Page 56 of Something Borrowed

The description stayed with Vic. It did smell like Christmas. And with its millions of twinkle lights and the various decorated trees dispersed throughout the shop, it looked like Christmas too. The Christmas of every little kid’s fantasy.

And shoppers loved it too. Vic hadn’t known what to expect. Did people buy second-hand or upcycled items for gifts? Apparently, yes. Vic was thrilled to see the little store thriving and did her best to earn the paychecks she made, and even more importantly, to reward Madeline’s faith in her by trying to match exactly the right items with each shopper.

“Five more minutes and we can lock the doors—thank goodness!” Madeline whispered as she inched behind Vic at the till to fetch a tiny collectible shelf someone had asked them to hold until they were done shopping and were ready to pay.

Vic laughed. “You don’t fool anyone, Madeline. You love every bit of the festive chaos.” And so do I, she thought.

Madeline twinkled. “What can I say? When you’re right, you’re right.”

“It is so fun, isn’t it?” Gwen said, walking over with a large potted plant, obviously having overheard them. Before they could say anything else, the door jingled again.

The three women exchanged a look and raised their eyebrows.

“Maybe we shouldn’t all so clearly not mind working late,” Madeline said.

A tall, grey-haired woman rushed over. “I’m so, so sorry to barge in so close to closing. I was at work and couldn’t get out any faster.”

“It’s one hundred percent okay,” Madeline assured her. “Take your time. We don’t mind a bit—and there are still a few cookies left, if you fancy a little snack.”

“Thank you so much, but I don’t so much need to browse as I—are you Vic?”

Madeline smiled. “No, I’m Madeline—and this is Gwen.” She motioned toward Gwen, who, always in constant motion, had settled the plant on the till counter and was now straightening a box of locally made Christmas cards. “And here’s Vic.”

Vic stepped forward nervously. She’d never seen this woman in her life. “Um, hello—”

“Claire,” the woman said, and stuck out her hand.

Vic shook it, still without a single clue about who Claire was.

“I’m friends with Savannah.”

Vic caught Madeline’s eyes and lifted her shoulders in the tiniest shrug. Madeline clearly understood body language for Help! I don’t have the foggiest.

“Savannah . . .” Madeline said thoughtfully. “The young woman with the two close-in-age babies? Usually with one on her back and one on her front in a sling.”

“Oh!” Vic said. “Of course.” The mom she’d made tea for, then sketched. “How can I help you, Claire?” If anything, her association with Savannah made Vic more confused.

To her shock, Claire pulled the little sketch Vic had done of Savannah and her kids, now framed, out of her bag. “You did this?”

“Um . . .”

“Yes, she sure did,” Madeline said. “She’s amazing, hey?” She motioned to the more detailed portrait of Boots, also framed, in vintage gold leaf, no less, hanging above the till. “I have one of hers too.”

“Oh my—” Claire studied the little picture of the fat cat with open admiration and seemed almost speechless, but only for a moment. “So absolutely darling! And the cat answers my question!”

“Oh?”

“Sorry, I’m all over the map—I wasn’t planning this but . . .” Claire took a breath. “I’m Savannah’s aunt. That’s how I came across your work.”

My “work,” Vic thought, not sure whether to be proud or amused.

“And I would’ve merely thought it sweet and not given it another thought, except my dear friend Lacey’s ancient cat—her best friend in the world except for me—just died, and the timing, with Christmas, already a hard time for so many people, well . . . I thought, maybe if I could get her a special little memorial of some kind, it would be, well, probably not a comfort, at least not right away, but something to say without words that I know how special Lady Rumpelstiltskin was to her.” Claire inhaled audibly.

“Lady Rumpelstiltskin?” Vic said, still not quite understanding what was being asked.

“That is quite the name,” said Madeline.

“Isn’t it just? I mean, we all, Lacey included, called her Rumple for short.”