Guerin hesitated, doubtfully following the boy’s glance. The shorter boy tried to pull his partner away. “I told you this ain’t no place for a basketball.”
The tall one restrained him, and looked impatiently at Guerin. “Well, you got a basketball?”
“I don’t think so,” Guerin said, stepping back. “But you’re welcome to look.”
The tall boy nodded and started inside, pulling his reluctant partner along toward the stacks. Guerin rubbed his face and stared out into the brilliant morning. He was about to step out for a breath of air when he heard the unmistakable thump, thump, thump of a ball being dribbled along the wooden floor behind him.
They had found the ball atop a wooden chest, they said, and professed no knowledge of a big man named Squires who wore white shoes and rode in a limousine: “A limo in this neighborhood, man?”
Though they offered fifty cents, Guerin would take only a quarter. He watched the two leave, passing the battered basketball back and forth on the pavement, then turned back into the shop.
As he entered, he heard once more the unmistakable sounds of crashing surf. He hesitated, then drew his robe tightly around him and moved steadfastly into the shadows.
When he reached the wooden chest where Adele’s dress had been, he froze. On the floor nearby lay a child’s beach pail and shovel, and next to those, a battered beach chair with sailcloth seat and wooden frame. The sounds of the surf had died away. Uncertain, he extended his hand toward the chest. The lid was locked, or swelled shut, and the sequined dress was nowhere in sight. He grasped one of the heavy brass handles on the chest, to pull it toward the front, but the thing would not budge. He straightened and looked warily about the darkened aisles. “Mr. Jack...?” he called, but there was no answer. And then the doorbell began to ring in earnest.
It was nearly closing time when Adele did show up, her nephew Myron in tow. The pair had to stand aside at the doorway to let a stream of customers past. One man carried a huge moose head over his shoulder, followed by a couple toting an intricately molded brass bed. Next came a cigar-chewing man carrying a barber’s pole, then a stylishly dressed couple pushing a jukebox out atop a dolly. The man winked at Adele, patting the jukebox with one hand: “Everything Ella ever did is right in here.”
Guerin waved at Adele and Myron from his place in the canvas beach chair. He’d found an old-fashioned, knee-length bathing suit with a striped top and was basking in the glow of a battered sun lamp.
“I thought you said the place was belly up,” Myron said.
Adele bit her lip and turned upon Guerin. “So this is how you wait on customers?”
Guerin rose amiably from his chair and snapped off the light. “I had an inspiration.” He gestured at his trunks. “Goes with the name of the shop, don’t you think?”
Myron nodded. “Business is looking up, I take it.”
“Plenty of traffic. But I don’t drive a very hard bargain, I’m afraid.” Guerin swept his arm toward the dark aisles. “Have a look around. Maybe there’s something you need.”
Adele stepped impatiently between them. “Myron has come here to help you. He can get your money back.”
Guerin looked at her in disbelief.
Myron cleared his throat. “I put together a group looking for a public housing site; now I find out this whole block’s available. You sign over your lease, I’ll get you three thousand up front. Once the buildings go up, you get an override. In the long run you could clear some real coin.”
“Clear some coin?” Guerin repeated. He gave Adele an exasperated look, then turned back to Myron. “I’m sorry you went to this trouble, Mr...”
“Myron’s fine.”
Guerin nodded. “Well, Myron, do I look to you like a man concerned with the long run?”
Myron smiled tolerantly. “I heard you were tough. Tell you what. Being as you are a friend of the family, so to speak, I think we could go five thousand up front.”
Guerin felt very tired. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to sell.”
Myron shot an inquiring glance at Adele, who silently urged him on. “Uh, yes,” Myron continued, looking at the toe of one soft leather loafer. “Well, my people have authorized me to offer ten thousand dollars.”
Guerin took Adele by the arm and began to guide her sadly toward the door. “Take your nephew and go home,” he said.
She stared at him, speechless.
“This is a rare opportunity,” Myron protested.
“Take him home, Adele.” Guerin ushered her out the door.
Myron hesitated at the threshold. “I don’t get it. You could go to Tahiti the long way for ten thou.”
Guerin stared at him steadily. Finally, Myron’s gaze faltered. Guerin put a hand on his shoulder. “Come back someday on your own. We have nice things here.” He smiled and closed the door.
It was dark and he was finishing a can of soup at his tiny kitchen table when he heard the tapping at the outer door.
“Please. I’m afraid out here.” Adele’s voice was muffled by the glass, but her fear kept its edge. He sighed and opened up.
“I thought you’d take the money,” she said, sinking with exhaustion into the canvas beach chair.
Guerin turned over the beach pail and sat down stiffly on it.
“You shouldn’t have come here this late by yourself.”
“You could have gone to Tahiti, if that’s what you wanted.” She shook her head sadly.
Guerin reached for her hand. “That was a very generous thing you did, Adele. A very kind and noble thing.”
She looked at him tearfully. “Did you know it was my money Myron was talking about? Is that why you wouldn’t take it?”
He shook his head. “Maybe I don’t want to go anywhere after all.”
She gave him an uncertain glance.
“You see, I am making some people very happy with the ‘junk’ they find here.”
“But what about Tahiti?” Hope had entered her voice.
He paused, his gaze faltering for a moment. Finally, he rose and walked to the bulletin board. He turned to Adele with a wan smile and reached to take down the sales thermometer. Quickly, he tore it in half and dropped it into a trash bin.
“Tahiti was a dream, Adele. A dream like you need to get you through the days when other things are not the way you want them.” He drifted off for a moment but caught himself and turned back to her, gesturing. “I’m very lucky to have found this place. I’m becoming important to my neighborhood.”
She stared back at him, dumbfounded. “You really do want to stay here, don’t you? I’d rather have you go off to that idiot island.” She fumbled in her purse for a handkerchief and began to dab at her eyes.
Guerin came to take her by the shoulders. She stared up at him, uncertain. “Tell me, Adele, are you happy?”
She swallowed, drawing back from his touch. “Happy? I’m as happy as you can be at my age.”
“And what does that mean?”
Her mouth drew grim. “It means that I’m old, and I’m going to die soon, and nobody is going to give a damn, that’s what it means.” She tried to meet his gaze defiantly, but turned away suddenly. Her shoulders began to heave, and then she was sobbing.
Guerin stared down, gauging the depth of her despair. He put his hand on her shoulder. “It’s that bad for you, isn’t it?”
She nodded as she blew her nose into her hanky, and Guerin sat down beside her, brushing his hand at her tears. “You know, Adele, if you’d just learn to dream a little, maybe you and I...”
She looked up as he faltered. “Maybe you and I what?”
He felt his impatience growing and sighed. “Nothing. You don’t understand. If a man can’t go out and make something decent, what does he have to offer?”