Page 190 of Share with Me

Chapter Fifty-Eight

The Garnett Antique Shopfacade with old world letterings on its glass doors and windows deceived Brinley into thinking that Matt’s store was small. The store might be narrow in the front, but once she stepped inside, Brinley realized that it was wider in the back and went up two floors.

Above the stairs up against the right wall were two signs with arrows pointing up. One said “Books & Music” and the other said “Watch Your Steps.”

Brinley wondered what Yun McMillan would’ve said about that second sign had she been alive. Perhaps she might have questioned whether it should have said “step” instead of “steps.”

Oh well. She would never know.

“Hello!” Matt was walking up to her. “Glad you stopped by.”

“Mom, this is Matt Garnett. He owns the store.” When there was no reply, Brinley looked around. “Mom?”

Matt chuckled.

“She was right behind me when I came in,” Brinley explained. “She’s probably somewhere in the store. She’ll want a tour.”

Just then Mom appeared from around a step-back cupboard that was taller than she was. Before Brinley could introduce them, Mom had taken care of it herself before getting down to business.

“Is this poplar?” Mom pointed to the cupboard in distressed red.

“Poplar and cherry, ma’am. Got it out of Charleston,” Matt said.

“Charleston. That’s where my husband’s family was from.”

“Let me tell you when it was made. There’s a signature in one of the drawers…”

Brinley walked away before she could hear the rest of the conversation. She wandered around the store, overwhelmed by so many old things that she didn’t know where to begin. Her focus the last ten years had been on musical instruments, but today she was looking for something to fill that wall next to her panoramic window in her new bedroom. She was thinking of a secretary.

She saw a stack of painted boxes from the eighteenth century. Rhode Island. Next to the boxes was an old child’s high chair. Nineteenth-century Savannah. Funny how the design hadn’t changed. Somehow she was drawn to the high chair, but she didn’t know why.

Thinking of Zoe, maybe.

Past the dining and kitchen stuff, she saw a plain, walnut plantation desk. She looked at the year it was made.

“1853.” Antebellum Georgia.This will go nicely with my ergonomic chair.

The price looked about right too.

After browsing a bit more, she went upstairs. She was walking around when she heard footsteps coming up.

“I want to show you something.” Matt led Brinley to some old music manuscripts in a box on a table. The price per sheet was scribbled on the box.

Brinley picked up a sheet music. Then another. Violin. Solos. Duets. Some with accompaniments. Some not.

“I think there are about five hundred sheets in here. I’ve sold a few of the pieces already, but they’re so old, so brittle, and some of them were handwritten.”

“I see.” Brinley put the sheet music in her hand back into the box. “You’re telling me this because…?”

“The idiot who sold me these was getting out of town fast. He needed the money, so he sold it to me for what I think is a fraction of the value.”

“He? Do I know him?” Brinley asked.

“I just gave a clue.”

“You did?”

“Yes, he’s the village idiot.”

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