The Cliff House (An Almost True Crime Story Book 1) by Greta Boris

Author:Greta Boris [Boris, Greta]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781957529509
Publisher: Fawkes Press
Published: 2024-08-27T00:00:00+00:00

1.4.5

The next day, Gwen and Maricela wandered through an antique mall in downtown San Juan Capistrano looking for things to dress up their listings. Gwen held up a ceramic Toreador lamp topped by a frolicking bull lampshade. “You could do a Tijuana theme.”

“Or I could shoot myself,” Maricela said. “We’re going tropical. Rosie—she’s the decorator my clients hired—said the colors should remind people they’re close to the beach. She’s really good. You should talk to her about the Laguna property.”

“We don’t have time for an interior designer. Our goal is to finish the projects Lance has already started, then downplay the house and focus attention on the views. I just need a couple of vases. Fresh flowers cover a multitude of sins.”

“I wonder what’s in here?” Maricela stood at the open door of a storage room stuffed floor to ceiling with merchandise. Chairs and tables were piled one on top of another, dimming the light from overhead bulbs.

Gwen pointed to a “sale” sign with an arrow directing buyers inside.

“Let’s check it out.” Maricela disappeared down a narrow path between mountains of furniture.

“I’ll wait here,” Gwen called after her.

“Be right back.” Her voice echoed from the doorway.

Gwen browsed the booths near the entrance until Maricela returned with two vases, one crystal, one milk glass. “What about these?”

“Perfect.”

As they moved away from the sale section, Maricela said, “Chica, what’s with you and tight places?”

“Not sure what you mean.” Gwen stopped at a section filled with dishes. She held up two bowls. “What do you think of these? You could fill them with seashells for the coffee table—kinda tropical.”

“Nice.” Maricela took them from Gwen. “But don’t change the subject.”

“I have a touch of claustrophobia, that’s all.” Gwen said.

“A touch? You wouldn’t try on that skirt at the mall because the changing room was too small.”

“It was too small. And it was dark.”

“What exactly are you afraid of?” Maricela asked.

Gwen stopped mid-aisle to look at a stained-glass lamp. It would look lovely in the window of the dining room, but then she’d have to get a table to set it on.

“Gwen.” Maricela’s voice grew sharp. “What are you afraid of?”

Gwen snapped her head toward her friend. “Bugs. Okay? I don’t like bugs.”

A small smile played around the edges of Maricela’s mouth. “Bugs? That’s it?”

“You have irrational fears. I have irrational fears.” As soon as she said the words, she regretted them. Bugs and rapists weren’t at all the same thing. She opened her mouth to apologize, but Maricela had spun on her heel and was already walking away from her.

By the time she caught up, her friend was looking at a pile of throw pillows. “These are nice.”

Gwen was relieved. Maricela was going to let her insensitivity go. The ability to forgive one another was probably why they’d been friends for so long since neither one was the most tactful person on the planet.

She was about to comment on the pillows when her phone vibrated. She pulled it out of her purse and smiled at the screen.

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