Problems Multiply

Chapter Twenty-nine

“Goldie’s not here.” The owner of the Gallery Connection, Mrs. Langford, spoke to Ryan after he introduced himself. “She left the Gallery about forty minutes ago.        

“I see.” Ryan glanced around the store. Groups of customers stood in front of the various booths.

When Goldie had driven off, after she witnessed Elisa’s arms around him, Ryan had assumed she’d gone to the Gallery since she spent many evenings here. He took a step toward the door. “Maybe she went to the church. I’ll check there.”

“Did she tell you the bad news?”

He raised an eyebrow, recalling how depressed Goldie looked. “What happened?”

With a sigh, Mrs. Langford motioned him to follow her. “Someone damaged her Rose line.” She walked back to Goldie’s booth. “Look at this empty display. Everything was destroyed except for these few pieces.”

Ryan’s jaw dropped. The only pottery in the booth was a teapot and three cups and saucers. “You mean, this entire area was filled with her pottery?”

“Yes. She had an eight-piece place setting of her Rose line with plates, cups, saucers, and bowls.” Mrs. Langford pressed her lips together. “And we have no idea who damaged it.” 

Poor Goldie! No wonder she was depressed.

A woman, holding a black plate with ugly butterflies painted on it, stopped beside Mrs. Langford. “I set up all my lines for tomorrow.”

“Good.” Mrs. Langford motioned to Ryan. “This is Ryan Collins. He’s a friend of Goldie’s.” She turned to Ryan. “This is Noreen Trennen, one of the other potters. And her husband, Carl.”

A rotund man with gray hair stuck out his hand. “Hi. Carl Trennen. A friend of Goldie’s is a friend of ours.”

Ryan shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“There’s our third potter.” Mrs. Langford motioned to a booth down the aisle that was filled with all types of colorful pottery. “Henry Nesbitt.”

Henry looked up at his name, and his dark eyes registered surprise when he saw Ryan. Then he frowned.

Ryan grit his teeth. Henry Nesbitt—the same guy who ran into his car! Most likely he had smashed Goldie’s pottery in a drunken rage.

“We have a buyer from New York coming in tomorrow.” Mrs. Langford pushed a strand of white hair from her face. “We’re hoping she’ll commission someone’s pottery line, but it doesn’t look good for Goldie.”

“I guess not.” Ryan glanced back at the lone teapot. He thought of the Presidential line Goldie had given him. It was still in the box. Maybe he should bring it over tomorrow.

Mrs. Langford walked with him to the front of the store. “I’m keeping my eyes on that tea set.” She kept her voice low. “But I can’t watch it 24/7. I hope nothing happens to it.”

“That makes two of us.” Ryan extended his hand. “Good to meet you, Mrs. Langford.”

“Same here.” Smiling, she shook his hand.

“I’m off work tomorrow. Maybe I’ll come by.” With a wave, he left the store.

Now, where was Goldie?

He drove to the church and parked. The building was dark and the front doors were locked, but a door on the side was open. It led into a tiny room—a prayer room, with a kneeling bench.

He looked at the bench. “Why not?” Kneeling down, he folded his hands on the railing. “Father in heaven, please help Goldie right now. I don’t know where she went, but You do. Comfort her, and help Mrs. Langford to catch the culprit.”

Poor Goldie! All the hours she must have spent making that pretty pottery. Had she come to his house to tell him her problems? If so, Elisa had created another problem.

That Elisa! After Goldie left, Ryan had cut off their relationship for good. Elisa had argued, then complained, then blamed him for their broken engagement.

If only she wasn’t going to work with his parents in Africa.

But what about Goldie? What if she didn’t want to date him anymore?

Well, he couldn’t blame her. There he was—locked in Elisa’s arms. He could just imagine what Goldie thought about that.

With a sigh, he stood. This was sure a tiny room—just like the church. Small. Crowded. They did need a new building.

Goldie’s voice flitted through his mind. “Would you design our building, Ryan? The church would give you 7% of the entire cost.”

Designing this church was small potatoes, and he wasn’t going to waste his time on it. He had put his résumé into three different architectural firms, and he now had interviews scheduled with two of them.

Design the church.

Raising his eyebrows, he glanced around. Had someone spoken? Or was it his own heart?

He looked up at the ceiling. “Father, I don’t want to design this church. I pray that I’ll get into one of those firms, Lord.” With a job in an architectural firm, he’d be on his way to making money—lots of money.

But the message persisted: design the church.

Deep in thought, he walked out to his car and then drove along Main Street through Knotty Pine. As he passed the Gallery Connection, Noreen and Carl Trennen walked outside. Then Henry Nesbitt left.

A sudden thought hit Ryan. He parked his car and ran into the camera store across the street from the Gallery. Five minutes later, purchase in hand, he walked into the Gallery Connection.

Mrs. Langford wrestled a cover over her cash register. “Ryan? I’m afraid we’re closed now.”

“That’s okay. I had an idea.” Setting his bag on the counter, he pulled out a camera. “This is called a ‘nanny cam.’ Since you can’t watch Goldie’s booth all the time, could I set it up? Maybe we can catch the pottery breaker on film.”

         “What a great idea!” Mrs. Langford walked back to Goldie’s booth and Ryan followed. “We’ll have to place it so no one notices.”

         “I can do that.” Ryan looked at the top of the booth. “And I’ll give you my cell phone number. If anything happens to Goldie’s pottery, give me a call.”

* * *

         Until tomorrow, God bless!