Macaroni

Chapter 2

Willard Scott or "Scottie" as the boys at the barber shop called him, worked weekdays at the antique store, Monday Wednesday Friday mornings. He had multiple booths, which he loved like pets, and nurtured like plants. He'd been doing it for fifteen years, since his wife died, and left behind too many collections to count. Scottie decided he would do it in her memory, or honor, or whatever, and sell tchochkes, and collections. He'd purchase pieces en masse from people who walked in or emailed him photos of their collections: cats, frogs, owls, perfume, dogs.

Scottie loved every collection. It reminded him of his wife. Her name was Emma and she collected pigs. She laughed at a pig at a thrift store one day while they were strolling downtown on a date, fifty years ago, and he started getting her pigs to make her laugh. He loved to watch her laugh, smile. Her whole face changed. She had a resting face that made people think there was something wrong with her, and a smiling face that made the world light up. It made his world light up, and the collections he worked with at the antique store kept that feeling close.

It was a small shop on a downtown street with several antique stores. Window watchers, shoppers, and sellers could walk through town and shop galore. Scottie had regulars. Some customers would buy one piece at a time, fall in love with another and pine over it for a while, and come back for more. One time, he had a collection of over 300 porcelain dogs and he sold them all to one person. He figured that person would go and sell them all one a time to even more collectors and that gave him a little jolt of Emma joy just to think about those little dogs traveling around the world one at a time, bringing smiles to resting faces in Australia, England, Canada, and across the U.S.

Scottie wanted help at the store when he was there. He was a partial owner, so he could make decisions about hiring staff. The past year had been lonely. He'd been lonely. He wasn't sure if traffic had been lighter or if he had been getting slower. He wanted a pal.