Page 19 of In This Moment

Once back in town, Rebecca stopped at the small hardware store to copy the key for her and Dorothy, and buy a few hooks, nails, and a hammer.

There was a thrift shop next door she hadn’t been to since she’d been in college. Why not? She might find something useful.

Shrugging, she set the hardware store bag in her car and popped into Twice But Nice thrift shop. The owner, an elder woman Rebecca recognized, but couldn’t recall her name, was busy at the register, so Rebecca just waved.

The scents of dust and time immediately hit her as she took in shelves of mismatched items. A lot seemed like junk, but to each their own. They did have quite a few eight-by-ten photo frames that would serve to house the Gazette’s prints they would try to sell. She kept going, around the other side of the second aisle, and there was an old typewriter. Teal in color with pop keys. It was awesome.

“That doesn’t work, dear.”

“Oh.” Rebecca whirled toward the owner. The woman only came to Rebecca’s shoulders, but she’d managed to sneak up on her. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Sorry for the startle. I’ve had that typewriter here for years. No one uses them anymore. It’s all about phones and computers and gadgets. Crying shame, if you ask me. Listen to me, carrying on. Anywho, it doesn’t work.”

Rebecca glanced at the typewriter again. It was a lovely old piece, and she didn’t need it to function for what she had planned. The price sticker said five bucks.

“Sold.”

The owner tilted her head, short white strands not shifting the slightest. “You certain, dear?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’d also like to take a lot of those photo frames off your hands.”

“Alrighty.”

Rebecca brought the typewriter to the counter, then went back for an armful of the frames. They were only a dollar and they’d be very useful.

The owner rang up the purchases and offered Rebecca a box. “Thank you, kindly. Have a blessed day. Please come back soon.”

“I certainly will.” She turned to leave. “Oh.” She whirled around. “Is that pet shop still over by the café’?”

“Bark & Beyond? Yessiree. Clive’s grandson runs the place now.”

“Thank you again.”

Rebecca put the thrift shop box in her car and headed down Main, turning onto a side street and parking. Uncommon Comics had odd hours since most of their sales were online, but she’d caught them while open. She didn’t know the clerk and he didn’t appear interested in her. She bought six plain white comic boxes, and two packs each of what they called bags and boards. Essentially, white carboard inserts for support and sleeves for the pages.

From there, she met Forest at the library, helped him get the magazine racks in the truck, and thanked him profusely.

The pet store was closed by the time she got back that way, which was disappointing, but she’d pop in tomorrow morning before going to the office. The little party supply store next door was still open for another thirty minutes, however, so she stopped to buy tablecloths in a navy color that would closely match the wingback chairs.

Satisfied, and giddy, she drove back to the Gazette, parking in the alley behind the building. It had been so very long since she’d had purpose or felt like she’d been useful that she almost didn’t recognize the bubbles in her belly. The Gazette had been a noteworthy addition to Vallantine since long before she’d been born. She’d watched its decline slowly through the years, and it had broken her heart. Utilizing newsroom space for a shop and bringing alive its history would hopefully return the newspaper to its former glory, and get townsfolk interested again. That, and the changes to the print itself.

Between remodeling the library, a dream of hers, and getting onboard at the Gazette, her mind was whirling with possibilities. Mostly, if she were being honest with herself, it was the fact she was no longer invisible that had hope blooming in her chest. For years, she’d been an unrecognizable face among the fray. Idle. Stagnant. Just one woman in a city of thousands. Vallantine may not be where she’d envisioned herself as a girl, but she’d adapt. There was more than one way to leave an imprint on the world.

Forest and Graham had brought in the magazine racks by the time she got inside. She found them eating pizza in Graham’s office, feet kicked up on the desk.

At the close of the back door, a dog lying by Graham’s shelf jumped to attention, rushing to examine Rebecca. She bent to pet his soft fur, talking gibberish. He was quite cute. Adoring, trusting eyes. Brown, black, and white, he looked like a mixed breed.

“Aren’t you a sweetheart? What’s your name?”

“Twain.” Graham set his feet on the floor, nudging a pizza box toward the edge of the desk. “Have a slice.”

“Great name.” Cheesy Italian goodness wafted from the box, and yeah. She was starving. “Thanks.” Straightening, she took a slice of pepperoni. My, how she’d missed Pizza My Heart. She spoke around her food. “I got stuff in the car when we’re done eating.”

Graham’s brows rose. “What did you get?”

Digging in her purse, she gave him the receipts, letting him know the purchases. “I bought this kickass old typewriter for the front window display.”

“Never would’ve thought of that,” he mumbled, frowning at the receipts. “This can’t be right. You spent under a hundred bucks?”

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