AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter One
“It’s the death of a thousand cuts,” moaned Corney Clark, shaking her head sadly. “There’s free shipping, next-day delivery, even same-day delivery. E-commerce is killing us; Main Street is becoming a ghost town.” Corney, executive director of the Tinker’s Cove Chamber of Commerce, was sitting in the office of the coastal Maine town’s local newspaper, The Courier, where she was pitching a story to part-time reporter Lucy Stone. Corney, always professionally groomed, had her frosted hair clipped in a neat cut, and was wearing a pink plaid shirt with a matching quilted vest and trim gray slacks against the chilly spring weather. Lucy was dressed rather more casually in an oversized turtleneck sweater and jeans, but both were wearing the iconic Country Cousins duck boots that were a necessity in springtime Maine.
“It’s always slow this time of year,” observed Phyllis, the receptionist, philosophically. Phyllis chose her outfits according to the season and now that Easter was just around the corner was wearing a bright green sweatshirt that featured a bunny liberally bedecked with sequins. Pink leggings and polka dot reading glasses completed her outfit.
“Phyllis has a point,” observed Lucy. “It’s officially spring but winter doesn’t want to let go. People are still hibernating.”
Corney shook her head, disagreeing. “Nope. It’s the internet. We’ve done a study and foot traffic is definitely down, people can’t be bothered to go to brick-and-mortar stores when they can push a button on their computer and get delivery the next day.”
“Sounds like one way to run up a big credit card bill,” said Phyllis.
“You said it,” agreed Lucy. “And half the time what you get isn’t what you thought it would be and you’ve got to return it.”
“Or do like my niece Elfrida and forget all about it until the clutter gets to be too much and she donates a bunch of brand-new stuff to the thrift shop.”
Lucy’s eyebrows rose. “Really? With five kids at home I wouldn’t think Elfrida’s got money to waste.”
“She doesn’t,” snapped Phyllis.
“Well, to get back on track here,” began Corney, “the Chamber’s come up with a terrific idea that we believe will encourage locals to rediscover the wonderful merchants in our town.” Opening the slim leather portfolio she’d brought with her, Corney displayed an Easter card featuring a colorful image of an Easter basket, with a number of the eggs drawn only in outline. “We’re sending one of these Easter cards to everyone in town.”
“Well, it’s nice,” said Lucy, somewhat underwhelmed. “But maybe you should have finished the drawing. What’s with those empty egg shapes?”
“Stickers!” proclaimed Corney, producing a sheet of colorful Easter egg stickers. “Every Chamber member in town has a supply of these stickers, which they will award to customers who spend at least ten dollars.”
“Do you really think folks will want to collect stickers?” asked Phyllis, in a doubtful tone. “Stickers are for kids.”
“There’s more,” said Corney, with a sly smile. “Everyone who completes their card and fills all ten blanks can enter a drawing for this deluxe Easter basket.” She handed Lucy a photo depicting an oversized basket filled to the brim with assorted goodies. “And when I say deluxe, I mean absolutely fabulous. There’s candy, gift certificates, luxury products and . . .” She paused to pat Lucy’s desk in a drum roll. “A mini golden egg sculpture by Karl Klaus.”
“Karl Klaus, hey, his stuff goes for thousands,” said Phyllis.
“Is he still working?” asked Lucy. She knew the controversial sculptor, who was known for elevating simple household items into works of art, was a recluse who lived on a remote inland farm.
“I thought he died,” offered Phyllis.
“No. He’s alive and well.”
“Somehow I can’t see him donating one of his sculptures,” said Lucy, who knew Klaus was notoriously tight-fisted, to the point of neglecting his person and his property. He lived in a huge barn that also served as a studio, and had been engaged in disputes with local officials involving a failing septic system and an ever-growing mountain of junk in his yard.
“A generous benefactor has donated the egg,” said Corney, “on condition of anonymity.”
“I don’t suppose Klaus would be willing to be interviewed,” speculated Lucy, sensing an opportunity for a scoop. She was already thinking of questions she’d like to ask the artist whose latest attempt to break into the nation’s collective consciousness was a gilded toilet plunger exhibited a couple of years ago at a Soho art gallery.
“That toilet plunger was terribly derivative,” observed Phyllis. “A clear reference to that gold toilet that was stolen from Blenheim Palace.” She paused, adding, “That’s in England, you know.”
Lucy’s and Corney’s mouths both dropped in surprise, as Phyllis was not known for keeping up with the contemporary art scene, or any art scene for that matter.
“Since when . . .” began Lucy.
Phyllis smirked. “I was at the dentist yesterday, and you know he’s got those ancient magazines in the waiting room. He was running late due to Eddie Culpepper’s impacted wisdom tooth and I ended up reading an old Time magazine.”
“Well, that is a relief,” said Lucy, chuckling. “I was afraid you’d gone all artsy on me.”
“No chance.”
“How’s Eddie?” asked Corney.
“It was pretty awful,” recalled Phyllis. “Lots of groans and he looked pretty shaky when he left.”
