“No, it wouldn’t. Arnold and Willetta are ruining Sullivan’s. Neither one of them knows how to treat a customer. Neither one of them knows how to keep the place clean, either, not like you did. I stopped in just the other day and the place is a mess.”
“I know. And it breaks my heart.” She took a breath. “When I stopped by to pick up the books, Willetta was waiting on Mrs. Ashby and doing it very badly. She was rude to her, one of the sweetest women in the world. It was obvious to me that Willetta is unhappy that she actually has to work. I’m sure she’d rather be sitting in the apartment, stuffing her face with bonbons.”
Tresia let out a sigh. “Speaking of Willetta, I need to go. Will you keep an eye on Avery?” She nodded toward the ledger. “I need to return that to the store, though I don’t know why. Neither Arnold or Willetta are keeping track of sales or inventory.”
There was another reason she wanted to talk to Arnold alone. The numbers weren’t adding up. She wasn’t sure if they were selling items and simply not recording them. She couldn’t tell, not from the receipts stuck so haphazardly into the ledger. She did know they weren’t paying their invoices. She’d found several that were marked ‘Overdue.’
Arnold and Willetta needed the store. It was their livelihood, but then again, they might not care. They’d gotten what theywanted but had no understanding of how to keep it successfully running. And that broke her heart, too. Not because of the money they were losing, but because it felt like the end of something important.
“Yes, of course, Avery can stay with me. Take all the time you need.”
“Thank you.” She rose from her seat, grabbed her drawstring purse and the ledger then walked through the kitchen door and out onto the back porch, her gaze sweeping over the three children in the process of digging a hole in the dirt. A big hole.
“Avery!”
She looked up, her face and clothes smudged with dirt but that didn’t matter. Beneath the dirt, Avery Goodrich wore a big smile.
“I’ll be right back. You’re going to stay with Lucy, all right?”
Avery nodded then went back to digging, the sun reflecting off the spoon she used.
Lucy stepped up beside her.
“Are those your good spoons?”
Lucy laughed. “No, not my good ones. I keep those for exactly the purpose they’re being used for—digging in the dirt.”
“Look at them! All three are filthy!”
“But they’re having fun and that’s all that matters.” Lucy moved closer to the railing and leaned against it, just watching her niece, nephew and Avery.
“All right, I’m going. I’ll see you in a little bit.”
A few minutes later, Tresia entered the store, not through the front door where the little bell would alert Arnold and Willetta they had a customer, but by the back door, the one that led to the cozy little storage room. She moved through the small room, avoiding pieces of furniture and other items, and pressed her ear against the wooden panel on the other side. All was quiet in the next room. Arnold must be in his office and Willetta—she wasprobably upstairs, as she’d told Lucy, sprawled out on the sofa, her nose in a book, which wasn’t a bad thing, but when one owns a store, one should be in that store.
Leaving the little storeroom, she opened the ledger in the middle, at the ribbon that marked the back half, where the inventory was listed. She dropped her drawstring purse on the counter beside the cash register, fished out a little pencil, and began counting. Five minutes into it, she knew that things had been sold but not recorded. She also noticed that the floor had not been swept or mopped and no one had dusted a darned thing. There was even dust on the counter by the cash register. And the windows hadn’t been washed, something that she had done every morning when she opened the store. Anger and frustration surged through her. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right, either.
“What are you doing here?” Arnold came out of his office as she was counting the tea services on display. There were two missing, though no mention was made in either the inventory list or the list of sales.
She glanced at him, beyond disappointed. She hadn’t seen him since she’d quit. She’d been getting the books from Willetta, who wasn’t happy at all about the arrangement. He looked terrible, haggard, thinner and as if he’d lost weight. “I’m taking inventory.”
“Why?”
“Why?” she repeated, stunned he could be so dense. When he convinced her father to leave him the store in his will, Arnold had only seen how profitable it was. He didn’t seem to think he had to work to keep it that way. She knew the hard work it took to make Sullivan’s the success it was. And apparently, now he knew it, too. When it was almost too late. He hadn’t deposited her two percent of the profits in the bank like he was supposedto do, either. And it was probably because there wasn’t anything to deposit.
“Look at this place, Arnold! When was the last time you took a broom to the floor? When was the last time either of you dusted the displays?” She held up the ledger. “How difficult is it to record a sale in the book? Or pay the bills? I found four invoices that haven’t been paid. That’s not how you run a business.” She shook her head, still unable to comprehend what he was thinking. Or doing. “And what do you need a new chandelier for anyway?”
He didn’t answer, probably because he didn’t have a good answer, but then, he didn’t have to. She already knew. Willetta had wanted a new chandelier so Willetta had gotten a new chandelier. She’d always been that way, always wanting more than she had. “Give me the store back, Arnold.”
“Give it to you? Why would I do that?”
“It’s obvious to me, and everyone else, that you don’t want it. Not really. Neither you or Willetta know how to take care of it. You just wanted the money it brought in. Or used to bring in.” She inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. “You can’t make money if you have no customers, and no one wants to come in here. It’s dirty and your wife is rude to the customers.”
“Get out!” he all but yelled, though, it didn’t seem like he meant it. There was something in his voice, something that told her just how tired he was. And perhaps, disappointed things hadn’t turned out like he expected.
She didn’t care. “I will not.”
“You don’t own it. I do.”
