Goodbye Dolly

8

After a little shuffling around and rearranging on Bonnie's part, Gretchen found herself setting up next to April and Nina's table early Saturday morning.

She arranged the dolls on her assigned table. Nimrod peeked out of Gretchen's white cotton purse with the black poodles and red bows. Named for the biblical mighty hunter, the puppy casually watched the commotion around him from a strategic vantage point, slung from the back of Gretchen's chair.

Gretchn glanced at the next table with amusement. Leave it to Nina to create a buzz.

Her aunt sported a yellow dress with enormous blue and pink flowers and several matching bows wedged into her hair. Her color scheme appeared to be all the colors of the rainbow. Tutu, leashed to a table leg, wore an enormous, multicolored collar with streaming ribbons.

Nina rushed over and tied a bow into Nimrod's hair as well. It matched her rainbow color scheme.

A third dog-a tiny Yorkshire terrier-was next.

'Color coordination is important,' Nina said, catching Gretchen laughing. 'Gimmicks and gizmos sell services.'

'You look great,' Gretchen admitted as Nina scooped the puppy's topknot into her hand and tied it back with a ribbon. 'Where did you get the Yorkie?'

'Her name is Sophie. She's my latest client. I worked out a deal with her owner, charging less because Sophie is working the show with me. Nimrod's a wonderful example of my excellent training ability, and Sophie is my unruly example of the importance of discipline.'

Prepared to live up to her reputation, Sophie promptly peed on the table, reminding Gretchen of Ronny Beam's health violation threat.

'No, no,' Nina said, whipping a tiny pad out of her supply bag and shoving it under Sophie. 'You go pee-pee on the wee-wee pad. Gretchen, get Nimrod. He can show her how it works. That's the best way to learn. By example.'

Gretchen handed Nimrod over and snuck back to her table. Nina desperately needed a male companion to take her attention away from all those animals.

Gretchen propped her newly lettered repair sign on a stand and opened her toolbox.

April came rushing in, her reading glasses perched on the end of her nose and her arms filled with doll valuation books. A white paper bag dangled from her fist under the pile of books.

'The parking lot's filling up,' she said, dropping everything on her table. 'The ticket takers are letting them in. I almost didn't get through the mob. Have a donut.' She dug in the bag, handed one to Nina, and held one out for Gretchen.

Gretchen shook her head no and glanced at her watch. Ten minutes till showtime. Her stomach was doing little flipflops. Until the show was under way, she couldn't think about eating anything.

Where did I put the stringing nylon? She dug through the toolbox in a moment of panic, then remembered she had stowed it in a separate plastic bag in her purse. She pulled it out with relief and considered her future as a doll restoration artist if she didn't improve her business and organization skills. Her new career didn't look promising. At this rate, she'd run the business right into the ground if her mother didn't hurry back.

The large hall was filled with stocked tables and lively exhibitors. She scanned her own collection of dolls marked for sale. Usually her mother sold an eclectic grouping, but since this was Gretchen's first show, she planned to focus on just one type of doll: Ginnys, which were extremely popular at the moment.

She wished again that she could have added the dolls from Chiggy's auction. If she ever saw that guy who had cheated her out of those dolls again, she'd chase him down. She'd keep an eye out for Duanne Wilson. Maybe he'd attend the show, if he was really a doll collector and not a scam artist.

Her mother's hard-plastic Ginny dolls were lined up on small stands, waiting for buyers. Gretchen knew she would have her hands full all day, answering questions about the Ginnys and repairing whatever came her way.

'Look at this,' someone said, approaching the table. 'A Goldilocks Ginny.'

'This one is called Doctor Scrubs,' someone else said, reading a tag. 'Booties, a mask, green scrubs. Isn't it cute?

Can you knock ten dollars off the price of this one?'

The doll show had begun.

Nina's table, as Gretchen had predicted, was a huge hit. Everyone stopped to watch Nimrod ride in his embroidered purse on Nina's shoulder, his tiny face a study in sweetness.

'Nimrod, hide,' Nina commanded. And the teacup poodle ducked down inside the purse to appreciative cheers. Bonnie Albright breezed by with a group of collectors at her heels. She stopped abruptly, as though Gretchen were an afterthought, and circled around to approach the table.

Gretchen lowered the antique balljointed doll she was attempting to restring. This one was challenging because of the small holes that the stringing nylon had to pass through, so she was glad for the distraction.

'Gretchen, there you are.' A chunk of red lipstick graced Bonnie's front tooth. 'This is Helen Huntington, president of the Boston Kewpie Club.'

Gretchen rose and shook the older woman's hand. The contrast between the two club presidents was striking. Bonnie looked like a clown with her harsh red wig and painted features. Although well into her seventies, Mrs. Huntington had a face the texture of a newborn's belly. Plastic surgery, Gretchen guessed. And silver hair expensively bobbed. A Chanel suit. Svelte figure. Probably ate nothing but celery and carrots.

Bonnie continued the introductions.

'Eric Huntingon is accompanying his mother,' Bonnie said.

Flabby, with a weak chin, the son had obviously indulged in a few too many pastries, making up for his mother's healthful habits. 'What a turnout,' he said. 'I had trouble parking the car.'

Bonnie frowned in concentration, apparently never having heard the often-mimicked 'pahk the cah.'

'Yes, well,' Bonnie said, hesitantly. 'Yes. And this is Milt Wood and Margaret Turner.'

Milt Wood grabbed her hand and squeezed hard. He was fortyish and built like a linebacker, all shoulders and solid girth. 'It's exciting to be here. A few days in Phoenix, then we're headed to Palm Beach on Wednesday,' He released her hand. 'Margaret's planning a party to announce the season of parties. Isn't that right?'

Margaret Turner looked like a classic grandmother. Reading glasses hanging from her neck, yellow polo shirt tucked neatly into crisp shorts, and sensible walking shoes.

'You have to be careful these days,' the granny lookalike said, leaning forward, speaking in a stage whisper.

'The nouveau riche are invading all the old neighborhoods. The announcements have to be given discreetly, or there's no telling who will show up.'

Gretchen's smile slid sideways and froze. Looks weren't everything. Perceptions had fooled her before, and Margaret Turner had just reminded her that pretentiousness came in all physical forms, even with support shoes. These were Steve's kind of people.

'I know your mother,' Eric said. 'I bought a doll from her years ago, when she still resided in Massachusetts. Lovely woman.'

'She's in San Diego,' Gretchen said. 'I'm sure she will be disappointed to have missed you.'

After a few more pleasantries and Gretchen's promise to stop by the visiting club's Kewpie table, the group moved on to watch the next act in Nina's theatrical debut.

'You don't have that Eastern accent,' Bonnie whispered to Gretchen as they were leaving.

'We moved quite a bit when I was young,' Gretchen explained. 'That's probably why.'

April sidled over. 'I thought having Nina at my table would improve business,' she said with a scowl. Gretchen glanced at the crowd. 'Business looks good.'

'Her business, you mean. No one can get through the traffic jam for an appraisal.