Read Online Driving With the Top Down by Beth Harbison - Free Book Online Page B

described in the book, it was a small space with linoleum floors that had once been a foreign legion hall. It smelled like glue and mildew and something else Colleen couldn’t quite put her finger on, but which made her want to run away. Light filtered dimly through old plate-glass windows, illuminating more dust in the air than merchandise for sale.
    It had a lot of doorknobs.
    Not interesting doorknobs, by the way, just the sort of handles you’d see in a 1970s elementary school or other public building on a budget.
    “Is this the kind of thing you’re on this trip to look for?” Tamara asked, clearly trying to be tactful.
    “No. This isn’t the kind of thing anyone is looking for. Except maybe someone looking for a quick fix in a cheap rental property.” Who else would buy any of this crap? How did this place even stay in business? Was it just a tax loss for someone?
    Tamara looked relieved. “I thought this was a little strange.”
    “Disappointing.” It was.
    “I’ll say.”
    Colleen looked around and sighed. There was nothing of any interest whatsoever here. Nothing she’d even take for free.
    “Do you need help?” a voice asked from only a few yards away.
    Startled, Colleen jerked her head in the direction of the query and saw a gray woman—gray hair, gray complexion, even a gray tattered sweater—standing in the dingy light. It was like stepping into a dreary black-and-white movie and feeling your own color drain. Dorothy coming back from Oz.
    “No,” Colleen said quickly. She always felt a sense of guilt at not being interested in someone’s merchandise, but she’d learned not to waste too much time pretending. “No, thank you.” She ushered Tamara out.
    The rain had stopped and they were able to roll the windows down and enjoy the warm night air. This added new elements to the drive—more fun and, mercifully, more noise.
    “So what is it you are looking for?” Tamara asked.
    “Oh, I don’t know. Anything interesting. Unique. Cheap. Things I can paint and polish and fix up and sell in the shop.”
    “Like what?”
    “Uh, well, last year I found an old bicycle and took the chain, spokes, and pedals off to make a candelabra.”
    “That sounds … weird.” Tamara looked skeptical. “I can’t picture that.”
    “It was cooler than it sounds. I also found some old colored glass bottles and drilled holes in them so I could put lights in and make them pretty little night-lights.”
    “Hm.”
    “Again, cooler than it sounds.”
    “And people buy that kind of thing?”
    “They sure do.”
    “Who?”
    “Mostly women with money who can buy pretty much anything they want, so they want something unique that no one else can buy.” She wanted to add, But don’t get any ideas about turning a plate upside down and calling it a cake stand, because it’s not as stupid and easy as it sounds, but a comment like that would have been insulting to both of them.
    “So you don’t really have a thrift shop exactly.”
    No doubt that was how Chris had described it. “No,” she said. “It’s a cross between a boutique and an antique store, and people consign their own things there as well.”
    “That’s cool. I wish I could make stuff and sell it.”
    “You could. It just takes some imagination. And work. And luck.” Colleen smiled. “You’re on the right trip, I guess.”
    “Better than some I’ve had,” Tamara said cryptically, and Colleen didn’t want to ask for an explanation, for fear of getting one she didn’t like. “So this is kind of like that show on Channel 26?”
    Channel 26 was PBS, and Colleen knew exactly what she meant. “I’d love to find an Antiques Roadshow– worthy find. I’m always looking for that needle in a haystack, but people have gotten a lot more savvy than they used to be. No one ever finds an unseen copy of the Declaration of Independence behind an acrylic painting of kittens.”
    “Like the copy where John Hancock spelled his name wrong in