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They clashed over colors at the paint store, but when I pointed out their similarities, they settled on two samples of softer grays for the walls.
“Still want to head to Worthy’s?” I asked when we got back in the truck.
“Let’s do it,” Grant replied enthusiastically, and Delaney laughed.
The closer to the store we got, the more fidgety Grant became. Delaney held his tongue, despite the tic in his jaw, but it only seemed like pure anticipation to me.
“This is it?” Grant asked as I parked in front of the store. “I would’ve never guessed.”
“That’s what I thought at first too.” Delaney smiled at me across the seat. “Wait until you get inside.”
I unlocked the door, and they followed me in.
“Whoa,” Grant said as I hit the lights, and he stepped beyond the front entrance.
“Told you,” Delaney said with a smile. “And this time, I’m not here in the dark. Which reminds me to bug you about purchasing a generator.”
I smiled and shook my head. “Feel free to look around while I consider what supplies I’ll need.”
Grant took his time perusing the various projects lining every surface as if they were sacred, commenting here and there about time periods while Delaney and I rounded up drop cloths and sanding tools to store in his garage.
“This is the radio I was telling you about,” Delaney said to Grant as he stepped toward the Philco project. I had finished staining it since he was here last. “I still want to fiddle with the circuit board.”
“And I still think you should,” I replied, but he was already stepping behind it, inspecting it as if in a trance or on a mission. I recognized that look, so I left him to it and summoned Grant farther into the larger room.
“Wait, I recognize this.” Grant stepped up to a vintage box on a table. “Is this…this is a type of spyglass from the British Royal Navy.”
“That’s right.” Holy shit, this kid was so fucking smart. And impressive. “It’s antique brass with a nineteen-inch telescope and in darn good condition.”
He was completely mesmerized by it. “Can I touch it?”
“Absolutely. I know you’ll be careful.”
He gently lifted the spyglass, his fingers shaking, his lips parting in awe. I so appreciated his reverence for vintage collectibles.
“My customer had a relative who served in World War I overseas.”
“What’s the country of origin?” he asked, looking down at the design carved into the brass.
“India, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Yeah, that makes sense.” He carefully placed it back in the wooden storage box, then turned to view the store as a whole. There didn’t appear to be any rhyme or reason to how things were stored, but I knew exactly where everything was located. “I think this is the coolest place I’ve ever been.”
My chest constricted, and I struggled for a proper response.
“And the store itself has a history,” Delaney said, coming up behind him. “Right, Marc?”
“Yep.” I smiled at him. “Worthy’s was founded by my great-grandfather and was the first Black-owned business in the area.”
Grant’s eyebrows lifted to his hairline. “Is that why you kept it going?”
I nodded. “And because I can’t picture myself doing anything else.”
“Cool,” he replied, and then his gaze landed on something across the room, and his feet followed.
“Thank you,” Delaney said as we watched him look through a table of vintage maps of the city. They actually belonged to me. I was a collector of sorts too.
“Of course. Had I known he’d respond like this, I would’ve brought him over sooner.”
Delaney smiled. “So, hey, I think I know how to fix that radio if you want me to give it a shot. It just needs a couple of new coils, and I can get those.”
“Seriously?” When he nodded, I said, “That would be great. In the meantime, let me show you something.”
He followed me to the back of the room, toward a rectangular cabinet.
“I was thinking about this for your kitchen island,” I said, moving some of the larger items stored on top. “The height is right. We could choose a countertop, there’s plenty of storage, and there would even be room for stools.”
“This is cool.” Grant wandered over and ran his hand over the finish. “Who did it belong to?”
“It came from a turn-of-the-century farmhouse, which is why it’s so rustic-looking. But I’ll sand and stain it to match your cupboards.”
Grant threw up his arms. “Awesome!”
“I guess that’s a yes,” Delaney said with a laugh. “But only if you’re ready to part with it. Wouldn’t you want—”
“I am,” I replied, cutting off that line of thinking. I knew he meant well, but I didn’t want to go there. “And besides, I know you’ll make good use of it.”
It felt right to use the sturdy piece in Delaney’s home, and I’d get to visit it whenever I was invited over. The way things were going, I hoped that would be often.
