Curios and Curiouser

The bell tinkled as the door to Curios and Curiouser opened.  Lucy and a warm, damp summer gust stepped into the shop.  The gust passed over shelves of antiques and interesting trinkets, eventually dying in the frilly dresses of the collectible porcelain doll display.  Lucy stomped a little moisture off her canvas slip-ons and called out, "Hello, hello! Betty, wait 'til you see what I got this time!"

"Hello, hello!" a nearly identical voice called back from the office.  "I'll be right there."

Lucy's ginger cat joined her before her twin did.  Irving meowed in a demanding, hungry way.  He stepped between her legs as she approached the counter.  She was almost there when he flopped down before her and rolled onto his belly with another demanding sound.

"Did you feed Irving?" Lucy called out.  "He's telling me he's starving."

"He tells lies," Betty said, one hand waving dismissively and the other holding her cane.  "I fed him at nine, right when you asked me to." She stopped walking when she saw her sister.  They both laughed, each pointing at the other's floral tee shirt.

"Customers always ask if we do this on purpose," Lucy said.

"I don't think they believe us when we say it's a coincidence," Betty agreed.

Lucy knelt down and affectionately petted her cat.  "Now listen here, Mister Irving. I won't have you eating yourself into an early grave again."

A little sigh escaped Betty's lips.

"You can't convince me this isn't my Irving," Lucy said defensively.  "It looks just like him."

"He did have whiskers," Betty said.  She attempted to drag the umbrella stand to the front of the store.

"Oh, let me." Lucy rose to her feet, placed her purse and canvas tote on the counter, and took over with the umbrella stand.  "It's a great idea.  Tropical Storm Kenneth was just sprinkling when I left the garage sale, but it'll pick up.  You just know somebody is going to be out in the downpour and in need of an umbrella."  She placed the display near the door.

Betty sat on a stool by the register counter and rested the handle of her cane against her thigh. "Meanwhile, at the tag sale of that mysterious maroon Victorian on Lakeview Lane," she said with a cheeky grin.

"The morning was dark, but my coffee was darker," Lucy joked along. "The joint stank like cheap gin and expensive perfume.  That's when I saw the tallest glass of water of my life."

Betty dropped the radio play joke to ask, "Wait, was there really a man?"

Lucy winked and kept it going as she walked to the counter with exaggeratedly dramatic gestures.  "I knew instantly what I was looking at.  Mid-forties."

"Younger than your son," Betty teased.

"Dressed in real linen, fine linen, the kind of linen you don't see anymore."

"Excellent taste."

"And the name!" Lucy took a position by her canvas bag on the counter.  "Was Alexander." She pulled out a porcelain doll and handed it to Betty.

"What a treasure!" Betty said, marveling at the doll's Victory Curls.  "Vintage Madame Alexander dolls can go for hundreds of dollars."

Lucy replied in her normal voice: "Well, Curios and Curiouser got her for ten."

"Well done! I think most porcelain dolls are a bit creepy, but this one is quite a find." Betty placed it on the counter, then turned her head to the doll display. "No offense intended, Ladies."  She returned her attention to her sister.  "Any other good finds?"

"Three more." Thunder rumbled.  Lucy continued: "They knew how to price their Wedgewood. Unfortunately. Hooray for them. Boo for us.  All of today's trinkets come from the toy department."

Irving made a small chirruping sound as he launched himself up onto the counter.  Then he settled into a sphinx-like pose by the register.

Lightning flashed, and a moment later, thunder rolled through the neighborhood.

Lucy pulled something tiny from her canvas bag.  She opened her fist to show off the inch-tall figurine of an adorable yellow creature with long ears.

"Is that a pokey-digi-thing?" Betty asked.

"I have no idea," Lucy admitted.  "I just thought it was cute enough for a quarter."

"You thought right," Betty asserted.  "I bet it would sit very nicely right on top of the register."

Lucy placed it as suggested.  "Perfect." She placed her hands on the canvas bag and stood it up straight, to aid in her next dramatic reveal. "This next one is a completely authentic--"

A violent crack of lightning and instant roar of thunder startled them. Lucy accidentally let go of the bag, allowing its sides to drop down to reveal her last two purchases in one go.  Meanwhile, Betty's hand flew instantly to her chest, and Irving disappeared somewhere in the direction of the office.

Lucy scoffed. "Tropical Storm Kenneth does not appreciate narrative structure."

"Lucy," Betty scolded.  She picked up the six inch long poppet from the open bag.  "Wha--who? Why?"

The crude linen doll had ink splotches for eyes. Astrological symbols and other squiggles had been written all over its torso.  Each limb featured elaborately knotted strands of dozens of strings--brightly colored wool yarn, plain white cotton thread, silk ribbon.

"I wanted to save him for last," Lucy answered meekly.  "I found him in a moldy dollhouse, surrounded by Barbies with pixie cuts.  It was undignified.  I couldn't leave him there.  He isn't a toy."

Betty looked at the poppet.  "He smells like lavender," she said. "I don't think we can sell him. I've seen knots and writing like this over at that crystals-and-incence store on the corner." She gestured vaguely in its direction.

"I'm glad you agree," Lucy said.  "I think the ladies over at the Cosmic Crocodile might know more about him, and where he really belongs."

"All right. But for now." Betty indicated the high floating shelf behind the register.  

"Perfect." Lucy placed the doll up there.  "You should have a decent view up there, Sir. We'll find you a good home."

The last treasure in Lucy's bag was an unassuming white piggy bank.  "I got this for a buck fifty," she said, handing it over to her sister.

"Lenox?" Betty asked, looking it over.  "Lenox! Very well done, ma'am."

"Thank you, ma'am."

Lightning cracked violently and the power went out. Thunder boomed immediately overhead.

"I'll get the flashlights," Betty sighed.

"I'll snoop on the neighbors and see how they're handling the outage."

"Lucy!"

"Oh!" Lucy said, peering out the window.  "Looks like we're the only ones who lost power." Her breath fogged the glass.

"Strange," Betty said.  She tested both flashlights and found them in perfect working order.  "Here." She placed one beside Lucy's purse.  "I'll take a look at the breaker." As she walked back towards the office she asked, "How did it get so cold?"

Lucy shrugged and turned away from the window.  "It's a storm in Massachusetts," she said.  "Hail on hot, muggy days.  Nor'easters in April. Are you actually surprised to be chilly in August?"

Lucy took one step away from the window and stopped. A six foot high display case covered in glass and ceramic figurines spontaneously fell backwards. It hit its cookie-jar-covered neighbor, which in turn slammed against the shop wall.  Cookie jars, figurines, and shards of each slid off the shelves and poured to the floor.  It was almost like watching Curios and Curiouser suffer a wound and bleed out.

Bet hobbled back from the office with impractical speed.  "Lucy? Lucy!"

"It isn't my fault!" Lucy said instinctively. "I was nowhere near--"

"I wasn't worried about blame," Betty snapped. "I was terrified you had been injured.  Can you imagine us both recovering from broken hips at the same time?"

"I'm okay," Lucy reassured her.

"Good."

"Is Irving all right?"

"He's fine," Betty reassured her.  "He's curled up in a ball on the sweater you left on your chair.  While I was back there, I didn't see any blown circuits."

Lucy carefully stepped around the wreckage and approached the counter.  Lightning flashed, but the thunder took a moment to rumble.  "The storm's moving on."  She picked up a flashlight.  "I think I should start sweeping up that mess. Maybe try to adjust the inventory list as I go."

"I'll call an electrician, and then help," Betty offered.

Lucy flipped the flashlight power switch a few times. "We have batteries in the drawer under the register, right?"  She stepped around to the back of the counter. 

"We do," Betty said, digging through her purse for her phone.  "That's strange, though. I had just checked it."

Lucy changed the flashlight batteries and Betty located her phone.  They declared in unison: "It's dead."

"Use my flashlight. It works perfectly," Betty said, handing it over to Lucy.

"Thank you. Here, take my phone."

After a moment, they again spoke simultaneously: "This is dead, too."

One of the art deco lamps on the table by the door clicked on.

"Oh. At least one circuit works," Betty noted.  "I can plug our phones in over there."

Two more lamps on the table clicked on.

"Betty. Those aren't plugged in."

Irving yowled and dashed out of the office.  He leapt up on the counter, hissed with terror, and scampered into the narrow space under the cabinet displaying Churchill Blue Willow dinnerware.

Without a word, Lucy stepped out from behind the counter.  She linked her right arm in Betty's left.  They walked together to the back office.

The desk, computer, chairs, and bookshelves maintained the exact same arrangement they'd chosen… rotated by ninety degrees.

Betty and Lucy calmly marched together back to the register counter.  Antique toy cars roamed the shop floor freely.  Jewelry boxes opened and shut, opened and shut.  A novelty lunchbox in the form of a giant cheeseburger floated in lazy circles bove the merchandise shelves.

"I know what's going on here," Betty said firmly.  "I have read enough stories and seen enough movies to understand. You can't fool this little old lady."

She let go of Lucy's arm and picked up the Madame Alexander doll her sister had just brought in. "If anything on Earth is haunted, it's an antique porcelain doll."  She smashed the doll's face against the counter corner.

The strange phenomena continued.  An antique radio that hadn't been plugged in for years switched on.  Eartha Kitt's "Santa Baby" joined the din.

"It has to be this!" Lucy grabbed the little yellow creature from the cash register and placed it securely in the center of the counter.  She picked up the phonebook.  "It isn't a pokey-digi-thing. It's a demon.  I cast thee out!" She slammed the phonebook down on the figurine and its head popped off.

The radio turned to Bob Seger's "Old Time Rock & Roll." More silly knickknacks joined the flying cheeseburger.

The twins both looked to the poppet covered in occult symbols.  Then they locked eyes and said, "Nah."

"'Voodoo curse' would be too obvious," Betty said.

"It's got to be this," Lucy agreed.  She picked up the new piggy bank and threw it to the tile floor with a satisfying smash.

Everything fell dark, silent, and still. Broken and intact antiques and curiosities settled into a grand mess on the floor.

Lightning flashed outside.

Lucy chuckled. "Why didn't we just leave?"

"In this weather?" Betty asked.

Distant thunder rumbled.

"Ah, yes," Lucy said. "I do hate walking around with wet hair."

Irving emerged from his hideout.  He hopped up to the counter with his usual chirrup and rubbed his face against Lucy's hands.  Then he flopped down and showed her his belly with a plaintive, hungry meow.

"You already had your breakfast," Lucy told him with an affectionate pat.

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The damage to Curios and Curiouser was covered by the twins' insurance policy, since it was clearly the work of Tropical Storm Kenneth's lightning and strong winds.  Merchandise was valued at retail price, not their acquisition cost. It worked out rather well for them.

The owner of the Cosmic Crocodile examined the poppet's runes and elaborate knotwork.  She explained that, "His magicks have a Celtic pedigree." She assured Betty and Lucy that she knew how to properly lay him to rest.

Irving never conclusively revealed himself to be Lucy's late husband.  He lived to the age of twenty-three, begging for a second breakfast every day of his life.