Chapter 9: Julie
I returned to Chancellor the next day with a trunk full of cleaning supplies and a heart filled with joy. Dad was going to settle all the paperwork to transfer the name on the property and get the gas and lights turned back on. My father amazed me. It was like he knew, he always knew, that I was chasing the wrong dream. That he stood behind me meant so much. I’d make him proud.
A woman on a mission, I wanted to have the shop turned around before Christmas. Chancellor was famous for their old-fashioned downtown Christmas bazaar. My little shop would be a perfect fit. That morning I’d stopped at the courthouse in Sweet Water and applied for my operators’ license and registered with the Health Department, after spending half the night working online to make my lightning-strike of a dream into a reality. It was nearly noon, and I was officially registered as Green Earth Apothecary and SerendipiTEA Gardens. Before the day ended, I’d be making a phone call to the college to drop my classes. Enough was enough.
Maneuvering through the streets as workers cleaned up after the street fair from the day before, I parked my bug in the side parking lot and toted all my supplies around to the front door. There was a back door to the living space, but the old wrought iron key didn’t work there. I’d have to add calling a locksmith to my to-do list.
When I stuck the old wrought iron key into the door, I was overcome with a happy feeling that made my whole chest swell with light. Nothing had felt this right in a long time. Kismet.
“Honey, I’m home,” I called to the empty space when the door swung open. From inside the greenhouse, a bird chirped a happy little song in reply then fluttered out the open window.
Windows. Windows had to go on the to-do list as well. Speaking of which, I turned then and opened up all the windows, most of which were covered with grime. As I opened each one, I stopped to draw a little heart in the dust.
“Hello, new friend, I’m Julie,” I whispered. “Nice to meet you.”
How long had Mrs. Aster owned the little shop? I slid my finger along the dusty counter. Well, I had to start somewhere. Popping in my earbuds and calling up my favorite folk music playlist, I grabbed one of the many brooms stuffed in the old broom closet. I was surprised to see that the handle of the broom had leaves, flowers, and some really old looking swirls and other designs burned onto the curved handle. That someone had taken the time to lovingly decorate the wood moved me. Taking a deep breath, I leaned into the music and swaying, started sweeping what looked like thirty years of dust off the floor as a sweet breeze blew in through the open window from the lake just a few blocks away.
“Excuse me,” I finally heard someone say along with a tap on my shoulder. From the tone of her voice, I could tell it was not the first time she’d said something.
I turned to find three elderly women looking at me like I’d grown horns.
“Oh, sorry,” I said, pulling out my ear buds. “Had my music turned up too loud and didn’t hear you come in. Can I help you with something?”
The two women standing behind a sweet looking older lady wearing a red and white polka dot raincoat smiled at me.
“Maybe you can. We hope you can,” she said with a smile, looking from me to the broom I was holding. “Well,” she added then, “I haven’t seen you in a very long time. Girls,” she said then, motioning for the others to take a look at the broom I was holding.
The most petite of the three, wearing a large pink hat, gasped audibly. “Who are you?” she asked me then.
“Sorry,” I said then, wiping my hand on my dirty sweatshirt. “I’m Julie Dayton. I’m the new owner.”
Again, all three women looked at me as if they were in shock.
“New owner?” their leader asked.
I smiled. Apparently this was the town busybody committee. If I wanted to make a go in Chancellor, I would definitely need the Ladies’ Auxiliary on my side.
I nodded. “Mrs. Aster was a distant relative of mine. She left me the property. I’m going to reopen the shop.”
Across the room, one of the carved brooms fell out of the closet onto the floor with a loud clatter.
The three older women looked at one another then, after a moment, laughed out loud. They giggled until the third woman, dressed in a purple suit, wiped tears from her eyes.
“Oh, we’re sorry. Julie, wasn’t it? Mrs. Aster was a very good friend of ours. I’m Tootie Row,” the woman in the rain coat introduced, sticking out her hand.
“Violet McClellan,” the woman in the purple suit said, shaking my hand.
“Betty Chanteuse,” the petite little woman introduced.
The names immediately rang a bell. “One minute,” I said. Setting the broom aside, I rushed to the back living space. I returned a moment later with the old photograph. “This is you then, the three of you, with Mrs. Aster?”
“Well, I’ll be,” Tootie said then, looking down at the image. “Was that ‘65?” she asked the others.
They nodded.
“Oh, look at Alberta,” Violet said softly, pointing to another woman in the photo. “Our other friend. She passed away a few years back.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “But I’m so pleased you stopped by. I was hoping someone could tell me about Mrs. Aster. She was a distant relative. I never knew her.”
The three women looked at me, their eyes glimmering with excitement.
“We’d be happy to, Julie,” Tootie said.
“So happy,” Violet added.
“Indeed, indeed. What a miracle. Emma Jane’s relation. Alberta and Emma Jane…they were part of our cov—” Betty started but Tootie raised a hand, cutting her off.
“Not now,” Tootie said then, shooting her friend a knowing but friendly look. “Julie needs to get settled in first. What do you need, dear? What can we help you with? We know everyone in Chancellor. We can help you with just about anything.”
“Well, at the moment, I need a handyman.”
“Oh! I know just the one!” Violet said with a grin. “I’ll send someone over.”
“What else, dear?” Tootie asked but her words were lost when a cement truck, followed by two utility trucks, pulled up across the street.
We all turned to look. Across the street and half a block down was an old watermill that Horatio had mentioned. Looked like, even without Mrs. Aster’s property flattened, the Hunters were proceeding with their restaurant.
“Ugh,” Tootie spat. “The land baron is hard at work, I see.”
“He petitioned the chamber for The Grove again. We’ll need to be at the meeting Thursday night,” Violet said.
“They tried to buy this property,” I said then. “They wanted to turn it into a parking lot.”
The three women gasped.
“No,” Tootie said.
“Well, they tried. Horatio…he was inquiring.”
“Oh, that poor boy,” Betty said then, shaking her head.
“Poor? Why poor?” I hadn’t meant for it to show, but an odd tremor resonated in my voice, revealing my concern.
Tootie, however, had heard. She smiled at me, took me by the arm, then led me to the window. Through the still-dirty glass, I saw a sleek white Mercedes park alongside the trucks. Horatio and an older man, apparently Horatio’s father, got out.
“There he is, slick devil,” Tootie said, the other ladies crowding behind us. “And Horatio. He’s such a sweet boy.”