Cradle Creek

Chapter 27, Toys in the Attic

Stepping through the rubble of his home and his shop, Pete couldn't help but let the depression rear her angry head. With every step between the charred walls, something snapped, a cloud of ash was launched, or the remains of something disintegrated with the breeze of his movement.

It was gone— everything.

All the pictures of her, all the inventory, everything.

Can I really pick up the pieces... again?

From over his shoulder, someone walked through where the glass door once stood. As the stranger took steps, boards cracked underneath the stranger as he walked. Taking no care to watch his step, Pete started to say something, but what was the point? It was all trash. The man was balding and wore a white collared shirt with the insurance company emblem over his right chest. His pants were too tight and his belt too stretched to hold them up under his protruding belly, but he had a smile on his face and seemed affable enough as he walked around the store, assessing.Contemplating.

The insurance adjuster, he would learn, was here to assess the damage and calculate a price that would determine the worth of Pete's store, his home, his livelihood, and his life. All those little things that string together to make up a small income for Pete, this squatty man was going to sum it up into a check.

"I'm going to be here a few days. I already spoke to the hardware store and they're delivering some plywood. If it's good with you, I'll help you hang it over the front until we can replace the glass."

Pete didn't have much to say, other than a confounded 'thanks.'

Watching the man work, he set up a table in the front corner of the charred remains to hold his equipment. Taking pictures, documenting loss, and making notes, the adjuster worked closely with Pete over the next few days to figure out what he was owed and how he would recover.

Pete realized that there was really not much he could do until the man was finished. For three days, the insurance adjuster asked Pete questions about the building, the location of walls, the inventory he kept, if he had any ledgers that were accessible, and other erroneous questions. Pete did his best to answer him, thankful for the upgrade he made recently with a cloud or something that Nick helped him do. All of his inventory was on a website that he could access.

"You lived here too, right?" the man asked towards the end of the third day.

"Yessir. It was small, but it worked for me. I don't have any family. This is," he gestured around the blackened space, "This was all I had."

The man did not acknowledge anything, only making notes in his notebook and touching keys on his iPad.

"The report said that there was bad wiring that shorted, right?" he asked.

Pete nodded, unsure where this was going, but wholly aware that the moment of truth was ahead of him. Maybe he could buy a smaller store in a bigger town. Sullivan's Rest had been home his whole life, but there were other towns. A fresh start might not be a bad thing. Again.

The man pressed a button on his iPad and the portable printer started whirring. Pages and pages zipped out of the little black bar. He collected and stapled them together before passing the packet to Pete.

"We'll go over this in just a moment, but let me go ahead and write the check before I forget," he said.

Pete flipped through the paperwork, completely unsure how to read what was in his hand. On the second to last page, he saw a seven digit number with a dollar sign in front of it. Pete's eyes grew to saucers and he was, well, he was speechless. This would definitely help him get back on his feet again. He could kiss that insurance agent who convinced him to add all those riders to his business policy. Absolutely kiss him. His hands were trembling when the adjuster gave him the check.

"You're going to be okay, Pete," he said as he was leaving.

—

While the adjuster worked with Pete, Mama watched and an idea started to form. Working behind the scenes, Mama called everyone in town, some artsy friends, and a few out-of-town folks.

After the adjustor left, leaving Pete a substantial check, Pete went over to Nick's for dinner as he no longer had a kitchen.

"Everything work out?" Nick asked. It was quiet in the restaurant, the dinner crowd would not be in for another hour.

"As well as it can," Pete said, "I don't do it because I make a million dollars, but I loved what I did, it was like an homage to her, you know? And now... well, I have to start over. How does that happen? I've got to get a contractor over to start working on my apartment around back before I can even think about the store."

"Maybe," Nick shrugged and said, "Maybe not."

Pete gave him a look and Nick shrugged again. "Ya never know what could happen."

"What did you do?" Pete asked him.

"Me? Nothing. I didn't do a damn thing," Nick paused, "But, Mama. Well, Mama might've done something." Nick said nodding his head towards the door.

Pete stood up from the bar, walking outside. There was a light on in one the empty building across the street. Except, it wasn't empty. Hanging above the glass door was his sign, Pete's Antiques, Oddities and Collectible for the Criminally Sane and Sanity Driven Criminals. How did that get there? Through the windows he could see what felt like the whole town standing around furniture and shelves full of odds and ends. On the far wall was a long counter, with floor to ceiling shelves. Over half of them were empty, but the rest were full of old books and vinyl records.

As Pete opened the door, everyone cheered for him. Someone in the back started singing, "For he's a Jolly Good Fellow."

Mama came to the front of the crowd, bracelets jingling she took his arm in hers.

"Whose is this? How did this happen?" Pete asked, bewildered at the site.

"This is for you, Pete Archer. After the fire, well, I called a few friends who were downsizing and they were just going to give this stuff away so I said, 'Why not give it to Pete?' And they did!"

"And the building?" he asked.

"Doc bought this building years ago for Julia, but it was too big for what she needed. He never got around to selling it before he got sick. It's just been collecting dust and I figured we need to put it to some use."

"I have... I have my insurance money," he started.

"You do. And it's yours. But, we take care of our own," Mama said patting his arm. "Now come on, I made supper."

Men were clapping Pete on the back, while women were looking at antique jewelry pieces that were on display in a glass cabinet by the cash register. Music played from an old radio in the back and food was served on old wooden tables that were for sale.

"This is incredible," Pete said to Mama towards the end of the evening. "I don't know how I can repay you for this kindness," he said.

Mama smiled, her bangles creating small chimes as she moved alerting the angels and demons of her presence. "Shug-ah, you are our family. We need you in this town as much as you need us. Thank you for being here. I know it was hard to come home and stay here, but you bring light to this corner of the map."

He pursed his lips, leaned over and kissed the older woman's soft cheek, "Thank you," he said, "She was a good woman, wasn't she?"

"She absolutely was."