“He’s rotten.” Xander punched the creature’s painted face. It crumbled like a B movie mummy.
He pointed. “There, and there, and there. Soft spots from a leaking roof Gus should’ve fixed years ago. And what did he do? Covered them up with effin’ cartoons!” He slumped as if exhausted. “Leaky plumbing, peeling linoleum, slanted floors, cracks in the walls. This building needs a helluva lot more than a fresh coat of paint. I’m surprised it hasn’t been condemned. I oughta just hire a wrecking crew to pull it down.”
Hannah shot to her feet. “You can’t do that!”
Xander poked a dusty taxidermized creature mounted up high—a badger? A beaver? “You’re right. Gus’s will says I have to keep the shop running. Otherwise, it’ll be sold to benefit the… Damn, what’s it called?” He pulled out his phone and tapped the screen. “NASDEV. The North American Society to Document Extra-terrestrial Visitations.”
Hannah’s heart rose in her throat. “Sold to whom?”
“Does it matter?” He clambered back to earth.
“Yes, it damn well does matter.” Her voice rose to a shrill squeak. “Greedy developers, always sniffing around for their chance to erase Trappers Cove and remake our town into another Carroll Beach, all slick and bougie. You know the type—every shop has the same façade, selling expensive, pretentious crap. Before you know it, property values go up, and one by one, people who built lives here are forced to leave.”
Remembered trauma heated her cheeks and tightened her chest—the unholy growl of the bulldozer pushing pushing pushing the walls of her childhood home until they splintered and crumpled. Even now, twenty-five years later, seeing the ugly, poorly maintained condos that took its place turned her stomach.
Xander clasped her shoulders, and that firm, grounding touch brought air racing back into her lungs. “Easy, avenging angel. I have no intention of letting this property go to a developer and a bunch of UFO nuts.” He leaned in closer and peered into her face. “You okay?”
She sucked in another bracing breath. “Of course. I’m perfectly fine.”
With a bemused smile, Xander shook his head. “Whatever you say.”
Chapter Five
“Mama,no.That’snotwhat Gus wanted. He spelled it out in his will.”
Leave it to his mother’s impeccable timing—her irate call landed during his coffee break in Sweet Dreams Bakery, currently packed with customers munching Garrett Becker’s excellent pastries.
At the sound of Xander’s raised voice, a trio of older women seated nearby swiveled and gawked.
Xander lowered his volume and hunched over his apple crumble cake. Should’ve known better than to pick up in a public place, but preparing for tomorrow’s clearance sale left him so damn tired. The high-school kids Hannah had procured were a help, but at the drop of a google-eyed alien ball cap they’d break into giggles and start playing with the merchandise.
And now Mama was chewing him a new one over Gus’s memorial service. “Your father is disgusted,” she hissed into the phone. “All the Anagnoses are buried in Lake View Cemetery. We can’t ignore four generations of family tradition because a wacko second son wants to be buried in his junk shop.”
His jaw tightened. “It’s a souvenir shop. And Gus loved the place.”
“It’s weird and dirty. What will people think?”
Blame a week of shoveling through plastic aliens, or perhaps it was space rays from the cosmic transmitter, but his filter was slipping. “Ma, Gus is dead. Let him rest in peace where he wants to.”
She sniffed, no doubt offended down to her toenails. “Funerals are for the living.”
“Listen,” he snapped, “Gus was a good man, and people here loved him. I’m going to respect his wishes because it’s the right thing to do. I hope you’ll come, but that’s your choice.”
Really, he almost wished the Anagnos clan would stay home and hold whatever traditional service made them feel better about neglecting a relative. He and Trappers Cove would give Gus the send-off he wanted. If not exactly dignified, it would at least be heartfelt. Zora, the old hippie gal who ran the crystal shop, had pretty much taken charge, freeing Xander to handle his clearance sale without simultaneously planning a funeral. He probably owed Hannah a debt of thanks for that too.
At Zora’s insistence, the service would be held inside Souvenir Planet, the place Gus loved most, even if it was drafty, damp, and badly in need of repairs. And why not?
Yeah, Trappers Cove was definitely getting to him.
Wiping his hands on his baker’s apron, Garrett strolled over and dropped a copy of theTrappers CoveBeaconon the table. “Great article on Gus’s shop.”
Xander’s stomach tightened as he skimmed Hannah’s full-page story on the history of Souvenir Planet, from its early days fifty years ago, when a very young Gus and his pretty bride sold seashells and beach toys, to its present decrepit incarnation—though Hannah made it sound much nicer.
Garrett read aloud over his shoulder. “A fun, fascinating emporium-slash-museum offering everything from saltwater taffy to a mummified alien mermaid. And for lovers of all things extra-terrestrial, Souvenir Planet stocks out-of-this-world souvenirs from bobbleheads to star maps, plus the chance to send your very own intergalactic message into the void.”
A series of photos showed a progressively older Gus in all kinds of weird space-man get-ups. Xander sent up a silent prayer of thanks that his uncle had elected to be cremated. If he’d opted for an open casket, God only knows what space suit he’d want for his final earthly appearance.
“Lots of nice quotes about Gus.” Garrett tapped the article.
