Green Door Antique Store
Chapters 1-4: Door | Café | Booths | Y-Names
Green Door Antique Store: What’s that Secret You’re Keeping?
If you read the first three chapters in the RockWall Chronicles, scroll down!
Chapter One: The Green Door
My daughter recommended I visit the Green Door Antique Store. While I had moved far too many times to have any desire to collect things, I did enjoy window shopping. So, I went …. alone.
The store was located in a nearby town and when I set my phone GPS, I noticed the hours were from 10:00 am to 2:00 pm Monday through Friday. It seemed odd for a store to only be open for so few hours and not at all on Saturday or Sunday.
It was a beautiful sunny Friday morning as I walked the short distance from the public parking area to the store. I wasn’t surprised to find that the door was green; I was surprised by its size. It seemed to be wide enough for two people to walk in side by side—and tall! I was reminded of a school I had visited that was in a building originally meant to accommodate Arabian horses. Those doors were of similar size, but they surely weren’t bringing horses into an antique store! The very thought amused me as I pulled the massive door open.
Inside the door was an equally massive clock. I noted that it was one o’clock and that I would need to watch my time to get through the store in an hour. There was a sign hanging underneath the clock with an arrow pointing to my right. It explained that if I followed the arrows, they would take me through all the booths and return me to the front door.
I jumped when a cheery voice exclaimed, “Hello. Welcome to the Green Door Antique Store!” What my body did at the sound of the voice was more like an out-of-body experience. Where did that voice come from?
Turning the opposite direction of the arrow, I could see a counter. It made sense to have the checkout desk there where one could pay on the way out. Behind the counter was the most grandmotherly-looking woman I had ever seen. Not grandmotherly like my generation that broke the grandmotherly mold. More like my grandmother who always wore an apron. The woman was smiling at me. Maybe it was more like being amused at my out-of-body experience.
“Sorry to startle you like that. It happens often with first-time visitors.”
I suddenly felt like I was visiting a church for the first time. I wondered if first-time visitors were as obvious in an antique store as in church. Probably so in this one.
“Was it that obvious that I was a newcomer?” I asked.
“Yes, it was!” she answered. “Enjoy looking around. Remember we close at 2:00.”
With that reminder, I turned in the opposite direction and walked into the first booth.
What happened next was unexpected.
Chapter Two: The Café
To my surprise, the first booth was completely empty. The shelves were all there, but they contained nothing. Was this a store of invisible antiques? This really made no sense. Maybe someone had just emptied their booth and it hadn’t been rented out again.
Feeling satisfied with my answer, I moved on. I could see a few other women walking ahead of me as I turned the corner to the next booth. To my surprise, this booth was also completely empty. I could now see the three booths that lined the right side of the building. All of them were empty. The only difference was that each booth was painted a different color. The first booth had been a pale yellow and now these three were muted shades of green, blue, and lavender.
I quickly walked through the three rooms and stepped into the first booth at the back of the store. By this time, I was not surprised that it was empty. It was a lovely shade of pink. I could hear voices in the next room and stepping through the door, I found myself in a cozy café. There were already several other women sitting around the tables chatting while partaking of scones and tea. I seemed to have arrived at a tea party.
The grandmotherly voice startled me once again, “Have a seat at that table and I will serve you.”
It was unnerving for this grandmotherly shopkeeper to keep appearing behind me. I managed a smile and head toward the empty seat she had indicated. She was close behind me, set a plate of scones at the table, and began pouring tea.
Smiling at the grandmotherly shopkeeper and now tea server, I said, “Since we have met twice now, let me introduce myself. My name is Agytha.”
The woman said her name and I wasn’t sure I heard correctly. “Did you say Time?”
She laughed and said, “Yes, but it is spelled Thyme—you know like the spice. Sometimes names aren’t spelled the way people expect.”
“No, they aren’t. My name sounds like Agatha but is spelled with the letter ‘y’ in the middle.”
“Names are interesting that way, aren’t they?” I had the strange sense that she already knew my name; that possibility caused me some discomfort but I dismissed the idea and picked up a scone.
The woman already seated at the table smiled and said, “My name sounds like Jane but is spelled J-a-y-n-e. That is just so strange that we all have ‘y’s in our names. Do you know why all the booths were empty?”
I shook my head ‘no’ and she continued, “I don’t know either. I also don’t know why my daughter suggested I come here.”
My surprise at this odd coincidence sent my sip of tea down my throat in the wrong direction and I dissolved into a coughing fit.
Finally, after regaining my composure, I replied, “Me too, my daughter suggested I come here also.”
Before Jayne could respond, a woman at the next table said, “Did you say your daughters told you to come here?”
It wasn’t long before every woman in the room shared a similar story. Try as they might, no one could find any other connection with anyone else in the room.
Just as the room was settling into a rather uncomfortable silence, Thyme appeared at the door. “You should all keep moving, you have just a few minutes left.”
Glancing at an entire wall of clocks perfectly set to the exact same time, I realized that quite a bit of time had been spent in the café. While I took my last sip of tea and gathered my purse, I wondered if the rest of the booths would also be empty.
Chapter Three: Booths
Stepping out of the café, I mentally made a bet with myself about whether the next booth would once again be empty. Both halves of me, bet on empty. They were both right. The booth was painted a rich shade of orange and was completely empty.
I now understood that the emptiness would not likely change. The layout of the store on this side seemed the same as I turned to walk through a series of three booths on the left side of the building. What was dramatically different were the rich jewel tones of the rooms: red, green, and blue. I had a hunch that the final room at the front of the building would be a deep shade of purple since the room diagonally across from it was a muted shade of lavender.
Our laughter at finding the first room empty upon leaving the café evolved in uncomfortable giggles when we walked into the purple room. We had completed a full tour of an empty antique store and had enjoyed a tea party along the way. It would be an interesting story to tell my husband. My daughter would need to give me an explanation for recommending I come.
Since I obviously had nothing to purchase, I smiled at Thyme, thanked her for the tea and scones and headed to the massive green door only to discover that the door handle wouldn’t turn. I pushed the door; it didn’t budge.
We appeared to be locked inside of the Green Door Antique Store.
Jayne was right behind me and said, “Here, let me try.” After a couple of tries, she turned and looked at the rest of the women and said, “The door is locked, Thyme will need to unlock it.”
All eyes turned toward the counter where Thyme stood smiling. In a cheery voice, she said, “I am so glad to welcome the new booth owners! I am excited to see what you do with the booths!
Stepping out from behind the counter, she held out paint swatches of the room colors and started going through the circle of women and handing a card to each one as she explained, “The stairs to the basement are right behind the clock. It is filled with every possible antique for your booths. There are several dumb waiters in the café that you can use to bring things up.”
Then pointing to a space beside the clock, she said, “We have these adorable Radio Flyer wagons to transport things from there to your booths. You have until dinner time to work. We will meet in the café’ at 6:00. I am planning a meal filled with comfort foods. I need to get to the kitchen and get busy.”
With that, she opened a hidden door behind the clock and vanished into the center of the building.
No one moved.
Another woman tried the door—to no avail.
The woman next to me seemed quite distraught and said, “We need to call 911, I think we have been kidnapped.”
“Good idea,” the woman behind her said. Everyone began digging in pockets and purses for cellphones only to collectively realize there was no cell service in the building.
The entryway exploded into agitated conversations.
Jayne—who we would quickly learn could speak with authority to calm those who were most agitated—spoke up. “Ok, we are not in imminent danger. Thyme seems quite harmless and caring. Since our daughters sent us here, it isn’t like no one knows where we are. We just need to go along with this until we figure out what is happening. It won’t do any good to panic.”
She was right. We needed to do what we had been asked to do. Spotting a stairway behind the massive clock, I shrugged off my concerns and announced that I was headed downstairs to explore the basement.
Chapter Four: The Y-Names
Just before I began to descend to the basement, Thyme appeared again through the hidden door. Scurrying over the desk behind the counter she shuffled around and emerged with markers and name tags.
“I forgot to give you name tags. That will help you get to know each other. You have a very interesting assortment of names.”
How did she know our names?
It felt almost comforting to identify ourselves in this way. Even though our lives seemed to have taken a strange shift, our names could remain the same. Moving toward the counter, we managed to all get our names on a card, place it in the plastic sleeve, and pin the nametag onto our blouses. Looking around, I said, “Maybe we should say our names, mine is Agytha.”
Jayne followed me, and by the time each one around the circle said their names on their nametags, we realized we all had a Y-name. This realization was followed by a long silent pause.
Shrugging my shoulders again, I murmured, “OK, that is just weird. I am going to the basement now.”
As if playing a magnificent game of follow the leader, the other Y-names fell in behind me as I headed down the stairs. We weren’t exactly young women so I was thankful we would not have to carry items up the stairs to the booths.
The stairway had a landing in the middle and when I turned to go down the second flight of stairs, the basement appeared in front of me. The massive room full of shelves was clearly going to fulfill my lifelong dream of finding an abandoned house filled with antique treasures.
To Be Continued . . .
Oh no! What happens next?!