and asked, “The usual?”

“How do you know what my usual is?” she asked. “I haven’t come here that often.”

“You come in here twice a week, three times if I’m lucky,” he said with a wink. “And
you always order a regular coffee with two sugars and a healthy splash of cream.”

“Impressive,” Maggie said.

“Not really,” he said. “Your order is straightforward. You should hear some of the
others.” He put on a falsetto voice, and said, “I’d like a large half-decaf, half-regular
coffee with vanilla soy milk and two sugars, but I want the soy milk on the side,
and you need to stir in the sugar in a clockwise direction thirty times.”

Pete crossed his eyes and shook his head, and they all laughed, Claire being the loudest.

“I’ll be right back,” Pete said. “Is everyone else all set?”

The others nodded, and he smiled at Maggie before he headed back inside to get her
coffee.

Ginger leaned forward and whispered to Maggie, “I think someone likes you.”

Maggie felt her face grow hot. “No, that’s just Pete’s way. He’s a flirt. It’s undoubtedly
good for business.”

“I don’t know,” Joanne said. “He didn’t wink at anyone but you.”

Maggie glanced into the coffee shop, where she saw Pete chatting up some of his other
customers. She shook her head. No, she didn’t get that feeling from him. She did think
she could learn a thing or two from him, however.

She’d have to talk to him about how to market a small business. Given the coffee shop’s
surge in popularity since he’d taken it over, he certainly knew a few things about
being successful.

“Enough about that,” she said. “We need to focus. Do we know for a fact that Vera
is selling at the flea market today?”

“Our target has been sighted,” Joanne confirmed. “She and her daughter, Bianca, are
in a booth on the south end of the green.”