The Suite Spot (Beck Sisters #2)(26)

“What’s the vibe you’re going for?”

“Kind of like … lake house.” I laugh when she recoils, her nostrils flaring. “I didn’t mean it that way. I’m not looking for themed stuff. No oars. No anchors. No cutesy lake house sayings. I want things that are nostalgic, interesting, and fun.”

“Now those are words I understand.”

“Oh, and I need crystal chandeliers.”

She points up. Overhead are dozens of hanging light fixtures, among them five crystal chandeliers. “How many do you want?”

“I’ll take them all.”

“I’m Vivian, by the way,” she says, leading me deeper into the shop.

“I’m Rachel.”

There are several unassembled beds leaning against the back wall. Some look thrift shop old and are not quite what I’m looking for, but I find a cream-colored iron frame tucked behind a wooden cannonball bed.

“How big is this one?” I ask, touching the iron bed.

“Looks like a double, but we can measure to be sure.”

She digs into a pocket on her leather tool belt and pulls out a measuring tape. Together we verify the size, and I steal a peek at the price tag. It’s marked $550. I’m no expert on antiques, but I’d rather pay that amount for a vintage bed than the same amount for a modern replica with lesser quality, even if it has a few chips in the paint.

“It’s going to need to be refinished,” I say. “Would you take four hundred dollars?”

“I’d settle at four hundred and fifty dollars.”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

While Vivian puts a sold sign on the bed and brings out a ladder from the back room to take down the chandeliers, I meander through the store, past an old hutch stacked with Fiestaware and bins filled with vinyl records. None of the furniture jumps out at me, but on a mid-century end table I spy a lamp with a base shaped like three fish, one atop another. It straddles a fine line between vintage and kitsch, making it perfect. On another table, there’s a lamp from around the same era, with an iridescent green base shaped like tropical flowers and topped with a tiered lampshade. I take both to the cash register.

“Just got that green lamp in last week,” Vivian says from the top of the ladder. “I’ve been debating whether I want to keep it.”

“If you want it—”

“Nope,” she interrupts, unhooking one of the chandeliers from the ceiling. “If I kept every piece I loved, I’d go out of business. I tend to trust these decisions to fate. If someone buys it, it’s not meant to be mine.”

“Good.” I walk over to the ladder and reach up to take the light fixture. “Because I want that lamp.”

The front door jingles and a blond woman steps inside carrying a couple of to-go coffee cups and a waxed paper bag bearing a doughnut logo. Vivian’s face visibly softens as they smile at each other, making me think they’re in love—or at least want to be.

“Perfect timing, babe,” Vivian says. “I need help getting the crystal chandeliers down. Rachel, this is my girlfriend and business partner, Lucy.”

“Hi, Lucy. Nice to meet you,” I say. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“You just keep shopping.” Vivian leans down to kiss Lucy. “Rachel will be paying our shop rent and electricity this month.”

I laugh. “Do you have any old board games?”

“We try to stay away from those because they don’t sell unless they’re in mint condition,” Lucy says. “Are you thinking about using game boards as art?”

“Yep.”

“Go on Etsy. Someone there can paint and age a Parcheesi board to look like it’s a century old for a fraction of what you’d pay for vintage.”

As Lucy and Vivian take down the rest of the chandeliers, I rummage through a bin of old paintings. There are a couple of pastoral scenes, some seascapes, a few flowers in vases, but the one that grabs my attention is a quirky painting of a gathering of bears dancing in the woods in the moonlight. It’s whimsical, but not like something meant for a child’s room.

“What’s the backstory on this painting?” I ask.

“It’s a print I picked up on half-off Wednesday at a thrift store in Sandusky because I liked the frame,” Vivian says. “The original was done by William Holbrook Beard, an Ohio artist who was known for putting animals in humanlike situations. If you like his style, you can easily order prints of his other work online.”

I’m not sure how Mason will feel about the bear painting, but I like that it doesn’t take itself seriously and the frame is ornately carved and painted gold. I decide to buy it. If Mason doesn’t like it, I can always hang it in my bedroom.

Next, I find a pair of wooden badminton racquets and an old croquet set. I don’t know how to play either game, but when I ask Lucy for her opinion about buying them, she nods vigorously.

“My mom and her cousins used to play badminton every summer. Back in the day, everyone had a net,” she says. “I feel like badminton and croquet have been replaced by cornhole, but the nostalgia factor is high.”

An hour later—after the breakables have been secured in Bubble Wrap and I’m full of guilt for spending so much money—we load my purchases into the back of the truck. I hand Vivian one of my brand-new business cards. “If you get any more chandeliers or anything else I might like, please let me know.”