I slowly turned my head to look at her but couldn't think of a single thing to say. I would probably get around to wondering what she meant about Bill and his grandson at some point, but I was still in shock at the state of my business.
Where there had been orderly rows and aisles, there were clusters and clumps of products I certainly had not written pawns on or purchased. Some, luckily, were things I would havebought myself. The taxidermied ferrets were adorable, and for some bizarre reason, we did a brisk business in taxidermied animals. Eleanor had even set up a display of several of the little animals having a picnic on a blanket, with a few of them holding sparklers in their hands.
"You made a Fourth of July display," I said faintly. "It's?—"
"I know. It's a lot. I was trying to be creative, and honestly, I was working out a lot of stress. Do you hate it? You hate it. I can take it down."
I laughed and hugged her, because she was someone I could hug without seeing her death. "No, I don't hate it. I think it's brilliant. Our customers will, too."
Relief swept over her face. "Oh, that's great to hear! And welcome home. How was the honeymoon?"
"It was wonderful. I imagine it's pretty hard to have a bad time in Atlantis," I said, smiling at her but still looking at the rest of the shop in muted disbelief.
We now had a corner filled with nothing but Halloween items. Granted, I took a lot of unusual supernatural items in on pawn and to sell, but I'd never thought to have a dedicated space for them before. Especially in July.
It actually looked pretty great, though.
"I really like what you did with the Halloween corner."
Eleanor, relaxing more and more, walked me through the shop and gave me a brief rundown on the purchases she'd made and the pawns she'd written up. They were all sound business decisions, and she'd probably made more profit for the store than I would have, because she was a tougher bargainer. The customers loved her though, and she never took advantage of that any more than I would.
"OK, let's have coffee and thank-you donuts, and you can tell me everything," I said. "Also, you're getting a big bonus for this. I appreciate so much that you worked so hard while I was gone.You certainly didn't need to open the shop all those days, but I'm grateful for every minute. I just hope Bill isn't mad at me for stealing you away from your own newly married bliss."
The business had done well enough lately that I could afford to give her the bonus she deserved. That hadn't always been the case. But ever since I had inherited the shop, I'd done my best to modernize it and make it profitable. I had loved Jeremiah, Jack's uncle, like family, but he hadn't been the most business-minded person. He'd been far more interested in his unusual collectibles.
"So, what's the problem with Bill and his grandson?"
She sighed. And then she took a second donut, which meant it was serious. "The problem is that Bill spoils that kid rotten. Oscar, bless his heart, is a total monster."
("Bless his heart," for the non-Southerner's edification, rarely actually means "bless his heart." It's more like a barely veiled insult clothed in false kindness. Example: "She actually thinks she looks good in that dress, bless her heart.")
"How old is he? Do he and Zane get along?" Her grandson Zane was my sister’s best friend.
"No, he's a couple of years older than Zane, and thinks he's too important to hang out with a ten-year-old."
I almost laughed, because the problem of an obnoxious twelve-year-old boy seemed so minor compared to what we'd been through in the past year and a half. But Eleanor really looked tired and stressed, so I tried to think of something helpful.
"Why don't you and Bill bring Oscar and Zane over for a barbecue this evening? I'll pick up Shelley, and we can throw the kids in the pool and let them burn off some energy."
"You don't have to do that! You and Jack just came home from your honeymoon, so you should have some time together."
"Right," I said dryly. "Like my family is going to let me get away with that. Aunt Ruby and Uncle Mike will be over like a shot when they hear we're back in town."
Eleanor raised her eyebrows. "You think they didn't know you were back in Dead End the minute you got here? You sadly underestimate your aunt—themayor—and her spy network."
The chimes over the front door sounded, and I winced. "I forgot to lock the door when I came in. I was too distracted by the picnicking ferrets."
"Are you opening today? I thought we were going to be closed on Mondays."
"We will be. But since I'm here now, I may as well putter around and catch up on things. I've ordered a sign for the door with our new hours, but I still need to call the tour bus company and see if they can switch days with us."
The Golden Years Swamp Tours (GYST) bus stopped once a week on its way to take the nation’s grandparents on escape-the-rollercoasters-of-Orlando expeditions. The day trips were very popular, and we had a deal with the owner to bring the passengers to Dead End Pawn to buy everything they never needed. I definitely didn't want to give up that business.
We walked into the shop to see that we had a customer. He looked vaguely familiar, but I was pretty sure I didn't know him. That wasn't all that uncommon in Dead End, where folks had a lot of out-of-town relatives who came to visit.
Like my grandmother the banshee, for example. I spared a thought to remind myself to call her, since I hadn’t heard from her for a while. Leona Carstairs, my elegant grandmother I’d only recently met, was very busy as president of the North American organization for Banshee Rights. Its acronym was NABR, which made me grin, because few people throughout history would have wanted a banshee for a neighbor.
Anyway, back to business.
