The pale-shell shade of the leather and smooth grain of the luggage made it look like a giant makeup compact. “Hm.” Inside the box was another hatbox, this one a more daring magenta. Pia let out a laugh as she found yet another, smaller hatbox within, this one a light pink with magenta polka dots, marrying the colors of the two larger pieces encasing them.
“They’re like girly luggage Russian nesting dolls.” I blurted out my assessment as Pia opened the last hatbox.
“Nada.” Pia’s expectant look deflated as she patted the inside of the hatbox.
“The set is gorgeous, though,” Bev cooed. “I would love to purchase this, too! All cleaned up, these three hatboxes would make a darling addition to my wedding trousseau.”
I knew Bev and Jesse were headed to Williamsburg, Virginia, with Bev’s teenage son, Preston, for her honeymoon.
June blushed again. “They’re all yours. But please don’t pick them up until tomorrow, when I’ve had a chance to scrub off all of the accumulated grime.” She made to swipe a finger through the dust adorning the bright luggage, then stopped herself at the last second. She couldn’t suppress a shudder, though. I realized that though the store was chockablock full of antiques, everything was meticulously polished and pristine with nary a speck of dust anywhere. Well, until Pia had brought up the luggage.
“Claudia promised me she’d get the basement under control.” June rolled her eyes and gestured below her. “My mom doesn’t keep the most meticulous records. The upstairs of the Antique Emporium is my domain. I like to think of this floor as carefully ordered chaos. But Claudia’s basement? Pfft.”June shook her head. “That’s true chaos.”
A small frown stole over Pia’s pretty face. She had a chameleon look, sometimes recalling the sharper features of her sister, Tabitha. At other angles, she favored her mother’s slightly softer features. “Grandma Claudia finds the neatest stuff, though, Mom. She has the best eye of the three of us. You can’t argue with that.”
June seemed to melt at the defense of her mother given by her daughter. “Fair enough, sweetie. The three of us make a great team.”
I beamed at her admission. It was fun to imagine three generations of women working together in this store. Though I’d never set eyes on Pia until this very day. I knew she’d been away at college in Washington, D.C.
“Hold up.” Pia bit her lower lip as she patted the inside of the last hatbox. “Do you feel something?” Her slim fingers hovered over a slight split in the top panel of the luggage. There seemed to be a barely perceptible rent in the now faded, but once-lurid red satin lining the hatbox.
“Ooh, let me see.” Bev ran her plump and capable fingers over the torn fabric. “I can fix this right up. But I think I know what you mean, Pia. Maybe there’s something in there?”
The nested hatboxes seemed to contain even more surprises.
“This is like a little treasure hunt.” Pia ran her hands over the interior of the hatbox once more, her eyes lighting up. Bev took her turn, trying to smoosh her rather plump fingers into the tiny slit in the fabric. She gave up a moment later. “Mallory, can you get in there? I don’t want to tear the fabric any more.”
I slid my ring and pinky fingers into the tear in the faded satin.
Pay dirt.
My fingers connected with some kind of soft fabric, smooshed down at the bottom of the hatbox’s top panel. I felt a thrill of excitement ripple through me, heralding what seemed like a portentous occasion.
Don’t be silly.
“What is it?” The three other women crowded around me as I worked on extricating what felt like a soft bundle of flattened fabric. Even baby Miri looked mildly curious as she gummed her silicone rattle.
“I almost have it.” In a final whoosh I pulled out a swath of stunning and ancient-looking lace. The fabric kept coming and coming, much like a silk tie produced by a magician performing a trick.
“It’s just gorgeous.” Bev stood back reverently as I spread the swath of antique lace out on a second, pristinely clean table. “It’s the perfect length to serve as a long bridal veil.” Bev appeared just as smitten with the fabric as I was.
“Is this for sale?” I heard the catch in my voice as I stated my query. The pretty sundress was long forgotten now that I was smoothing out this lovely and intricate piece of lace.
“Yes!” Pia gave her blessing and promptly gave way to a sneezing fit. “I mean, is that okay, Mom?”
June handed her daughter a tissue and paused for a second as she turned her keen eyes on the runner of lace. “Of course, honey.”
“It’s a bit aged,” Bev mused as she traced a delicate star pattern around the edge of the fabric. The pretty lace was largely intact, with only a few snags in the delicate pattern. But the fabric had mellowed over who knew how many years into a deep champagne color. “Nothing a little OxiClean won’t gussy up!”
“No!” This time both June and Pia yelped at the same time. Baby Miri gave a little jump in her carrier.
“It’s too delicate for that,” June clarified, a bit more gently.
“I guess we could take it to a fabric restorer,” I chimed in. I knew such a person existed since I’d had some work done on the turn-of-the-century tapestries in my inherited mansion.
“We?” Bev turned to me with a hopeful gleam in her eyes.
“Of course! I can see how much you love it, too.” I cocked my head and regarded the veil. “Is this something you’d want to wear on your big day? You could wear it in July, and I could wear it in the fall. It’s even long enough to ask the fabric restorer about dividing it in half.” Bev nodded enthusiastically at my ideas. But I caught June’s wince at my suggestion to divvy up the lace into two pieces.
June recovered nicely. “I’d be honored if you two ladies wore this veil at your weddings.” She pivoted and reached an arm around Pia, who had succeeded in brushing much of the dust from her sleeves and hair. “My Pia knows a thing or two about weddings.”
Pia blushed and wriggled out from under her mother’s embrace. “That was my part-time job in D.C., but this summer is dedicated to helping you make sense of all the inventory Grandma Claudia has stashed in the basement. Until I get a full-time job, that is.” She smiled. “Hopefully back in D.C.”
“You have event-planning experience?” My spidey senses perked up. My sister, Rachel, and I were looking for a new assistant to help us with our ever-burgeoning slate of weddings, parties, and events. We were thrilled to expand our business, but we’d reached the point of turning away new gigs because we didn’t have enough hands on deck.
“Just a bit. I’ve assisted eight weddings, a few retirements, and planned two baby showers on my own.” Pia grew less bashful as she described the work she’d done as an assistant in D.C. on the weekends.
“She even has a digital portfolio of her work,”June gushed. She dashed behind the front counter rife with glittering estate jewelry pieces and emerged triumphant with a slim tablet. “Look!”
Pia narrowed her eyes at her mother, then burst out laughing. “I see what you’re doing,
