Provenance by Sue Mell

Author:Sue Mell [Mell, Sue]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Madville Publishing
Published: 2022-06-06T00:00:00+00:00

Having changed and towel-dried his hair, DJ felt obliged to check in on David before leaving, but David was either asleep or pretending to be—which was just fine with him. DJ had his own agenda and a couple of hours before he had to pick up Elise.

He parked across from the antiques store; the rain tapered to a drizzle. A foolish fantasy, he supposed—that she’d close up shop for lunch, that he’d bring something in. She did say she was chained to the store. A distraction, Connie would say, but he wanted—he needed—something to hope for, no matter how unlikely the odds.

He ducked under the permanent canopy, the rhythm of his heart picking up, but the door didn’t give. The movable clock hands of the be-back-by sign were set to eleven, which it was long past. Only looking closer did he note the daily hours which said closed on Mondays—like everything else in this tourist driven town. He placed his hand on the glass-paneled door and peered in, just able to make out a bent figure, dragging a box from behind the counter out into the aisle. With a pleasurable jangle of nerves, he gave the door the loud first half of a shave and a haircut knock. The figure straightened. Not Andrea, but a man—the Post-it wielding brother. Alex—that was it—crossed his hands like a ref calling out a bad play. DJ held up a finger, signing just one minute. Alex shook his head no, but DJ recognized that dragging of a heavy box, would’ve bet his life that what it contained was records. Andrea had made him sound like a difficult man, but maybe Alex could help him. He put his hands together, as if to say please, and though Alex splayed his own in exasperation, he came and opened the door.

“You must be Alex.”

“Must I?”

The deflection threw him, but DJ said his own name and extended his hand. Alex didn’t take it.

“Friday afternoon’s the first opening I’ve got for an appraisal—most people call.”

DJ followed partway as Alex sidestepped the box, bypassing the counter to switch on the overhead lights. He pulled an appointment book from beside the register and flipped through its pages.

“Saturdays are good, Sundays better, if it’s a full estate. Can I ask who referred you?”

The box, DJ could see now, was filled with old ledgers, but he remained undeterred. “It’s not an estate, actually.”

The look Alex gave him was one of strained patience. “No?”

“Your sister—Andrea—I stopped in here last week.” Once again, he extended his hand, this time toward the counter display. “I bought the marbled glass egg?”

“Well, whatever you bought, she should’ve told you all sales are final.”

“No—I love the egg. A present,” he said, fumbling on, “for my niece. She loved the egg.” DJ felt his dignity slipping farther and farther away, wished he could stop saying egg.

“My sister is well-intentioned. But she’s a little flighty.” Alex set the appointment book back in its spot. “Was there something else I can help you with?”

“I have a collection of records,” he started to say, but Alex cut him off.

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