“Looks like you’ve got a good crowd,” Trudy Devereaux observed as she sauntered in from the Curves and Curls Beauty Spa next door. Trudy was showing off her signature tan with a short white dress that left her shoulders and most of her back bare. Of course, her pink nails and platinum blond hair were perfect, as always.
“Yeah, they finally found me.” I watched one woman, badly sunburned, pick up one of my favorite pieces, a sugar bowl that looked like the Cape Hatteras lighthouse. She’d already picked it up once and put it down only to circle around and come back to it again.
“Lucky you! My place is completely empty. You’d think someone would want to have something done! It is the Fourth and everyone’s off of work. And I have that bikini wax special going on.”
The very idea made me wince. “Maybe it’ll get better later.”
“Maybe.” She didn’t sound too convinced. “But I think I might as well close up for the day and go to the beach like everyone else. A nice pitcher of margaritas sounds pretty good.”
“Yeah. That sounds good.” I was distracted, watching the woman with the sugar bowl start toward the cash register with the treasure. I wasn’t sure whether I was happy or not. It had been in Missing Pieces for a long time. I’d found it at a flea market one weekend when I was visiting Charleston. It had called to me just like the pink rhinestone heart pin.
“Are you worried about her shoplifting that thing?” Trudy asked, no doubt noticing my preoccupation with the shopper.
“No. Of course not.” I glanced away from the sugar bowl to Trudy’s unhappy face. “I was interested to see if she’d buy it.”
“You really love all this old junk. You’re one of the missing pieces. You hate to lose any of them, don’t you?”
“Don’t be silly.” The shopper caught my eye again as she picked up another treasure, a rosewood music box that had once belonged to Theodosia Burr, the daughter of the notorious Aaron Burr. This woman had an eye for the good stuff. “How would I make any money if I never sold anything?”
“Not being mayor of Duck, that’s for sure. What do they pay you? Your grandfather said it was like a thousand dollars a year.”
“Plus expenses,” I added. “Anyway, nobody is mayor of Duck because they want to get rich.”
“But in the meantime, you want to make sure all your precious junk goes to the right people, huh?”
“Something like that.” The shopper had snagged the music box too and was coming toward me down the center aisle with both items.
“I don’t know what you’re worried about, Dae. You know how this junk seems to find you. There’ll be plenty more where this came from.” Trudy sighed and glanced at her nails. “I’m gonna go close up. I’ll talk to you later when you can think about something besides your babies here in the shop. Bye.”
I was glad she left. It sounds crazy, but I like to make sure the really important merchandise goes to a good home. I have a knack for finding things, but that doesn’t mean I ignore them once I find them. My important treasures might not be treated right if that happened. I looked at it as part of the responsibility that went along with my gift. My mother taught me that when I was growing up.
My mother also used to say if there was a penny anywhere on the ground five miles around me, I’d find it. She was right. Not everything I found had great value. Sometimes a piece of junk was just a piece of junk.
“This is the most interesting piece.” The shopper carefully placed the lighthouse sugar bowl on the counter. “I’ve never seen anything like it. And this music box! You know, I swear I’ve seen it before. Where did you get it?”
I looked at her. Assessing her, I guess. Hoping she’d be the one to take good care of these important items. The treasures I sold mattered to me, and they all needed good homes. For most of them, there came a time when they had to leave me. That’s how we all survived.
I told her the story of how I came to have the sugar bowl and the music box. She listened in rapt attention until I’d finished. “I’m glad you like them. I think you’ll give them a good home.”
“Of course I will.” She smiled, her even white teeth too bright to be natural. “How much do I owe you?”
I quoted her an astounding price, probably an indecent price, but one I knew she’d pay. I could see it in her eyes. When she handed me her Visa card, she met my third qualification for ownership. I didn’t charge high prices for everything, but the really special stuff was too important to let go cheap.
“I hope you enjoy them as much as I have.” I carefully wrapped her pieces in white tissue paper. “I’ve had them for a while. I’m glad someone finally noticed them.”
Of course she gave me that you’re-a-crazy-person look, but that was okay. She’d passed my tests. I didn’t mind what she thought of me.
The other people in the shop bought trinkets, nothing of great value. Some of the things I collect for Missing Pieces are donations from people who want to get rid of stuff, like after the church rummage sale. I never develop feelings for those things, not like for the ones I find.
Once all the customers had left, I looked at the UPS packages I’d picked up outside. Adding the UPS franchise to Missing Pieces was a way to bring in some extra money. There weren’t a lot of shipments to and from Duck, but when they came through, they came here. I was proud of that.
I looked up from the boxes as I heard the shop door open. A scruffy young man with what my grandfather would call a roving eye walked in and asked about a job. I didn’t recognize him as being a regular shopper or a Duck resident, but there was something about him that intrigued me. I shrugged it off after he asked me if something was wrong and I realized I’d been staring at him for too long. I told him I was sorry but I didn’t have anything for him. He smirked and left the shop.
“It can’t get much hotter out there.” My grandfather came in right after him. “Who was that?”
“I don’t know. Just somebody looking for a job.”
He wiped the sweat from his forehead with a red rag before he replaced his straw hat on his thick white hair. “Lots of shoppers in Duck. Have you sold anything?”
“A few things.” I couldn’t keep it from him. “The lighthouse sugar bowl and the rosewood music box.”
“I hope you got what they’re worth.”
I quoted him the price, and he whistled through his teeth. “You knew I wouldn’t let them go for less.”
“I knew.” He hugged me as he reached the counter. “Ready for your close-up, Miss Mayor?”
“I suppose so.” I smoothed down my shorts and picked up the oversized mayor’s coat again. “I don’t think they had this in mind for a woman mayor. I think the town council might need to consider changing this tradition.”
He held one side of the coat for me. “You mean you should get special treatment because you’re a woman? I thought you hated that kind of thing.”
“No. I should get a smaller coat because this one could fit Councilman Wilson, all six foot four, three hundred pounds of him. It’s a little big on me by almost a foot and two hundred pounds.”
“Come on now! The council had it tailored for you. It’s not that big.”
I wrapped the coat around me, flipped up the red ribbons and gold coins, then faced him. The sleeves were past my wrists, and my torso was swallowed by the coat. “I think they thought the first mayor would be a man, Gramps.”
He laughed. “Maybe you do need something a little different, Dae. But not right now. You’ll have to wow them with your personality.”