At the shop, Alyx and Maggie were busy rearranging a few items on the floor, and Maggie was trying to keep things positive as they pushed and shoved furniture around. When Alyx complained about the work, Maggie said moving furniture was not her favorite thing to do either, yet undoubtedly it was worth the effort if the item sold. Nevertheless, they were delighted to see Mary Zenn walk in, a big smile on her face.
“You look like you won the lottery. What’s up?”
“It’s even better than winning the lottery,” answered Mary, plopping down on the couch they’d just pushed to a new location, the grin she walked in with not leaving her face.
“Maggie, let’s finish this later.”
“No problem; I’ll take good news over moving furniture any day.”
“Okay, are you ready for this?” asked Mary.
“Yes,” they answered in unison.
“Do you remember the paintings you sold to the man from Palm Beach?”
“Yes, Maggie said he asked for your card. Does he want to buy more of your work?” asked Alyx.
“Oh, it’s much better than that. John Rictus is the owner of the Rictus Art Gallery and he wants my artwork to be part of his next exhibition!”
“Mary, that’s wonderful!”
Alyx hugged her. Maggie congratulated her and waited to hear more.
“The show is in three months, and he wants me to do as many new paintings as I can until then. Apparently, they get more artsy tourists than we get here in Beachside,” she said glancing at the unsold paintings on the wall.
“I’ll send invitations, and I hope you both can come.”
Mary cleared her throat, “Do you think you guys can help me with my hair and clothes on the night of my show?”
“Sure, we can. Maggie is the fashion plate around here. I’ll be glad to go with you to my stylist Enzo; he’s great at makeovers. He’ll give you what you want done in his special way,” she laughed. “I’ll make an appointment for the week before, so you have time to adjust to your cut.”
The look on Mary’s face said she’d assumed too much. “You don’t want your hair cut, do you?”
Mary hung her head a little, “I thought just taming it a little would help. I’m an artist. Artists are supposed to look weird.” As she said that, her head came up, “Thanks, Alyx, I think I’ll go as myself,” and then she added, “Maybe you and Maggie can help me look like me, only better.”
Maggie and Alyx exchanged looks, and Maggie nodded. “Speaking for Maggie and me, it’s a deal,” said Alyx.
“A cat can maintain a position of curled up somnolence on your knee until you are nearly upright. To the last minute she hopes your conscience will get the better of you and you will settle down again.”
––Pam Brown
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: David Hunter’s Competition
Jonathan Steele walked in, coincidently dressed like Alyx. His khakis and tee shirt matched Alyx’s outfit, except her khakis were cropped, and her shirt was tucked in. Misty ran towards him to sniff his shoes, his pants and then his hands as the man reached down to stroke her head.
“Welcome to my fine establishment,” Alyx said, smiling and swinging her arm wide.
“Very nice,” he nodded appreciatively.
“Feel free to browse, if you want.”
“Today is not a good day to look around as I only have an hour for lunch. I think I mentioned that I don’t have any help at the store, so I can’t leave whenever I want. I do close for an hour everyday at this time; I’ll definitely look around next time though. I know it’s too late for lunch, but how about a cup of coffee next door. I hear their homemade muffins are the best in town,” said Jonathan. “I’m interested in hearing what you have to say about the next Association meeting.”
Alyx didn’t hesitate to accept the invitation for coffee. She reached for a copy of the meeting agenda from the stack on the counter and handed it to him. He folded it and put it in his pocket.
“I’ll be ready to go in a minute, I have to tell Nelda I’m leaving and put Murfy on a leash.”
They walked out smiling with me bouncing along beside them. Alyx was explaining about my protectiveness, and I don’t think she saw David Hunter get out of his car across the street––but he saw her. He stood there for a moment, and then got back in the car and drove off.
“I’m glad you could get away. Do you always have two people in the store?” asked Steele.
“As often as we can manage it without making it a hardship for anyone. Our design business keeps Maggie and me out of the store more than we like. We have two wonderful, trustworthy employees and we’re possibly looking to hire a third to help with the decorating part. Maggie and I both miss the hunt for antiques and collectibles and we want to do more of that.”
“That’s the same with me, except I search for items that will someday become an antique or collectible. I still intend to travel; I’m limiting my trips to faraway places in this country for the time being though.”
“Given the state of the world these days, I’d say that’s a wise decision on your part.”
They talked about the business climate on Ocean Street, but most of the conversation was about his travels. Alyx asked him about the Taj Mahal.
“Stop me if I start to sound like a tour guide.”
Alyx laughed; she was doing a lot of that.
”As you know, the Taj Mahal is a mausoleum.”
She said she didn’t, and he continued. “The Mughal emperor Shah Jahan had it built in memory of his wife, who died giving birth to their fourteenth child. It took twenty thousand men and seventeen years to build it. The main building material is white marble inlaid with red sandstone, jasper, jade, crystal, turquoise, sapphires, and diamonds. In all, twenty-eight kinds of rare, semi-precious and precious stones were used.”
“Do they allow people to tour the inside?”
“Yes, they do. There’s a central chamber, a crypt immediately below and four octagonal corner rooms originally intended to house the graves of other royal family members. In the center are the cenotaphs of Shah Jahan and his wife, Mumtaz Mahal. According to custom, she rests immediately below the dome and he is to the left and a little higher. Above the tombs is a Cairene lamp, which is not supposed to burn out. Both tombs are exquisitely inlaid with semiprecious stones, and surrounded by a marble screen of trellis work.”
He leaned back in his seat, “I hope I haven’t told you more than what you wanted to hear,” he said apologetically as one who loves his subject matter, not sure when to stop.
“No, not at all. I’ve never known anyone who’s actually seen it. Is it true that the emperor planned on building a black marble Taj for himself?”
He shrugged, “It’s often mentioned in historical guidebooks, but many scholars believe it’s a myth. What do you think?”
“I think that he built the mausoleum in memory of his beloved wife and is happy to be buried with her.”
“I agree.”
Maggie was standing behind the cash register grinning at Alyx like the proverbial Cheshire cat when we returned. “Nelda said you were having coffee with a very good-looking man who wasn’t David,” she said.
Two creases formed between her eyes at the mention of David’s name, and then disappeared as she told Maggie about Jonathan Steele.
“He’s so interesting… and the more he talked, the more I liked him. I started noticing little things about him, like the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. I noticed he used his hands a lot––strong, with well-manicured fingernails. I had to fight the urge to touch the dimple on his chin to the point that I had to fold my hands on my lap for fear of actually doing it.”