Forget Me Not. Marion Ekholm
waited by a tall golden dresser, something with a Chinese influence and definitely pricey. The other items arranged around the room had a classiness beyond her grandmother’s dusty collection. She turned when a thin man with gray hair and a matching goatee approached. “How may I help you?” Definitely a different voice from the one that had invited her in.
“Henry?”
“One of them. I’m Stanley Henry.” He turned and motioned to the younger man with similar features coming from the back. “This is my nephew Dave. And you are...?”
“Trish Lowery.” She expected some recognition of her last name. After all, her family had lived in the town for nearly one hundred years. Nothing.
“Were you looking for something specific?” Stanley asked.
“No. I’m interested in selling some of my grandmother’s antiques. I have pictures, if you’d like to see them.”
Dave Henry, who had a pleasant smile and blond hair, came over. “Lowery, you say. As in Helen Lowery?”
Stanley looked at his nephew with a quizzical expression. “Of course, Helen Lowery, from one of the founding families, the lady who recently died?” He turned back to Trish and approached, his hand extended. “Our condolences. And you have something to show us?”
With his demeanor becoming more gracious, Stanley gripped her hand. Trish suddenly felt like a field mouse trapped by a marauding hawk. She pulled free. “Um, I have a question. Do you purchase antiques outright to sell in your store?”
Stanley sighed. “Unfortunately, we can’t. Not enough space.” He smiled, helping to displace the hawk image. “Most of the items here,” he said, waving his hand around the shop, “are on consignment. I run another store in Manhattan, and we also advertise on the internet. I’m sure we can give your grandmother’s items a proper showplace and get you the best possible price.”
Trish held out her cell phone, displaying the picture of her grandmother’s bedroom furniture. Stanley took her phone as Dave came over to join his uncle. “We really need to see your treasures in person. May we make an appointment?”
Trish pulled her phone back. “Of course.”
“Okay if I handle this?” Dave asked. He nodded toward his uncle before turning back to Trish. “When are you available?”
Trish appreciated Dave taking over the conversation. “Anytime today. The sooner the better. I have a limited time here, and I need this resolved before I leave.”
“Would this afternoon be appropriate? At two? I know the address.” He turned to his uncle. “If you wouldn’t mind watching the store for me?”
With a nod, Trish thanked them and headed for the door, followed closely by Dave. After opening the door for her, he said, “I’m sure your grandmother has lovely items, and we’ll be able to work out some satisfactory plans for them.” He offered his hand. “Very nice meeting you, Ms. Lowery.”
Just as she exited, a noisy blast echoed through the town—one, two, three times—and Trish stumbled. Dave grabbed her arm and steadied her.
“That darn fire horn.” He glanced down the street. “Better watch it. Any moment, we’ll have volunteers speeding toward the firehouse.” He pointed to the brick building across the street and pulled her away from the sidewalk’s edge. “Here they come now.”
Trish stood there watching as one vehicle after another came down the road with lights flashing and pulled into the firehouse’s parking lot. Was that Moody’s truck? The front was filled with several men...men who’d been on her roof. How could they appear so quickly? The horn had just sounded.
“I’ve got to go,” she said, slipping away from Dave’s grasp. She headed down the street at a near run.
When she reached her house, she saw Craig taking down the ladder. “What happened?” How would anything get finished if they took off anytime the fire horn blew?
“Most of my crew are volunteers.” He placed the ladder on the ground and headed for his van. “Including me.” Trish followed him to the driver’s side. Was he about to take off, too? She grabbed the sleeve of the OSHA green shirt he had pulled over his sweater.
“When will you be back?”
Craig got into the cab, holding on to the door. He leaned over toward her. “When the fire’s out.” She stepped away as he slammed the door and backed out of the driveway, his headlights flashing.
“You okay?”
Trish turned to see Dave Henry standing there on the sidewalk. “Did you think your house was on fire?” he asked as he approached. “You took off looking very upset.”
“I saw Moody’s truck with all the men who had been on my roof. They didn’t finish.”
“They’ll be back.” He glanced at the house and rubbed his arms. “I didn’t take a jacket. Didn’t realize how cold it had gotten.”
Small towns. She had forgotten how familiar people were with each other, how concerned they were for each other’s welfare. She needed to remember that. “Would you care to come in, Mr. Henry? I can offer you some coffee.”
“That sounds wonderful, and please call me Dave. Whenever anyone calls me Mr. Henry, I’m expecting to see my uncle behind me.” He followed her into the house, pausing several times to look around the vestibule before they reached the kitchen.
“Sorry, the heat isn’t up to par. I plan to have Craig look into it when he gets back.” She handed him a cup of coffee from the electric percolator she had left on. She pushed over the cream and sugar. “This should help to warm you.”
Dave stopped rubbing his hands together and reached for the mug without adding any condiments. He held it several moments before taking a sip. “Oh, this hits the spot. So, are you planning to live here? It’s a beautiful house.”
“No. My fiancé and I want to sell it. In the meantime, Craig is fixing whatever needs repairs.”
“Craig Cadman, the handyman who drove off to the fire?” Dave waved a hand in the direction Craig had taken. “I know him. Does fantastic work, and his mother has refinished several antique dressers for us. You’re not the girl he’s been dating, are you? I’d heard he was dating, but I didn’t hear that he’d gotten engaged.”
Trish couldn’t help but chuckle. “No. We’re old friends, but he’s dating someone else.” She held the mug to her lips and looked over the rim at Dave. His blond hair was a little mussed, probably windblown from following her. Otherwise he was as neat as his uncle, although not as intimidating.
“Would you care to look at the antiques while you’re here?” She put her mug down. It would be wonderful to get this chore taken care of so she’d know what other items could be donated to the church.
Dave nodded. “That would be great.” He walked to her counter. “I’ve been checking out these dishes.” After picking one up and looking at the back, he turned to her with an expectant smile. “Any chance you want to get rid of these?”
Trish joined him. “It’s a complete set, with several of the larger pieces in the china cabinet.” Her finger traced the delicate cream-and-gold edge with its tiny pink and yellow roses and some miniature blue flower that looked like a forget-me-not. It had always been her favorite. When she and Harrison had looked at china, though, they’d gone for a more modern geometric pattern. No sense in having two full sets of dishes. “Sure. I’m interested in selling it.”
“Okay if I run back and get a few things? I’ll need to take my own pictures, and frankly, this place isn’t much warmer than the outside. The only thing you’re missing is the arctic breeze.” He gave her a heartfelt smile while he continued to rub his hands.
“Why don’t I drive you?” Since all the work vehicles had gone, she could easily get