ONE
The bells on the door jingled as Candice entered the antique store. “Good morning,” a smiling elderly woman sang out as she leisurely walked toward the counter. She reminded Candice of her first-grade teacher, her gray hair neatly wrapped in a bun on top of her head, resembling a cinnamon roll minus the sugar glaze. She wore a fifties-inspired navy blue dress with a crisp white starched lace collar, an ensemble that matched her blue and white oxford shoes. Balanced above her left ear was a #2 canary yellow pencil that added a touch of casualness to her pristine appearance.
“Hello, just thought I’d look around,” Candice responded, needing a little retail therapy.
“Well, if I can be of any assistance, just holler.” The woman smiled and proceeded to open a large box on the counter.
Candice made her way up and down the aisles looking for anything to make her feel better. She stopped abruptly when she spotted a perfect little bistro table with two chairs. The table was dark mahogany with drop leaf sides and would be ideal up against the wall in her tiny kitchen. The chairs matched the beautiful mahogany with white accent paint to contrast the dark wood. She quickly made her way to the exquisite piece and sat in one of the two wooden chairs. She leaned forward to get a closer look at the wood grain while carefully crossing her legs.
“Beautiful dinette. Just arrived yesterday,” the elderly woman informed her in a warm voice without looking up from the ornate hat she had just lifted from the box.
“Yes, it is.” Candice’s eyes quickly shifted and focused on the hat. “How much for that hat?”
“Dear, this hat needs to be cleaned and repaired.” The woman carried the hat as she stepped out from behind the counter. She gently placed it on Candice’s head. “Go take a look in the mirror. It accentuates your beautiful features and compliments your blue eyes. Not to mention it goes perfectly with the dress you are wearing,” the woman spoke softly, pointing to an armoire with an uncommonly large mirror.
Candice gazed at her reflection. “Oh, my,” she remarked, mesmerized by the elaborate black velvet hat. There was a large bow on one side, surrounded by enough feathers to make a peacock jealous. “How much for this hat as it is?”
“I can sell it to you for $75.00. It’s from the early 1900s,” the woman replied smiling.
“I’ll take it. Now, how much for that table and chairs?” Candice turned, making her way back to the bistro set.
“I’d be willing to part with that for $1000.00,” the woman offered. “It’s sturdy construction. They don’t make things like that anymore. You know, with all the particleboard and veneers these days. That table there, it’s a durable piece of furniture.”
“I’ll take that too. Can I pick it up tomorrow?”
“Of course. And we deliver free of charge for furniture purchases within ten miles.”
“Oh, that would be great.” Candice pulled out her checkbook. “Now how much do I owe you?”
The elderly woman opened a receipt book as ancient as the antiquities in her store and started filling in pertinent information. “I found this receipt book while going through my father’s things,” the woman remarked tenderly. “Now is there anything else I can help you with, dear?”
“Well actually, yes. Around the corner, there was an interesting piece that is painted like a rainbow? What exactly is that used for?”
“You must be referring to the credenza. That particular style would have been used to store papers, or maybe you could repurpose it and put silverware in it. My grandson found it in an old barn. I’m pretty sure it’s solid oak under all that paint, so once it’s stripped of its many coats of color and refinished, it will be a stunning piece of furniture.”
“How much are you asking for it?” Candice inquired.
“I can sell that for $1700 if you would like to refinish it yourself. However, if you prefer we refinish it, the price would go up to around $3800.”
“I’d like that as well. I will refinish it myself, as I need something to keep me busy. I’m going to have a lot of time on my hands,” Candice said, placing her purse on the counter so she could fill out the check.
“I look forward to seeing you again,” the shop owner said, handing her the receipt. “I’ll have my grandson deliver your dinette set and credenza tomorrow, around four?”
“Sounds great.” Candice positioned the hat on her head with a slight tilt. “Nice meeting you,” she said exiting with a wave.
Candice stood tall, balancing her huge hat on her head, and began strolling down the street in her high heels, obviously designed for looks and not comfort. A strong breeze began blowing, and Candice reached up in an attempt to keep her hat in place, but she was not quick enough. The hat took flight and continued swirling down the street like a ballerina, twirling around. Trotting in five-inch stilettos, she did her best to keep up with the traveling hat. Each time she got close another gust of air carried it further. The wind finally died down allowing the hat gently settled on the sidewalk. Candice quickly reached for it, but then the wind lifted the hat and tossed it onto a porch stoop. Out of breath and cursing her broken heel, Candice climbed the steps and bent down to retrieve her new hat. As she reached for the hat, she noticed a large mound of mail scattered on the floor just inside the glass-paneled door. Cupping her hands on the side of her eyes, she pressed her face against the door, trying to get a better look inside. It was very dark. All she could see were cobwebs and shadows. Interesting.-I wonder what’s going on with this building? There was rarely a vacant building in the heart of Noe Valley, a trendy neighborhood in San Francisco.
Candice turned to head back down the steps, holding the hat tightly in her left hand to avoid any more impromptu exercise. No wonder I’ve never noticed anyone wearing a hat on a blustery day. With hat in hand and a broken heel, she limped down the stairs.
“What a day this is turning out to be,” Candice sighed under her breath.
When she reached the bottom of the stairs, her cell phone began to chirp. “Hello.”
“What’s going on?” It was her best friend Jazzlene, whose voice sounded noticeably concerned.
“Well, I just bought some antique furniture. Now I’m going to head for home, I guess.” Candice turned around to regard the vacant building again.
“Candi, I just called your office to see if you wanted to meet me for lunch and I got a message saying you were no longer an employee.”
“Oh, boy they don’t miss a beat. I got my pink slip this morning. And yes, it was actually pink,” Candice said, trying to toss some humor into the situation.
“What? But I thought everything was okay. Didn’t they say they’d move you to another department?”
“Well, what can I tell ya? They really made big cuts this time. I guess my job as a meeting manager, planning all the conferences and community events just aren’t in the budget any longer.”
“But you are the most organized and ambitious person I know. No one else can run in five directions and coordinate like you can.”
“What can I say? I loved my job, but there has to be something else I can do besides planning meetings with clients to help promote business and morale.” Candice tried to keep her tone positive. She did not want to drown in the emotional undertow grabbing at her.
“You can help me at the studio. I’m always in need of a good assistant.” Jazzlene moved the phone to her other ear.
“Of course. I’d be happy to help you while I figure out what to do. I should also explore some business ideas. Like, say I do party planning, and I pass my clients to you for their photography needs. We’d work great together.”
“Why don’t I stop by your house tonight and we can brainstorm. I’m sure we can come up with something creative.” The enthusiasm in Jazzlene’s voice soothed Candice’s bruised spirit.
“Yes, I would like that. A glass of wine and a good movie to top off the night.”
“How ‘bout I pick up Chinese food on my way to your house?”
“That would be great. I’ll see you around seven.”
Candice’s focus returned to the unoccupied dwelling before her. She noticed two words scrawled on the large window. She dropped the cell phone into her purse while she briskly climbed the stairs once more. There, in small lettering, were the words For Sale, followed by a phone number. Candice dug out her pen and the receipt from the antique store and scribbled down the number.
Wanting to soak in the grand scale of the neglected house, she walked across the street to view its entirety. The architecture was incredible, but then again San Francisco had magnificent historical buildings throughout the city. She examined the facade, absorbing the ambiance of the old Victorian.
A white van pulled up to the curb, blocking Candice’s view of the house. The driver got out. “Good morning,” the cheery man said as he opened the sliding door on the side.
“Hello,” Candice responded, stepping aside not taking her eyes off the house.
The driver reached up to steady each passenger as one by one they stepped out of the van onto the sidewalk.
“My name is Tom. Tom Morgan. How are you?” the first passenger asked, acknowledging Candice’s presence. He maneuvered his white cane, trying to get his bearings.
Candice stepped forward and took his hand. “Well, good morning Tom. I’m Candice,” she replied, tenderly rubbing his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Tom, Tom Morgan,” he announced loudly. “You have soft hands.” He felt every finger.
“Thank you.” Candice realized that each person that exited the van was disabled. Tom was obviously blind. A petite girl who was staring up at the clouds suddenly became very animated when she made eye contact with Candice. She smiled and attempted to say something but every word that came out of her mouth was inaudible.
“Marni is trying to say hello,” the driver informed Candice.
“Well, hello Marni. Nice meeting you.” Candice reached out, and Marni latched onto her hand, squeezing it tightly. The strength that this tiny girl exhibited shocked Candice.
“Did you come to visit us?” a round-faced boy asked, excited at the prospect of a guest.
As Candice turned to face him, Marni held her grip on Candice’s hand, refusing to let go. “Well, no. I was actually just admiring that building across the street.”
“We live here. This is our home. I’m Hector,” the round-faced boy said with pride. “Those are my flowers. They smell really good. You want one?”
“Maybe next time, I don’t have any free hands right now. I need to carry this big hat because the wind blows it off my head.”
Hector looked down at Candice’s feet, “Hey, your shoe’s broken!”
“Yes, while I was chasing this hat down the street, the heel broke right off.”
“You need to be careful. If you trip and fall, you’ll get hurt.” Concern appeared in Hector’s eyes.
“Well Miss, I need to get these three in the house for their lunch now,” the driver said as he put Tom’s hand on his shoulder to help guide him.
“Bye Candice,” Tom said following his sighted leader.
“I hope to see all of you again soon.” Sincere warmth came through Candice’s voice.
Marni waved frantically, flapping her hand wildly in the air, turning around briefly to get her last peek at Candice as she stepped across the threshold of the front entrance.
Candice stood there a few moments longer, unable to take her eyes off the deserted house that was in need of repair. Lively colors flooded her mind as she let her imagination soar. The house became a soft shade of pink that appeared almost white, accented by dark plum trim. Above the door were a stained glass art piece of purples, blues, and greens, welcoming each guest upon his or her arrival. Bordering the pathway were petunias in every shade of purple that encouraged each passerby to stroll through the entrance. A blossoming dark pink crape myrtle shaded a park bench situated underneath its colorful foliage. The house beckoned to each person that approached it. At least that is what Candice envisioned the house would have looked like in its heyday. She finally took her cell phone out of her purse and snapped a picture of the formerly stately house.
Once again, Candice was hobbling down the street wondering where life was going to take her. She had no doubt it was going to be a struggle, but she was a strong woman with many aspirations. Her job loss was just an obstacle she would tear down to forge her path.
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