The Map and Key

CH 1 PICKING UP THE PIECES

When the Plague swept through the city of Vertbridge, Hazel Abbott thought she lost everything- but that was not quite true.

Her parents fell victim to the Plague and left behind a struggling antiques shop for which they had always harboured dreams of greatness. They had been her only family and now she was alone. But Hazel was a quietly resilient young woman and eventually made her way back to the shop.

Situated off a cobbled side street, up a narrow set of roughhewn stairs, and built right into the thick stone wall that surrounded the city- the shop was so unassuming that most of the locals had stopped noticing it when they passed.

For some reason this little shop had captivated her parents and encouraged their dreams. It was what helped feed and clothe Hazel as a child; and she felt she owed it to her parents’ memories to try and keep the place going.

The first morning Hazel walked up to the shop since her parents’ deaths six months before, she paused at the door and ran her fingers over the dull peeling paint, stalling for time before she had to go inside. Standing there she made up her mind to clean from the outside in.

To start, she took the rag and a bucket of soapy water she had brought with her and cleaned off the dusty window next to the door- any extra light in the shop, she knew, would be a plus.

As she scrubbed, the wooden sign that proclaimed “Abbott’s Antiques” in faded paint swayed above her. The sign would have to wait, getting it repainted cost money that Hazel just did not have at the moment- plague burials, as hasty as they were, were not free.

What she did have, though, was a can of her father’s paint from home. After braiding her long red hair back out of the way, Hazel got the sign down. She scraped the peeling paint off it, the door, and window casing.

By noon the sun had come out strong and hot and she knew she would have more freckles on her face by the end of the day than she had started with. Even so, it was peaceful in that little side street, the birds kept Hazel company with their songs. The paint was, she hoped, eye-catching blue.

That night she went to bed thoroughly tired and satisfied with her work- any distraction from her grief was welcome.

CH 2 PUTTING THE PIECES BACK TOGETHER

The next morning, she showed up at the shop with potted flowers from her mother’s garden to make the shopfront more inviting. Already she noticed a few passersby giving the place a second, or even first, look.

Despite cleaning the window the day before, Hazel noted that inside the shop was still cave-like. A chandelier hung in the center of the low beamed ceiling; but her eccentric mother had hung keys from its many arms rather than just use it for lighting.

The keys brushed against the top of Hazel’s head making a cheerful tinkling sound as she moved to light the myriad of candles in the shop. Candles were on every available flat surface and she lit them all- the display cabinets, the tables, the chandelier.

The light they gave off was warm and soft, creating a cozy atmosphere. Dust motes floated through their beams as Hazel began to dust- the shop had been closed since her parents fell sick and dusting seemed the best place to start inside.

As she dusted, Hazel caught whiffs of her favourite smell- old cotton cloth and beeswax.

The shop had smelled like that for as long as she could remember, and it took her back to her childhood.

Growing up in the shop helping her parents had helped shape her into a quiet girl who generally preferred books to people. There were more than enough books in the shop to keep her reading for years. Periodically she stopped dusting the bookshelves that lined two of the walls to look at a title here and flip through a few pages there. Most of the books were not worth the paper they were printed on, but there were a few rare or even banned titles tucked away for the more discerning and discrete customers- if there ever were more customers…

Hazel sighed, blowing a curl that had escaped her braid out of her eyes, and surveyed the spindly legged tables that were draped in bolts of cloth and scattered over the warped wooden floor. The cloth had been left behind by the shop’s original tenant- a dressmaker. Hazel’s father had found the bolts tucked away in the back of the shop and decided they would make excellent additions to the displays. Hazel’s favourite was a particularly bright bolt of green and gold silk brocade.

The tables held every item imaginable, and Hazel used her dusting as a way to take stock of what was on display. The coloured glass perfume bottles could stay out, she decided, and placed them near some candles so they would cast pretty patterns on the walls. The group of silver thimbles she added to the keys on the chandelier. Hazel moved the bone handled letter opener to the table that held an ornate dip pen, ink well, and vintage paper beside a bookshelf and overstuffed leather chair. And the cameo broach and porcelain figure of a woman in a yellow dress were moved to the table under the window.

The display of maps- some more accurate than others, on the wall behind the proprietor’s desk she left where they were. Hazel had spent many dull days as a teenager looking at them and dreaming about faraway lands and adventure. She could not bring herself to break the spell they cast over her still.

After days of cleaning, rearranging tables and displays, digging new items out of storage; and rehanging the sign outside herself Abbott’s Antiques was once more open for business.

Hazel placed a hand lettered sign in the window declaring the shop open every day, save Sunday, and smiled to herself.

Looking around at all her hard work, Hazel could see how the shop had gotten a hold of her parents- it was not much, but the shop was theirs. Hers now. What started as familial obligation and a distraction from her grief had turned into determination to make the old shop into a success- however unlikely that seemed.

It was ready and open for business; now all she needed were customers to help turn her dream into a reality.

CH 3 OPEN FOR BUSINESS

The start was slow going, but that was to be expected given the economy after the plague. Not only was the economy depressed, but so were the people.

In a bid to brighten the people’s days and hopefully draw a few more people in, Hazel started to create small displays outside of the shop door.

One day it was a table with fresh cut flowers from her garden in the prettiest vases. The next it was hanging the keys and thimbles from the sign so they tinkled in the breeze.

On a rainy day it was a collection of colourful umbrellas from around the continent that her parents had collected. She sold a rather lovely pink and copper one to a woman who had been caught out by the rain.

The display that really kickstarted things was of local history items. It had been the only display she could think off that day and she had not really expected it to get much notice, but it did.

The grocer that lived up the street, Mr. Jones, was the first to stop when I passed on his way to work. He admired the still life painting of a jug and fruit on a table draped with a linen cloth by a local artist from the previous century.

She had known him since she was a girl- he would always slip her an extra apple when she was helping her mother do the shopping.

“Good morning, Mr. Jones.” Hazel greeted as she stepped out into the early morning sunlight. “On your way to work?”

“Good morning, yes I am. And may I say, I’m sorry about your parents. They were truly lovely people.”

Swallowing the small lump that had appeared in her throat, Hazel nodded. “They were, I miss them very much.”

“What you’ve done with the shop is remarkable. It’s a shame you don’t get more traffic up tucked away up here. Have you considered putting a sign down on the main road?”

“I hadn’t. It’s a good idea, but I’d need the money to have one made first. Once the shop is doing better perhaps.”

“Well let me give you a hand with that goal. How much for the painting? I can’t think of something more appropriate to hang in my market stall."

Hazel was speechless for a short second from both surprise and gratitude. “It’s five bronze coins, but I’d be happy to take two considering all the apples you gave me over the years.”

“Nonsense, I’m more than happy to support you and five is a very fair price.”

Mr. Jones handed the coins over to Hazel, tucked the painting under his arm, and headed down to the market.

Hazel placed the coins in her lock box and wrote the sale down in her ledger. Keeping an up-to-date record of funds was important if she wanted to make the shop profitable. She created a new column in the ledger to budget for the sign Mr. Jones had suggested.

Over the coming days, more customers showed up- almost all at the urging of Mr. Jones from his market stall. When she asked how they had heard of the shop, they all said the same thing- they had admired the painting that was hanging in the grocer’s stall, he told them where he got it, and talked the shop and the owner up so much they had to see it for themselves.

It wasn’t a free apple, but Mr. Jones was still finding a way to make sure Hazel was able to have a full belly at the end of the day.

Then came a visitor she never would have dreamed she would see in her shop- the mayor.

“My Lord Mayor, to what do I owe the honor?” Hazel asked, hurrying to usher him inside. What on earth was one of the Queen’s representatives doing in her little shop? she wondered as she bobbed a curtsey.

The mayor nodded in greeting.

“Ms. Abbot, word has spread that you have a unique collection of artifacts spanning our kingdom’s existence and beyond. Her Majesty the Queen would like to request that you curate just such a display for the upcoming 500th anniversary of Vertbridge’s founding. There will be a celebration in the city square with pertinent displays and activities.”

“Oh, what a lovely idea. I’d be happy to do what I can.”

“Wonderful. Please be in the square on July 10th at 7am with your display items. It should go without saying, but I’ll say it anyway- please be sure that the items cast our history only in a positive light. We don’t want any awkward incidents to mar the day.”

“Of course, I would never bring anything in bad taste.”

“Very well. Good day, Ms. Abbot.”

“Good day, my Lord Mayor.”

Hazel immediately rushed to her desk and looked at the calendar she kept on it.

“July 10th…that means I have…one week to pull a display together. That is…not a lot of time…but I don’t think a request from the Queen is actually a request, so I’d better get busy.”

CH 4 THE CELEBRATION

A week later, Hazel had just finished setting up her display under the shade of a silk tent embroidered with the crest of the royal family.

Set on a display stand of polished walnut were quartz carved dice used when people first settled the area to decide who got what plot of land, an antique sapphire ring that was a wedding gift to a high born lady a few centuries before, a small stone sculpture of a mythical figure- Conall the Wolf from local fairy tales, and an intricate gold and metal work brooch that dated back into the mists of time before permanent settlement.