Dragonfly

Chapter 24

Ms. LaSalle was dressed in a filmy, knee-length sundress, and when I arrived at her store, she was carrying a huge cardboard box from the front porch inside. Several large boxes along with an assortment of smaller ones were stacked around the front entrance, which was decorated with whimsical stained-glass ornaments and wind chimes. Her long hair swished down her back as she disappeared around the corner. Everything about her and her space was breezy and beautiful. A white boardwalk led to the entrance, and I parked the car and got out just in time for her to reemerge and grab another large box.

"Can I help you?" I asked, trotting up the walk.

"Anna," she smiled. "Sure, you're just in time for Christmas delivery. It's the big one. Half the time I can't even remember what I've ordered, so lots of surprises." She bent her knees, dropping into a squat as she heaved up a huge box. "Just carry the smaller ones. I don't want you getting hurt."

I was glad I'd worn pants and a tee. We would get hot carrying boxes, even in November. "But you're carrying the big ones."

"I've got more practice. Here." She nodded toward a small one. "I think that has a new shipment of jewelry in it."

I followed her inside the store, which was divided in half. One side displayed paintings, pottery, and all sorts of art, including a nice selection of Julian's work. The other side was woven jewelry, clothes, and souvenirs ranging from the standard sea shells to stained-glass windows and items from local collectors.

"I love your store," I said, placing the small box on the counter.

"Thanks!" She lowered her box behind it. "I haven't seen you around lately. What's going on?"

"Just school, work. You know. Stuff like that."

"You have a job?" she asked.

"Well, it's kind of part-job, part-school, I guess. I'm hoping to get a journalism scholarship, so I'm doing an internship at the paper in Fairview."

She stopped and looked at me for a second. "With Nancy Riggs?"

"Yeah." I picked up a small ring that was lying on the counter. She picked up a box cutter.

"Oh, look at this," she said pulling out a piece of Raku pottery.

"Who did that?" I asked.

"I have a friend who makes these. Isn't it beautiful?"

"Yeah, it is." I twirled the ring in my fingers. It was glass that had been molded and shaped into a ring and it had streaks of color melted through the band. "I really like this."

"That came from the Hot Shop in East End Beach. The glass-blowing studio? They make some really pretty pieces over there. Have you been?"

"No." I waited, trying to decide how to broach the subject. "Julian never told me you were an artist."

"Were is the key word there," she smiled.

"But you still keep up with your artist friends."

"Well, if I can sell their pieces, I try to, but that's all really. This Raku pottery is flying off the shelves, and I know a guy who's been making these since we were in art school." She laughed quietly. "I was hopeless at Raku pottery."

"Really? Why?"

"I kept breaking my pots. See, you work with very high heat, and they shatter so easily. I was much better with the brush."

"Mom said they have some of your paintings in the old Magnolia Hotel. I haven't seen them, but I heard you were very good."

"I liked to paint when I was younger. It was sort of my escape." She slid a piece of her long, dark hair behind her shoulder. "Or my protection."