Page 2 of Welcome to Gothic
“I put one item in each bag, either clothes or a prop. The kids scale the obstacles, grab a bag and run back to their parent. They open the bag and dress their designated parent in whatever is inside. When we run out of bags, we’ll take family photos and have cake. The kids will love it!”
“Not so much the parents, I suspect,” Minnie said severely.
“Probably not. One of my kids is new, and his mother is a single parent. She informed me she couldn’t be there for the party, so I’m going to stand in for her and that’ll lessen any potential embarrassment for her son.” Wendy grinned. “And for any dignified parent.”
Mabel clasped her hands. “Everybody will lovethat!”
“Oh, I know.” Wendy didn’t spend a lot of time worrying about her dignity. She began looking around the shop for the most extravagant pieces for her costume bags.
Built in the glory days of the thirties, the theater had once been a palace indeed. The ceiling was decorated with Egyptian motifs and gilded with gold leaf. The pillars had been carved and painted to look like the columns of Karnak. Framed and faded old movie posters decorated the walls. Even now, the smells of real butter and popcorn permeated the air. Wendy knew in its day the building had been a marvel. Not so much now; it showed its age, but like Minnie and Mabel kept its charm alive with three well-dressed wax figures of silent movie stars. Wendy thought the mannequins were creepy, but they attracted a lot of tourist attention.
The wall between the lobby and auditorium had been removed. The now-open space was the shop area where the sisters kept an ever-changing stock of designer clothes that attracted a diverse clientele—people with pretentions, people who loved to dress up and, possibly the most important source of income, Hollywood costume designers looking for inspiration.
Mabel got right down to business. “You’re looking for wigs, feather boas, dramatic swishy cloaks?”
“Exactly.”
“You’ve come to the right place,” Minnie said. “When Maeve Lindholm closed the theater in December 1941—Pearl Harbor forced the closing, you know—all the props and costumes were hung up or packed away backstage, and they’ve never been completely cleared out.”
Mabel clasped her hands over her heart. “There are trunks back there that have never been opened!”
“Wow.” Wendy looked at the stage, rising seven feet above the main floor and sectioned off from the space by a painted plywood wall. “How do I get up there?”
“I’ll take you,” Minnie said.
“No, dear, I will,” Mabel countered. “You know I’m more familiar with backstage.”
“How will I ever become familiar if I don’t—”
“One of us has to stay and mind the shop!”
“And it should be you!”
The sisters reminded Wendy of two bees buzzing crossly around each other.
The front door opened bringing a surge of people, chatting and laughing, ready to shop.
“The tour bus must have pulled in,” Mabel said.
Minnie consulted the small antique watch that hung around her neck. “They’re early,” she said in patent disapproval. “We’ll both need to be here to handle the customers. Wendy, can you find your way around backstage by yourself?”
“Of course!” Wendy tingled with anticipation of such an adventure.
Mabel took Wendy by the arm. “This way.” She led her through a series of industrial folding room dividers and into the other half of the floor space. The newly constructed bookshelves gave off a fresh lumber smell, and everywhere boxes of books stood open. Mabel stopped to allow Wendy to get a good look. “The bookshop will specialize in theater arts and history, of course, but we expect our primary sales to be in books about the occult and transformations and all the things Gothic is famous for.”
“The currents,” Wendy said.
“Exactly.”
“What does Madame Rune think of that?” Just up Gothic’s winding street, the flamboyant Rune ran Madame Rune’s Psychic Readings and Bookshop.
“It was her idea. She’s moving her bookshop over here for us to handle. In exchange, she’s taking some of our more gaudy items to sell in her store.” Mabel’s eyes gleamed with delight. “We have a lead on the wax figure of Maria Ouspenskaya as Maleva the Gypsy fortune-teller inThe Wolf Man!”
Wendy gave a blank stare.
“You’re too busy to watch old movies, and that one is from the 1930s. But if we manage to land the figure, it’s going over to Madame Rune’s shop, too. Anyway, we’ve found cross-pollination increases everyone’s sales. All we have to do is find the time to set up the shelves!” Mabel led Wendy to a locked door. “Go backstage and hunt. Remember to be careful. In its day, before it was a movie theater, this place was Maeve Lindholm’s fully functioning playhouse where she and her movie actor friends would perform to lure the public to the area. There are trapdoors and ropes and curtains and props everywhere.”
“I’ll be careful,” Wendy promised.
