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“It’s crowded today.” I dodged a man handing out flyers for one of the Bourbon Street bars. “I thought weekends were the busy time down here.”
“Every day’s busy anymore. I swear, we have more tourists every year. Have you thought about looking at shops in the Garden District instead? I know a few out there that are willing to entertain an offer.” We were paused at a light, and she looked at me hopefully.
“It’s a possibility. I wanted to be on Royal Street. But I’m not willing to pay extra just because I’m desperate.” I glanced at my watch again. We were two minutes late now and still a few blocks away from the shop.
A woman in a flowered dress and several plastic bead necklaces walked through the crosswalk and the car that was driving past us. I blinked as I saw her reemerge on the other side and smile at me. This power was going to take some time to get used to, that was for sure. Maybe setting up a shop away from the high tourist traffic might not be a bad idea. Antique shoppers loved small quaint shops in beautiful neighborhoods. If I could find the right property, it might just be a better location.
The only problem was I had my heart set on a French Quarter setting.
As we got closer to Bourbon Street, the tourist traffic slowed. People must be sleeping in after a night at the bars. We turned onto Royal and went past my favorite dinner place, The Court of Two Sisters. Honestly, we could have met at my hotel and been closer to the shop, but Danielle had called to confirm the appointment after I’d already left to walk around. I looked behind me and spotted the bodyguard Nic had assigned me. I’d thought I’d lost him on my walk to the coffee shop, but no such luck.
He, and his relief, always wore a black suit with black sunglasses. He looked like a cast member of The Men in Black. And somehow, it didn’t look weird in the mix of tourist clothes and feather boas. The name he’d given me to call him was Bubba. He didn’t match the image that came up with the name. I knew it wasn’t his real name. He was probably an Edward or a Michael or a Thomas. I’d learned as a child from our own security team at the compound that most of the time, our guys didn’t give out their real names, just a code name they were assigned when they were hired. I’m sure his employer had gotten a good joke out of calling the blond, blue-eyed tall slim man that was now two people behind me, Bubba.
I waved at him as we crossed over another street. He furrowed his eyebrows. Apparently, he didn’t want people to know he was following me. Or he was mad at how I’d tried to ditch him earlier. I expected a call from Nic anytime telling me to stop being childish.
As we got closer to the building, my heart started to race. Hopefully Matty truly wanted to sell this time because I knew the multi-level building held floors crowded with furniture, antiques, and, if rumors were true, a few Egyptian artifacts with questionable papers. I wanted the building, the contents, and the location.
Danielle was already on the next showing telling me about a quaint little store in the middle of the Garden District near Lafayette Cemetery #1 and Commander’s Palace. “Shall I set up a visit tomorrow? We can ride the street cars out there if you’d like. I’ll treat you to lunch.”
“Let’s see how today goes, but I’m willing to look.” I groaned inwardly. If she knew I was considering a different location, she might not be as intense on getting me something in the French Quarter. My brother’s voice echoed in my head,you’re too nice and stop ditching Bubba.
In response, I tightened my walls to keep him out. That’s what nice does, I responded as I finished the wall in my head. I heard a chuckle on the other side. My brother’s connection with me was getting stronger the longer I stayed in New Orleans. One of the reasons I’d left in the first place was so I didn’t have to worry about who was listening into my thoughts. Now, I needed to find a way to keep him out, even if we were standing side by side. A niggle in the back of my mind told me that one of my ancestors memories had a solution, but I’d have to deal with it later.
I stared up at the building. Goldstein’s Antiques had a first level of big, showcase windows, then the tan building moved upward with only three windows on this side per floor that I could see. The buildings next to it were built close and I didn’t think I could walk between them. So having windows on those sides was kind of useless. “I love this place.”
“Well, don’t love it too much. You know we’re already behind the eight ball since your family is well known in the area and it’s rumored you just came into an inheritance. A fact I’m ignoring and trying to convince others that it’s just a rumor. Talk about your work in Seattle. Why you want to own an antique store. And maybe how much you love the area. Just don’t be too sold on the building going in. We need some sort of negotiation leverage to have a ghost of a chance with Matty.”
A passing by ghost giggled at the word choice and nodded at me. Then she disappeared into the building next door.
I nodded and followed her into the antique store, trying not to follow my gaze and gush over the pieces crowded into the first floor. If I got this place, I’d clear it and then reset little vignettes. I could see that table set with the china stashed over by the window with the over-the-top chandelier hanging above. And the monkey light on a fake wall with over the top wallpaper. I tried to stop resetting the pieces as Danielle asked the salesman who’d come to greet us where we could find Matty.
“He’s in his office on the second floor.” The man frowned as he looked at us. His name tag said his name was Mark and he was happy to help, but he didn’t look too happy. “Is he expecting you?”
“Yes. Point us to the elevator and we’ll go up.” Danielle said as a customer came in and started gushing over the monkey lamp. “That way you can help your customer.”
The frown deepened, but he pointed to the side wall. “It’s over there, behind the customer service sign. I’ll call him and let him know you’re coming.”
I watched as he pulled his cellphone out of his pants and dialed while walking toward the new arrival. That man had an attitude and if I got to buy the place, he’d be one of the first to go. Maybe it was the lack of food that was making me grumpy. I should have gotten that beignet that Helen wanted to enjoy. I saw Bubba standing guard outside, looking through the window at me. I wondered if he’d freak out when we got on the elevator, but he knew I was looking for a store to buy. Maybe he’d treat me like an adult and let me work. It would be a nice change of pace after being home with my family for the last few weeks. Aunt Franny had called me every night for the last week, trying to set up time to chat. Or dinner. Or coffee. Or meet some nice son of a friend. I couldn’t even think about the horror of a dinner with a guy who my aunt was trying to matchmake with me.
I pushed the up button, there was also a down, which told me the place had a basement as well. Hopefully nothing important was down there since the area had problems with flooding and hurricanes.
When the door opened on the second floor, we stepped into a warehouse filled with boxes and furniture and items. “That weasel gave us the wrong floor,” Danielle grumped.
We went back into the elevator and pushed the button for the third floor. This time when the doors opened, a sign pointed left toward offices and right to the employee break room.
I stepped out and turned left. “Maybe he meant to say third.”
Danielle shook her head. “No, he was playing games with us. Which means Matty is too. This was probably a waste of time. Sorry to get your hopes up.”
“It’s worth a shot. Let’s see what he really wants and see if I can go that high.” I kept thinking about the dining room scene I’d imagined on the first floor. And now, I’d already seen several items on the second floor that should be front and center in those showroom windows. Matty wasn’t taking advantage of what he owned.
“Okay, it’s your time to waste, I guess.” Danielle walked up to Matty’s door and knocked.
“Come in,” a deep, masculine voice responded. As we walked into the office, I saw that Matty Goldstein liked the finer things in life. The room was filled with items I would have had out to sell, not locked away in my office. The oriental rug itself was probably worth over ten thousand. And I didn’t even want to price in my head the desk he was sitting at with a soda sitting by his computer. Without a coaster. I swallowed and fought my urge to go pick it up and put something, anything under it so it didn’t ruin the finishing. Or the wood.
I let Danielle take the lead on the conversation. I focused instead on Matty Goldstein. His thoughts were jumbled all over the place. Danielle’s sources had been right, Matty was bleeding money in the business. They weren’t making a profit, and now, he wasn’t going to be able to make his bank payments. The thought of foreclosure hung over him like a black balloon. He hadn’t set up the business as a corporation or even an LLC. He was sole owner and proprietor of Goldstein’s Antiques, and he was going to go down with the ship.
When Danielle introduced me and asked me to tell Matty why I was interested in buying the business, I laid it on thick, hitting all the sore spots I’d found while observing the man. “I love design. It’s my passion and all I can think about when I see a place is how beautiful it would be with a few tweaks. Like your showroom. Customers are probably having trouble finding the items they want, so they leave and go somewhere else where it’s less crowded and more focused on furniture for beautiful homes. I can set up the showroom so the place will continue to thrive, even when you’re in Jamaica on your first holiday for what, five, ten years?”
