Timeless

CHAPTER 41

“T here are about five that I remember being able to make out the actual images,” Quinn said as she unlocked her door.

“Are you open yet?” the woman from the previous night asked, approaching from Abby’s right side.

“Weren’t you about to call the cops on us last night?”

“I was merely watching over your shop. You should be grateful.”

“Are you going to buy something?” Quinn asked.

“I might. I might not. It depends on your selection.”

“Babe, just let her in already,” Abby said with a little laugh.

“Fine.” Quinn gave the woman a mock-glare and pushed open the door. “Go for it. We’re going to be working in the back, so if you need me, just yell.”

“I will do no such thing. Do you have a bell to ring?”

“No,” Quinn replied and tugged on Abby’s hand. “Can you turn the sign from closed to open?”

“You know, back when my uncle owned this shop, he treated it with care.”

Quinn stopped moving then. Abby had been about to grab the box of photos that were still sitting on the table by the door, but she stopped, too, and they both turned to face the woman.

“Your uncle owned this shop?”

“Yes. You should know that. You bought it from him,” the woman replied as if Quinn should know better.

“Your uncle was Mr. Vincent?” Quinn asked.

“Yes, Steven Vincent. He turned this building into an antiques and collectibles shop back in 1975, which is why it says, ‘Established in 1975,’ above the door. You , certainly, didn’t do that now, did you?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Did he paint the window?” Abby asked.

“Abs…” Quinn said gently.

“Yes, he did. I helped him, actually,” the woman replied proudly.

“You helped him?” Quinn asked.

“I was about thirteen then, I think. He’d just bought the shop, even though my mother’s family didn’t want him to. He was supposed to take over the family’s butcher shop. That’s how my father and mother met. He was a farmer. She’d been in the shop one day when he was dropping off… well, let’s just say meat because, even though I worked that farm, I still liked to give the animals names, so I was terrible at those things. Anyway, they met, got married, and had me and then, my younger sister. My uncle was my mother’s brother. He didn’t want the butcher shop, so even back then, she ended up taking it over, and my uncle bought this place. He later sold it to you, and since his passing, I’ve kept an eye on it whenever I’m in town. I helped paint the window, after all. My mother painted our height charts back there on the wall with the window, my sister’s and I, so this place is important to me.”

“It’s important to me , too,” Quinn replied. “We were just talking about maybe painting the window again to help bring in more customers.”

“Yes, you should do that. It would help. We used red and brown paint, if I remember correctly, which I do, of course. I’d had chocolate ice cream that day before I ran over to help him paint, and he said the brown paint would match the chocolate I’d gotten on my dress if I got any on me.”

“Ice cream?” Abby uttered and took a step back as if she might fall over.

“Are you okay?” Quinn asked and held on to her. “Babe?”

“You two are a couple?” the woman asked.

“What was your father’s name?” Abby asked.

“My father? Why?”

“Please,” Abby said .

Quinn didn’t take her eyes off her, and it was only because of that that she understood it.

“His name was John Paul, but he went by Paul. Why? My uncle was the one who owned the shop.”

“Your father was…” Quinn faded out.

She looked at the woman closely for the first time and noticed that she had Deb’s eyes; the eyes from the photos she’d seen of Deb, anyway.

“Paul Stevens. He owned a farm not that far from here. You couldn’t have known him. He died back in 2003. You two look like you weren’t even born then.”

“We were. But no, we didn’t know him,” Quinn replied. “You said you were visiting?”

“The old farmhouse is up for sale. My sister and I got it after our mother passed last year. She was a little younger than my father and definitely healthier. He loved all the food that was bad for him.” She chuckled, seemingly at a memory. “We were going to keep it, but it’s too much trouble, so we came to take care of a few things with the realtor and see if we can get it sold sooner rather than later. I’m a teacher, but I’m about to retire, and I’d like to take my share and do some traveling with my husband.”

“Do you have any children?” Abby asked her.

“I have grand children, dear.” She chuckled. “I’m sixty-three years old. I have a daughter and two sons. They all have kids, too. I’m a grandma of six. Why? Would you like to see pictures?”

“Yes, actually, we would,” Abby said.

“Is something wrong with her? She looks like she’s seen a ghost.”

“Something like that,” Quinn replied. “Do you have any photos on you?”

“Yes, on my phone. I’m not so old that I have a photo album in my purse.” She pulled her phone out of her bag. “I might have a few with my uncle in them.”

“That’s all right. Do you have any with your immediate family? Your father, maybe?” Abby asked .

“You two are strange, but you’re lucky. I’m killing time until I meet my sister for lunch.” She opened her photos and seemed to search before she passed her phone to Quinn. “My oldest grandson put a whole folder on there for me for Christmas last year. You can look through that one.”

“Thank you. Abs, do you want to sit down?”

“I’m okay,” Abby replied.

Quinn took in the first photo. It was of the woman in front of them and her six grandkids; four girls and two boys. Quinn’s eyes welled with tears then. Those were Harriet and Deb’s great-great-grandchildren. Abby rested her head on Quinn’s shoulder and looked along with her. Quinn flipped to the next photo.

“It’s…” Abby whispered.

It was a photo of Paul, likely in his late forties or maybe even early fifties, with a woman, who, Quinn guessed, was his wife, and his two daughters, who probably would’ve been in their twenties or early thirties then.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been rude. I didn’t get your name. I’m Quinn, in case your uncle didn’t tell you mine. And this is my girlfriend, Abby.”

“Nice to meet you. My name is Deborah. And that’s me with my family. My younger sister.” She pointed to the other woman in the photo.

“What’s her name?”

“Harriet,” Deborah replied. “I was named after my grandmother. And my sister was named after her very best friend in the world. They raised my dad after his father died in the war. They died not long after that in what was the biggest storm around here in decades. They were protecting him, saved him from it, so he named us after them.”

“Best friend?” Quinn asked.

“I imagine they were best friends in the same way that you two are best friends,” Deborah said with a wink. “But those were different times, weren’t they?”

“You–”

“He never said anything, but my sister and I picked up on a few things. We never met them, of course, but he spoke so highly of both of them, and some of the things he did say led us to believe a few things.”

“That they loved each other,” Abby said.

“I suppose they did, yes. Very much, from what he told us. Anyway, that’s him with my mom, me, and Harry. That’s what I call her because she hates her name.”

“Harriet Louise is a mouthful,” Quinn said with a little laugh.

“How did you know her middle name?” Deborah asked.

“Uh… I remember now. Your uncle… told me about you two. You’re Deborah Mary, right?”

The woman squinted at them and said, “Yes, I am. You remember all that?”

“I do. Great memory.” Quinn tapped her temple before taking Abby’s hand again.

“Do you have any photos of the two of them?” Abby asked. “Your namesake and your sister’s?”

“Not on my phone, no. I don’t even know that my father had all that many. They weren’t well off people, and cameras were expensive back then.”

“Right. Of course.”

“Why?”

“We… both like old photos, is all,” Abby lied. “Quinn sells them sometimes, but we really just like looking at them and thinking about the history.”

“Right. Well, this has been interesting, to say the least, but I think I should be going now. I have to meet my sister soon.”

“How long are you in town? Maybe you can stop by again before you leave,” Quinn said.

“We’ll be leaving tomorrow. We’ve got a meeting this afternoon, and I have a flight tomorrow morning, so Harry will take me to the airport and head home from there. She lives a few hours from here, but I’m in New York City.”

“New York?”

“Brooklyn. We moved there for my husband’s job about a decade ago, but when I retire in a couple of years, we’ll move back near here to be closer to the kids.”

“And finally, do that traveling?” Quinn guessed.

“That’s right. There’s a cruise to the Caribbean with my name on it.” Deborah smiled and took her phone back from Quinn. “Now, you’ll take care of my uncle’s shop, won’t you?”

“I will,” Quinn assured as she moved her arm around Abby’s shoulders.

“ We will,” Abby added.

Deborah squinted at them again and said, “I believe you both. I didn’t recognize you last night. I don’t see the best at night, and I never met you before he sold this place, but I remember your picture from the website you made for this place now. I thought he was crazy for selling an antique shop to a twenty-something, but you’ve taken care of the old girl.” She looked around the shop. “Keep doing that for me, will you? For him?”

“For all of them,” Quinn said, not knowing if Deborah understood what she was getting at or not.

Deborah nodded before she left the shop, and Quinn watched her walk down the sidewalk in the direction of the diner. Then, she pulled Abby in closer, and Abby moved into her arms entirely, pulling Quinn in for a deep hug.

“She’s our granddaughter,” Abby said softly against her neck. “She looks like Paul, doesn’t she?”

“A little, yeah. But she has Deb’s eyes. Harriet does, too.”

“I can’t believe we just met our granddaughter,” Abby said with a little laugh. “So surreal.”

“Considering we’re not even thirty yet, I’d say so, yes.”

Abby laughed against her body, and Quinn rubbed her back.

“Can we check the wall?”

“What wall?” Quinn asked.

“Where she said they drew their height charts.”

“Oh, yeah. I put boxes against that wall. I’d just need to move them. I never even noticed it before. ”

“I’ll bring the pictures,” Abby said.

Quinn turned the sign to open because she still needed to make a living and figured that Abby could look without her if she got any customers. They hurried to the back of the shop and began moving boxes until the left side of the wall was revealed. In very, very faint letters, she could just make out the names with some of the little marks on the wall indicating how tall they were.

“Harriet is here,” Abby said and pointed. “Age nine.”

“And here’s Deborah at thirteen. I can just imagine the woman we just met as a teenager, being told that her parents or her uncle want to mark her height on this wall. She was probably an obstinate one.” Quinn chuckled. “And Davey and Tommy must have been Vincent’s kids.” She pointed to two other marks, both a little taller than the girls’ they were next to.

“Babe?”

“Yeah?”

“Look up.”

Quinn looked up and followed where Abby’s finger was pointing.

“Sarah must have been his wife’s name,” Abby noted. “She’s here. Vincent is here. Next to him is Nadine. Maybe his wife?” She pointed to the marks that were side by side. “And Paul was the tallest. They measured everyone.”

Quinn saw Abby staring up at Paul’s name. Then, her fingertips grazed it.

“He might have written this.”

“He’s the tallest, so stands to reason,” Quinn replied and moved behind her girlfriend, wrapping her arms around her middle.

“He was here. The girls were here.”

“Deb and Harriet live on in more ways than one, don’t they?” she asked and kissed Abby’s neck.

“Yes, they do,” Abby said and leaned back into Quinn’s body. “I think they all do.”

Quinn breathed her in, and for the first time, she didn’t smell honeysuckle. It was strange at first, but then, it hit her. She’d seen it on the shelf in Abby’s shower; her shampoo and conditioner matching set, which smelled like coconut, and that was what Abby smelled like now.

“Why are you smelling me?” Abby laughed, shaking Quinn’s body.

“Because you smell like you.”

“Let me guess… A certain flower?”

“No. You, Abs. Coconut.”

“My shampoo?”

“And vanilla, I think,” she added.

“My body wash has vanilla in it.”

“That’s what I smell. You. I like it.” She breathed Abby in again.

When the bell over the door clanged, Quinn closed her eyes, wishing that she would’ve just left the damn door locked so that she wouldn’t have to stop holding this woman in her arms like this.

“I should…”

“I know. Is it all right if I stay back here and hang out?”

“You can stay the whole day, if you want to. We can grab lunch and leave together when I close.” She kissed Abby on the cheek.

“You won’t get sick of me?” Abby asked, teasing her as Quinn turned her around in her arms.

“Um… After about six centuries, I think the odds of that happening are slim to nil.” She cupped Abby’s cheek and kissed her on the lips this time. “I’ll come back as soon as I can. Feel free to look at the photos while I’m up there.”

“Okay,” Abby replied and kissed her back quickly.

Quinn reluctantly turned and headed to the front of the shop, where she saw a couple; a man, who looked completely disinterested and staring down at his phone, and a woman, who appeared to actually want to be there.

“Hello,” Quinn greeted. “Just let me know if you need anything.”

The man didn’t look up, but the woman gave her a little smile and continued to look at the items on display.

“Honey, the game starts soon. How long are you going to be?”

“As long as I want, Grant. I told you I wanted us to spend the day together. You should’ve recorded that stupid football game.”

“I can’t record it. It’s a game. I need to watch it live. And you didn’t say anything about going antiquing. We were going to have breakfast and go home.”

“No, I never said we’d go home,” the woman replied. “I said the whole day.”

“It’s Sunday.”

“We can’t do it on Saturday because it’s college football season. Sunday is the NFL. We both work Monday through Friday. When am I supposed to get a day with my husband?”

“When it’s not football season,” he suggested.

“Let’s never be like them,” Abby whispered in her ear.

Quinn had felt her come up beside her, but she’d been engrossed in the lover’s quarrel in her shop.

“I don’t even like football, so I think we’re good,” she joked.

Abby laughed and leaned into her side.