Falling to Pieces

Chapter Twenty-six

On Tuesday afternoon after work, Goldie stopped by the Gallery Connection to see if any of her pottery had sold. Elisa had been gone all day yesterday with the pastor and his wife, not coming back to Goldie’s house until nine o’clock last night. Today Elisa was out again. Goldie figured she didn’t have to rush home.

         She opened the door to the Gallery. Tomorrow Ashley Wakefield from Saks Fifth Avenue would buy a line of someone’s pottery. Goldie couldn’t wait until Ashley saw the Rose line. Hopefully she would be impressed.

At least, that was Goldie’s prayer.

With a light heart, she walked back to her booth. But then her steps slowed. Mrs. Langford, Henry, Noreen, and Carl stood in front of her booth, talking in low tones.

She stopped beside them. “What’s going on?”

They turned to her, stricken looks on their faces.

“Oh, Goldie!” Mrs. Langford shook her head. “Someone has tampered with your pottery again.”

“What?” Goldie’s heartbeat took off as she looked at the Rose line. Every plate and bowl had cracks. Some of the plates were in two pieces. “Oh no!” She picked up half a plate. “Who did this?”

Henry folded his arms. “And why? What was the motive?”

Mrs. Langford pursed her lips. “I think we know why, Henry. The buyer from New York is coming tomorrow, and someone doesn’t want Goldie’s pottery to be selected.” She gave him a stern look.

“Hey, don’t blame me!” Henry motioned to Noreen. “Maybe she’s the culprit.”

“Me?” Noreen’s eyes widened at Henry before she glanced at her husband, as if she couldn’t believe someone would accuse her of such a dastardly deed.

Carl stepped toward Henry, his hand in a fist. “My wife didn’t touch Goldie’s pottery.”

“Hey, calm down!” Mrs. Langford gave a little laugh. “We’re not blaming anyone right now.” She sighed.

Their conversation barely registered with Goldie. Her pottery was ruined! And now her chances to impress Ashley Wakefield were ruined, too. She had no time to make a new Rose line. “I might as well withdraw my pottery. I’ll clean out my booth and take everything home.”

Carl pointed to the Rose teapot, setting in the back. “It looks like the teapot’s still good. You can use it as an example of your pretty roses.”

“That’s right.” Noreen put her arm around Goldie’s shoulder. “Maybe you could set out a sampling of different lines of pottery. You have some more lines at home, don’t you?”

Wiping a tear from her eye, Goldie nodded. “I suppose that would work.” She smiled at Noreen and Carl, two people who embodied the Biblical principle to “rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep.”

This was definitely a weeping time.

“Thanks, guys. I appreciate your support.” Goldie pulled an empty box from under her display. “I’ll take the ruined pieces home.”

“Let me help you.” Noreen started placing the cracked pottery in the box.         

Mrs. Langford watched. “I just don’t understand it. We had a lot of customers today, and I don’t know how someone could have done this much damage.”

Goldie sighed. Who would have done this—except Henry Nesbitt? He had a huge booth, filled with four or five lines of pottery. He was a good potter, too. He might have damaged Goldie’s wares because the buyer was a woman, someone who would be attracted to more feminine pottery.

The culprit hadn’t damaged Noreen’s pottery, but then, who would want to eat off gray plates with dull greenish-brown flowers? Noreen’s pottery seemed to get uglier with every line she made.

Goldie pulled the full box into her arms, and the pottery made a cracking sound as it shifted. Tears crept to her eyes, and she turned away. “See you later.”

“Bring your other lines in tomorrow morning, Goldie.” Mrs. Langford followed her to the door. “The buyer is coming after lunch, so you’ll have plenty of time to set up.”

“Thanks.” She walked outside and stowed her box in the car.

At least the teapot was still whole, and a few of the cups and saucers had escaped the villain’s destruction. Goldie left them there as a tea set. If only Ashley Wakefield would commission Goldie to make an entire line based on those few pieces.

But all that work—destroyed!

The tears came in earnest as Goldie drove home. Why had this happened? She tried to pray, but it only caused her to cry harder.

She pulled her car into the driveway. Was Ryan working right now? If only she could walk down to his house and cry on his shoulder.

Well, why not? Maybe he would give her some good advice. Maybe he would comfort her. Maybe even kiss her.

Looking in the rearview mirror, she wiped the mascara under her eyes and blew her nose. She surveyed her red, puffy face.

Yuck!

But it would have to do.

She ambled down the sidewalk, her shoulders drooping. All that time she had spend on her Rose line. All wasted.

As she approached Ryan’s driveway, she looked up.

Elisa stood in front of the house facing Ryan, her arms around his neck.

Catching her breath, Goldie stopped. She had determined to be honest with Ryan, but obviously, he had not been honest with her.

No wonder Elisa wouldn’t tell Goldie about Ryan. They were having some type of secret rendezvous.  

Ryan looked up and caught her eye. His eyes widened. “Goldie!”

With a cry of dismay, Goldie turned and ran back to her car.

* * *

The game is afoot! Until tomorrow, God bless!