Threads, Erin Latimer [ebook voice reader .txt] 📗

CHAPTER ONE
The Letter
“This one is for you.”
“What?” Alice put down her coffee mug and stared at the cream coloured envelope her mother was holding out to her. She didn’t recognize the loopy cursive writing on the front. “Ms. Alice Jane Cunningham.”
Her mother shrugged. “Junk mail?”
“There’s no return address.” Alice slipped her finger under the edge of the flap and tore it open. She pulled out a white slip of paper, catching an unusual fragrance as she did so. Was that cinnamon? The white paper unfolded into a letter written in the same loopy handwriting.


March 9th Thursday, 2012
Dear Alice,
If you are reading this it means I have passed on. I have taken all my worldly possessions with me - don’t let anyone tell you you can’t - save one thing. I leave you my beloved shop at 877 Douglas Street, Victoria BC.
You will find a Ms. Azura Grey there. She will teach you the ins and outs of the business. I have left the shop to YOU and no one else.
Enclosed you will find the deed to the shop and a key.
I hope this letter finds you well or at least healthier then I.
Sincerely,
Great Aunt Ruby Cox


“Mom, is this a joke? Who’s Ruby Cox?”
“Crazy Aunt Ruby? Let me see that.” Her mother seized the letter.
“I have a great aunt I don’t know about?” Alice picked up the envelope. “And she’s crazy? I thought there was supposed to be a…oh!” The envelope suddenly seemed heavier in her hand, and when she tipped it upside down a rusted silver key fell into her palm.
“This is unbelievable” Her mother was still staring at the letter. “I didn’t know she had a shop here in Victoria. She moved to Calgary when you were only seven. We never stayed in touch because she was…well, she was a little nuts.” She scratched her head and continued to stare at the letter. Alice stuck her hand into the envelope again and pulled out another sheet of paper
“Here’s the deed.”
“I can’t believe this.” Her mother flapped the letter toward her face like a fan. “Why would she leave this to you? She hasn’t seen you in years.”
Alice unfolded the deed and looked over the document, not understanding much except that her name was on it and it looked official.
“I don’t know why I’m getting the shop. Doesn’t she have children? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Most of what Ruby Cox did didn’t make any sense. And no, she never had any children. She never married.’
They looked up as Alice’s father entered the kitchen, and Alice jumped up excitedly. “Dad, look at this!”
Her father, his dark hair still wet from the shower, blinked, “What?”
“Do you remember my Aunt Ruby?” Mrs. Cunningham asked.
“The crazy one we lost touch with years ago?”
“I got a letter from her,” Alice chimed in, eager to tell her news. “It says she’s dead.”
“Pardon?” He took the letter from her and looked it over briefly. “She left you a store?”
“Yeah,” Alice said, “Apparently.” She had butterflies in her stomach, more out of nerves then excitement. She didn’t want to let herself feel excited. After all, what if it was some kind of messed up prank? “Do you think this is for real? I mean, it would be amazing if it was.”
“It looks legitimate,” her father examined the deed.
“Can we go see it?” Alice said. “It won’t be open, but maybe we can go look at the store front. It says 877 Douglas Street. That’s not too far from here.”
“I didn’t even know she had a shop” Her father frowned. “What sort of store is it? It just says Threads.”
Her mother looked delighted. “It must be a clothing store!”
Well that was an exciting thought. “Oh I hope so! Let’s go see it. Come on, it will only take a few minutes.”


“Do you see it yet?” Alice stared out the window of her mother’s car, trying to make out the little numbers on each store. She fidgeted in her seat like a third grader, barely able to sit still.
“It must be right down town.”
“I had no idea she had a store at all,” her mother repeated.
“877 - there! Pull over.” Alice unbuckled her seat belt. She swung open the door before the car was even turned off.
“Wait for me, young lady!” The car gave a little honk as her mother locked it. “Which one is it?”
“There!”
The dark store front was painted the color of wet cement. The windows were large and trimmed in flat gray, the door was white. But it was the items displayed inside the windows that affected Alice the most.
“Vacuum cleaners?”
She couldn’t help it, her chest felt tight with disappointment. She made a face as her mother began to laugh.
“I inherited a vacuum store?”
“Not the most exciting thing I can think of.”
“What kind of name is Threads?” Alice said. “It’s a stupid name.” It’s the name that made me think it was a clothing store. She knew she was being incredibly ungrateful and tried to squash the sour disappointment. “I shouldn’t complain,” she told herself. “I don’t even remember Aunt Ruby.”
“You could always sell it.”
Alice remembered the letter, how it had stated the shop was left to her and nobody else. “I don’t know,” she walked closer, staring into the dark windows of the shop, “It didn’t sound like Aunt Ruby would have wanted me to sell it.”
“Come on, let’s go home. Maybe it will look better tomorrow.”
Alice followed her mother, looking back over her shoulder. The shop windows were dark grey and still.


That night Alice re-read the letter and the deed, trying to make sense of why an Aunt she couldn’t even remember had left her a vacuum store. She went to bed just before midnight, wondering what it would be like to walk into the shop tomorrow and introduce herself as the new owner. She’d never owned anything more than a junky old car her parents had bought her last month just before graduation. She’d never had a job before either. It wasn’t like they taught you how to own a business in high school. How was she supposed to know how to run a shop? How was she supposed to have employees? She hadn’t even bossed people around when she’d been the team leader during high school projects. She wasn’t a leader, she was a follower.
On that bitter note Alice rolled over and jammed her pillow over her head, as if it would block out the mental onslaught. A million thoughts whizzed around in circles as she drifted off. She dreamed about parades of vacuum cleaners marching out of a drab grey shop on the main street. Then that dream ended, and another one began. This time she was in a beautiful room with dark wood walls and shelves filled with mysterious and exotic artefacts. There was a woman there, her face a vague blur. A faint aroma hung in the air as the woman bent over her, spicy and sweet. A gentle voice murmured instructions. The woman’s voice was far away and Alice couldn’t make out the words clearly. Something pressed into her palm and she looked down at a tiny silver bracelet with charms that tinkled like chimes in the wind.


The dream came with her when she woke up the following morning. Usually Alice couldn’t remember her dreams, but this one was startling in its clarity. She went straight to the little glass jewellery box on top of her dresser and raked through the contents. There it was.
She’d had the silver charm bracelet since she was a child; she’d stopped wearing it years ago. Alice couldn’t even remember where she’d got it from. Now she examined it more closely - a braid of silver strands with charms set in it, tiny charms delicately detailed. A heart, with smaller hearts etched into the front of it, an old fashioned key, a half-moon with a little grinning face, and a ship’s anchor. Curiously, Alice slipped it over her wrist and was surprised that it still fit. Shouldn’t it be a lot smaller? She’d worn it years ago.
The mirror above her dresser caught her eye. The Alice in the mirror looked sleepy and confused, her normally pin-straight brown hair was messy, and the baggy t-shirt she’d worn to bed had slipped off one boney shoulder. Large brown eyes stared back at her, bambi eyes in a narrow face. Her lips were thin and pale. A forgettable face if ever there was one. She frowned, disgusted. She was so plain looking. She remembered a school field trip to the duck pond, how the teacher had explained the female ducks were drab in order to disinterest predators. She would disinterest predators alright, and everyone else.
Maybe that’s why her one and only relationship had ended, why Jason had dumped her a week before graduation. He had told her she wasn’t “spontaneous” enough. Was that a nice way of saying she was boring? Alice looked at herself closely. Did she look boring? No, more likely worried. After all, this was the day she’d meet that Azura person. The woman would probably take one look at her and think Aunt Ruby was mad to give the shop to a scrawny, doe-eyed nineteen year old straight out of high school. Snap out of it, she told herself, you’ve just been comparing yourself to a Mallard. Geeze.
Alice showered and got ready slowly, deciding to dress professionally, then she observed herself in the mirror again. She was wearing a white blouse, black pants and a pair of white pumps she had stolen from her mother’s closet. Her hair hung straight and limp but at least it was clean. The picture she made might be good enough to fool someone else, but when Alice looked at her face all she saw was a scared high school kid.
“I’m graduated now,” she told her reflection firmly. “I’m grown up.” Yeah right, the fact that she’d just used the term “grown up” disproved that.
Her parents looked up as she descended the stairs into the kitchen and her mother beamed in approval. “Wow, you look like a real businesswoman.”
“Thanks.” Alice sat down and grabbed the cereal. Her father swallowed a mouthful of toast. “You look very nice, Alice.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“You think you’ll do vacuums full time?”
Alice wrinkled her nose and put a spoon full of cereal into her mouth to delay her answer. She hadn’t exactly grown up dreaming of being a vacuum cleaner sales man, or rather, sales woman. She hadn’t dreamed of anything, actually. She remembered when the teacher in grade five had asked the students what they wanted to be when they “grew up”. The other children had clamoured excitedly about being doctors, fire fighters and vets. Ten year old Alice had shrugged. How was she supposed to know? She was only ten. Now that she was nineteen she still felt like that. How was she supposed to know? She couldn’t think of anything she was particularly good at. The aptitude test they’d taken in grade twelve had