eyes told her, and Tutu planned on winning every battle.
“We have important issues to discuss,” Nina said, waving a ring-studded hand. “The luncheon is coming up fast, only two weeks away and so much to do. We still have to meet with the caterer, pick up table arrangements, prepare the silent auction, and whip this bunch into shape. The entire event is turning into a disaster.”
“It’ll be fine.” Gretchen sat down on the edge of the stage, not believing her own words. They hadn’t anticipated the amount of work involved in presenting a play with a cast completely devoid of talent or any innate ability to follow simple directions or remember lines. “Everything will come together.”
And all the time away from the repair shop had Gretchen worried. She loved the partnership with her mother, the finely tuned team they had become. But dolls in need of attention were piling up daily, especially now that they finally had access to the marvelous Spanish Colonial Revival with its complex blend of Mexican and Spanish influences. The house was structurally sound, but needed a thorough cleaning after years of standing empty. And cataloging and organizing the displays would take more time than they originally had thought. Her mother had been working long hours at the new museum for the last few days. No one was in the workshop.
Two weeks and life will return to normal, she reminded herself.
“We have several hundred guests registered for the luncheon and the theater presentation.” Nina sat down beside her. “And more ticket requests coming in every day.”
“Good work. Our dream is coming true.”
Nina gave her a doubtful look. “At first I thought it was wonderful that the club had been offered the opportunity to renovate the house and open it as a doll museum, but my radar is telling me that something is wrong. Your last tarot reading isn’t reassuring me either.”
The cast began wandering back into the banquet hall dressed in their street clothes, their purses slung over their shoulders. “We had a meeting in the break room,” Bonnie said. “We’re on strike.”
“I didn’t get a vote,” Nina said.
“You’re the reason we’re striking,” Bonnie said to Nina.
“It’s been stressful,” Julie said, lagging behind the rebellion. “We’ve been working hard. Let’s take the rest of the day off to rejuvenate and try again tomorrow.”
The other members of the play didn’t look as though they agreed with Julie.
As the cast filed out, all Gretchen could do was hope they’d come back.
Nina came out of the break room with two cups of coffee. “After what you went through last night, you should be the one taking the day off. How awful for that poor woman.”
They sat down in upholstered chairs on the stage.
“Right now I’m extremely worried about Nacho and Daisy,” Gretchen said. “Why didn’t Daisy signal to me when I was at the cemetery?”
“How did they ever manage before they met you?”
The two homeless people had been a source of frustration for Gretchen ever since she’d met and become friends with them, shortly after her move to Arizona. She wanted to help them, but she assumed that meant they had to change. She was learning fast that her method wasn’t working.
Still, she didn’t want to give up.
“I called the police station without finding out anything. Daisy isn’t answering her cell. I don’t want to bother Matt until later. I’m sure he worked through the night.”
“Nacho and Daisy will be fine. It’s this project and your safety that I’m worried about. Everything’s off-kilter. Auras are wrong. Everything.”
Her aunt was unlike most people, but her views weren’t without merit. She saw life through a different colored lens, and though she didn’t like to admit it, Gretchen understood much of Nina’s madness.
“If I’d had a vote,” her aunt continued, “I would have voted no to taking this on.”
“Why?” For someone on the opposing side, Nina had certainly waded in to take over control of the play.
“We don’t know anything about the owner. Caroline went down and looked at the deed. It’s titled to something called The Smart Investment Trust. That doesn’t tell us anything.”
The arrangement was unusual, but also a good deal for the club. According to the terms of the agreement with the house’s owner, the club would have several fundraisers to help with refurbishing and operating costs, and they would convert the home into a museum. In return, the owner would allow them to remodel as they wished and then use any revenues generated to keep the museum open and running.
Nina scowled. “That wormy little attorney who is representing the owner, what’s his name?”
“Dean McNalty.”
“Him. There’s not one good reason why he can’t tell us who owns the house. I’d like to get answers out of him even if it means wringing his scrawny little neck.”
“Such violence from a proclaimed pacifist.”
“I’m feeling a bit stressed,” Nina admitted.
“Not only do we have a beautiful old building to work with, but the original owners were also avid collectors. The house is filled with boxes of dolls.”
With what they’d already found inside the house and with the dolls the members had eagerly offered to donate, they might have opened the first floor to visitors by the end of the month. If only the paperwork hadn’t taken so long. She and her mother had received keys and had taken their first walk-through only three days ago.
Gretchen sipped her coffee and looked around the empty room. “There isn’t anything more we can do here. Let me show you the museum. We have our work cut out for us, but the possibilities are limitless.”
6
There are many ways to place dolls for display. They can be arranged by size, by type, or by color. A grouping of dolls dressed all in white can be very dramatic. Or you can place dolls in scenes, paying close attention to appropriate furnishings for your doll’s particular era.
Preservation of your dolls is the key to their longevity. Keep them away from direct sunlight and florescent lights. Room temperature should be between sixty-five degrees and seventy degrees. Closed cases are preferable to open where the dolls would be exposed to dirt, dust, and insects.
– From World of Dolls by Caroline Birch
Gretchen and Nina walked the three short blocks from the rehearsal hall to the museum, led by Tutu. Caroline came out of the house while they were standing on the sidewalk admiring the architecture. Gretchen loved the Spanish Colonial Revival. It had a low-pitched red-tile roof, arched windows, and an asymmetrical design that Gretchen found intriguing. And it was right in the heart of one of the few remaining historic districts in the downtown area.
To complete the perfect picture, a small balcony overlooked the street, and behind the house stood a tiny caretaker’s cottage. La casita in Spanish.
“The house is owned by an eccentric, hermitlike woman, according to the owner’s attorney,” Caroline said, standing next to them. “No one has lived here for many years.”
The entire doll club had been present for the inspection so Gretchen already knew that the home had been neglected for a very long time. At least most of the dolls had been boxed up and stored away from the damaging effects of dust and sunlight. And what a massive collection it was turning out to be! Generations of this family’s members must have been avid collectors.
“Come in and see the progress we’ve made,” Caroline said.
“Just so you know,” Nina said, “I’m firmly against what you are doing.”
“Oh, really?” Caroline said. “Then you should go shopping. Come on, Gretchen.”
The last thing her aunt could stand was being excluded. “I’ll stay,” she said. “Someone has to protect you two from your own actions.”
Gretchen paused on the sidewalk to admire a large sign, finding herself once again in awe of her mother’s ability to negotiate. World of Dolls Museum, the sign read. A smaller sign hung beneath it announcing that it would open soon. “I like it. You convinced the new owner to name the museum after your doll book. A smart move.”
