Metamorphosis

Part IV

A New Horizon

Trixie unlocked the door then slipped into the back room of Ingram’s Antiques. Comforted by the sound of Imogene’s movements at the front counter, she looked around the room, appreciating the neatly stacked and labeled boxes that were ready to ship and the worktable full of items that needed to be catalogued. After plopping her bag on the old library table she used as her desk, Trixie pulled her work apron over her head. She paused, perplexed by what was expected of her in her new role. Now that she was managing the popular establishment,  would Imogene expect her to act differently?  She glanced down at her worn, comfortable jeans.  Would she have to dress differently?   Trixie shuddered at the thought of having to dress up every day to come to work.

“Gleeps! Why can’t there be an instruction sheet or manual?”

Recalling the conversation between herself and Imogene, Trixie couldn’t suppress the faint smile that spread across her face.

Imogene: Trixie, dear, I need to talk to you.

Trixie: Sure.  Is something wrong?

Imogene  (laughing): Of course not.  Come, let’s go over to The Hideaway and grab some tea and brownies.

Trixie: You don’t have to ask me twice.

Trixie as she fell in behind Imogene who led the way to the neighboring restaurant. After settling themselves at a table, Imogene gave Trixie a serious look.

Imogene: Dear, I’ve been thinking.

Trixie nodded and looked uncertain,  her stomach beginning to tie itself up, unsure of what her friend and boss might say.

Imogene: And I think it’s high time you became the manager of the shop.

Trixie (her mouth falling open):  You want me to be the manager?  But why?

Imogene: Trixie, I am extremely busy with the shop, the restaurant and the garden center.  I want each place to run like clockwork so I don’t have to worry about it.  You’ve proven yourself over and over.  I can’t think of anybody else I’d want running this shop.

Trixie (nodding slowly):  But what would I have to do?

Imogene (sipping her tea):  Exactly what you’re doing now, plus I’d want you to oversee the part-time help and hire when necessary.

Trixie: I guess I could do that.

Imogene (chuckling):You already are.  Now you’ll have the title and additional salary to match.

Trixie (eyes widening): Additional salary?

Imogene:  Of course.

Trixie: Then I say yes.

Imogene: Perfect!

Trixie: But what will you do?

Imogene (smiling): Don’t you worry about me.  I have my eye on that cute little cafe on Main Street.  I think “Imogene’s Tea House” has quite a ring to it.  Don’t you?

* * * * * * * * *

And with that, Trixie took over the management of Ingram’s Antiques which allowed Imogene to pursue her newest venture in Sleepyside.

“Imogene,” called out Trixie as she traipsed through the main aisle that led through the store to the front counter.

“Oh, Trixie!” exclaimed Imogene, standing at the front counter, the telephone receiver in her hand.

“What? Is something wrong?”

“Yes.  No.” Imogene shook her head.  “I mean, there’s just so much to do before they arrive.”

“Before who arrives?”

“The television people.”

“What television people?” demanded a confused Trixie

Imogene waved her hand dismissively in the air.  “You know.  The television people.”

Trixie grabbed Imogene by the shoulders and turned her around so that she was facing her.  “What are you talking about, Imogene?  I don’t know anything about television people.”

“Oh, dear.”  Imogene played with a large rhinestone brooch that was pinned to her work apron. “I suppose I should start at the beginning.”

“That would certainly help.” Trixie went over and unlocked the front door,  flipped the sign that indicated they were open, then returned to Imogene.  “Okay, let’s have it.”

“Remember that old nurse’s uniform that you bought at an estate sale earlier in the week?”

Trixie nodded.

“When I was going through the box it was in, I found an old blood transfusion kit underneath it, at the bottom.”

Trixie frowned.  “Ew. Gross.”

“My dear, you found a uniform from WWI. That was a valuable find. The transfusion kit was a huge bonus.”

“Really?  Why?”

“It’s a wonderful glimpse into our past.  Field medicine, at that time, was just beginning to be recognized as vitally important. I mentioned your find at my Bunco game the other night and the ladies thought it would make a good story for the local news.  Obviously, one of them tipped off the news station and they want to come here today and do a story on it.”

Trixie’s mouth dropped open. “Gleeps!  Then I guess I have a lot to do before they get here.”

Imogene nodded. “Find out everything you can about nurses and medical standards during WWI.”

Her head nodding, Trixie slid the computer keyboard away from Imogene and began rapidly typing.  “First, I’m going to find out all I can about WWI so you’ll know the necessary facts, then I’ll call the family from whom we bought the uniform. They might have some interesting anecdotes you can include in the interview.”

“Sounds perfect, dear.  But you made one mistake.”

“What?” Trixie paused, her fingers hovering over the keyboard.

“I won’t be doing the interview.” Imogene smiled coyly.  “You will.”

“Me?” gasped Trixie.  “Why?”

“My dear, you’re the manager now.  You have to step up and take more responsibility and if that means doing a human interest interview, then that’s what you’ll have to do.  Besides, I’m pretty sure viewers would much rather look at you than at me.”

Trixie shook her head vigorously. “No. I can’t do that. I wouldn’t know what to say. I wouldn’t know how to act. And look at my hair.”

Imogene laughed. “That’s why you’ll do your background research and sleuthing this morning. And your hair looks perfect.” She stepped away from the counter. “I’m going to go to the back room and check for any online orders while you get to work.”

Slightly dazed, Trixie watched dust motes dancing in a sunbeam for a second, then returned her attention to the computer in front of her, eager to get her research started. For the next hour, Trixie found herself living on the uncomfortable battlefields of WWI. She learned about the terrible health risks to soldiers from being gassed and dying in the trenches and how difficult it was to prevent the diseases that accompanied trench warfare. She was dismayed to learn that nurses, although providing an extremely valuable service, were often treated badly and had little to no recognition of the relief they brought. Then she studied the devastating effects of the Spanish Flu and how it took the lives of so many soldiers.

“Whew!” said Trixie as she closed out a webpage. “Why didn’t I learn any of this in history class? Imagine being a nurse and yet being treated like you had no knowledge or education about medicine.”

Hopping off the stool, Trixie dashed next door to The Hideaway, and got herself a cup of tea. Then she returned and made herself a list of the tasks a nurse would be expected to perform during her service. Satisfied with her online research, Trixie then placed a call to the family to see if they could provide any additional information about the owner of the nurse’s uniform. When she hung up the phone, Trixie sat silently, sad at what she had learned about the young nurse.

“How’s it coming, Trixie?” asked Imogene, interrupting the young girl’s thoughts.

“Not so great.” Trixie twisted around to look at Imogene. “I talked to the family and learned something really sad.”

“What was that?”

“The nurse who wore the uniform, Florence, survived the war but then came home, caught the flu and died.”

Saddened by the update, Imogene stared out the front window. “Imagine,” she murmured, “doing such heroic work, surviving the terrible conditions only to come home and succumb to the flu.”

Standing beside her, Trixie nodded. “Imogene, are you sure you don’t want to do the interview? You always know exactly what to say.”

“No, my dear. It’s time for you to step forward.” She glanced at the clock on the counter. “The news people will be here in about an hour.”

“Great!” muttered Trixie. “I can begin counting down the minutes I have left of my life.”

“Trixie!” scolded Imogene.

“Sorry, but I know when I go on television and make a complete and total fool of myself, I’ll have to go into hiding or leave town, maybe even change my name.”

Raising her brows, Imogene stared at Trixie over the glasses that perched at  the end of her nose. “Really? You’re going to get that dramatic over this?”

“Fine,” sighed Trixie. “But don’t blame me if I get all mixed up and tell everybody that the nurse’s uniform was from the Civil War and the woman ultimately died from a dog bite.”

Shaking her head at Trixie’s theatrics, Imogene left the front counter and went to assist a couple who was interested in purchasing a dining room set. While tidying up, Trixie gave her notes a quick glance, then stuffed them into her apron pocket. Finally, she decided she was done fretting about the upcoming interview and skipped over to the restaurant to order herself a sandwich for lunch.

“Hi, Ian,” she said to the talented chef. “Can I get a sandwich to go?”

“Hey, Trixie,” Ian relied. “What do you want?”

“How about a BLT? No, wait, that has lettuce and that might get in my teeth. How about tuna salad? No, that might make my breath smell fishy. Ooh, I love your chicken salad but,” she sighed. “that always leaves little bits of chicken between my teeth too.”

“So, what do you want?” asked Ian, his pencil poised over an order pad.

“I don’t know,” wailed Trixie. “Imogene’s making me do a tv interview in a little while and I don’t want green or grey stuff stuck between my teeth. What do you suggest?”

“A toothbrush?” grinned Ian.

“Funny, real funny.”

“How about a veggie wrap with hummus?”

Trixie thought for a moment and nodded her head. “That sounds perfect but no lettuce.”

Ian got to work on the sandwich while Trixie pulled out her phone and sent a quick message to Tad explaining the morning’s events.

“Break a leg, Belden,” Tad replied.  “I know you’ll do a great job. Just be your usual adorable self.”

Trixie smiled when she read the text then frowned. “My usual adorable self,” she groused. “What’s that?”

An hour later, Trixie felt better. Her nerves had calmed considerably after eating her lunch and she quickly brushed her hair then pulled it back into a jaunty ponytail. She gave her lips a fresh swipe of gloss and straightened her apron, making sure the logo for Ingram’s Antiques was clearly visible.

“I guess I’m ready, Imogene,” Trixie called reluctantly as she returned to the front counter.

“And just in time, my dear. The television crew has arrived.”

Trixie peered out the front window at the shiny van that bore the name of a local television station. She watched as two men got out; one wearing a shirt and tie with a pair of khaki pants and the other in a sweatshirt and jeans. They both hauled some equipment from the back of the vehicle, then came into the shop. Imogene met the two at the door and, after a brief discussion, decided they could set up the camera shot in the corner near the entryway to the restaurant. Coming behind the front counter, Imogine patted her hair and smiled smugly.

“Might as well get some publicity for the restaurant as well.”

Trixie chuckled.  “Good call, Imogene. Anything else I can do?”

Imogene studied Trixie for a minute then nodded. “You look great, dear. And the only thing you can do is your job. So gather your notes and thoughts because I believe they’re almost ready for you. I’ll run to the back and grab the uniform and the blood transfusion kit then you can display them for the camera.”

Trixie watched the two men adjust the lighting where the interview was to take place. They dragged over a nearby table that Trixie had cleared earlier. When Imogene returned with the items, Trixie took them and spread them out on the table. As she was finishing, she felt a tap on her shoulder.

“Yes?” she said as she spun around.

“Are you the person I’ll be interviewing?”

Nodding, Trixie held out her hand. “I’m Trixie Belden.”

The man took her hand and shook it. “I’m Adam Trent and that’s my camera man Dominic.

Trixie tilted her head in surprise upon hearing the familiar name of the reporter who had been unkind to the Bobwhites years before. “Trent? Are you related to Paul Trent?”

Adam held up his hands. “Yes, but please don’t hold me accountable for my uncle’s numerous sins.”

Trixie grinned. “Deal!”

Adam explained to Trixie how he wanted the interview to go. He gave her a preview of the questions he planned to ask, making sure she had answers prepared. Then he stepped away to smooth his hair and check his make-up. Trixie, feeling her nerves starting to speak up, gave her lips another swipe with her lip gloss then took a deep breath.

“Now remember, Trixie, if there’s anything you don’t like, we can always re-shoot it,” advised Adam.

“Got it.”

“You ready?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s get to work.”

With the camera in place, Dominic turned on the bright light. Adam took his microphone and stood ready, waiting for Dominic’s signal. When Dominic gave a firm nod of his head, Adam started speaking.

Trixie stood by and waited for her cue, her fists clenched nervously as Adam recounted the story of how Imogene chose Sleepyside for the location of Ingram’s Antiques. He then talked about the various items one could find at the shop and how many historical treasures make their way onto the shelves. Suddenly, the light focused on Trixie and Adam’s microphone appeared in front of her face.

“So, tell us about this unique item your shop acquired,” he said.

“Um, well, uh, the other day I went to an estate sale and uh…” Trixie’s voice started out weak and squeaky then gained strength as Trixie focused on her tale and not on the camera or the microphone. As she relaxed, the facts she had gathered earlier rolled off her tongue and soon she was chatting as naturally with Adam as she did her own family. Her eyes sparkled as she showed off the blood transfusion kit and explained how it worked. She laughed when Adam had her hold the nurse’s uniform against her own body, showing the audience how a long, white dress would be an impediment to the demands of a field nurse during wartime. As Trixie was carefully laying the uniform back on the table and smoothing it out, Adam again faced the camera, summed up the interview, then signed off. As soon as the light clicked off, he turned to Trixie.

“That was great!” he said.

Blushing, Trixie stuttered. “Thanks, but …”

“You’re a natural at this.”

Trixie shook her head.  “You mean I’m a natural at chatting. Yes, I believe my parents noted that a few million times in my life.”

Adam laughed. “No. This was a great interview. We should come back here again and see what else you guys have.”

“Let me show you around,” offered Trixie.

Leading Adam and Dominic around, she pointed out the various items she thought they would find interesting. Then she took them over to the restaurant and introduced them to Ian who gave them samples of his delicious creations that were part of the restaurant’s menu. Finally, the three returned to the corner in the antique shop where Dominic quickly packed up the equipment. Imogene appeared and held out her hand to Adam and Dominic.

“Thank you so much. From where I stood while you were filming, it looks like you got some good shots of the uniform and of my shop.”

Dominic nodded. “We did. And your decision to have Trixie do the interview was a smart one; the camera loved her. I can’t wait to get back to the studio and get it edited for tonight’s broadcast.”

“If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to give either myself or Trixie a call.”

“We won’t,” answered Adam. “And as I told Trixie, I think we should come back here and do another segment. There are tremendous pieces here that make good filler stories.”

“Filler stories?” questioned Imogene.

“You know, on a slow news night, we like to keep fresh human interest stories around so we can fill the hour.”

“Ahhh.” Imogene nodded her head. “Then I’d be quite pleased to participate in that.”

When the door closed behind the men, Trixie sagged onto the stool behind the front counter.

“Whew! I’m glad that’s over and done with.”

“But my dear, you were fabulous.” Imogene stood across from Trixie on the other side of the counter.

“‘Fabulous’ sounds like a rather strong word, Imogene. I might choose the word ‘boring’ or ‘slow.’”

Imogene shook her head. “No, my original word stands. I can’t wait to see the news tonight.” She suddenly snapped her fingers. “I know. We can have a ‘watch party’ in the restaurant so we can all see it together.”

Trixie eyed Imogene suspiciously. “And who is ‘all?’”

“You, me, Tad, Mart, Ian and whatever part-timers are around. Everybody needs to know what is in this interview in case customers come in and want to talk about it.”

Sighing loudly, Trixie pulled out her phone to text her boyfriend. “Fine. But just as long as you all don’t laugh together. That would be too much noise for this space.”

“There’ll be no laughing, only genuine admiration.” Imogene hurried to the restaurant to set up the dinner with Ian.

After Trixie had texted Tad, she made a quick call to her mother to let her know about the interview. Then she tried to get back to work but was unable to settle down. She kept replaying parts of the interview in her mind and wished she had worded things differently or had had a snappier reply.

“Gleeps,” she moaned softly. “I already hate seeing myself in photographs. I can only imagine the horror of seeing myself on television.”

A string of late-day customers kept Trixie busy until it was time to close the shop. By dividing up the day-end procedures, she and Imogene were able to complete them more quickly. Trixie had just shut down the computer when she heard a small tap at the front door.

“Tad!”  She unlocked the door and let him in.

“So, how’s my favorite star?” He gave Trixie a kiss.

“I don’t know. How is your favorite star? And who is your favorite star?” She looked up at Tad quizzically.

“Tsk! Tsk!” Tad shook his head. “How could it be anybody but you?”

Trixie scowled.  “I would think it would be anybody but me.”

Before Tad could respond, Mart strolled up from the back of the shop, where he had entered.

“So, Imogene said you had a majuscule discussion today. I guess your more esteemed sibling will determine that,” he said.

“You do that, Mart,” snapped Trixie. “I personally prefer not to watch it.”

“Uh-oh!” Mart slapped his forehead. “You didn’t fall off the stage again, did you?”

Trixie stuck out her tongue at her brother just as Imogene walked up to the front counter.

“Oh, my. Are the Beldens squabbling again?” She shook her head at the siblings, then held out her arm to Tad, who escorted her into The Hideaway.

Frowning at her brother, Trixie followed while Mart, whistling tunelessly, trailed behind. Inside the restaurant, they found seats around the large table that had a perfect view of the television Imogene had wheeled in. Two servers delivered fresh bread from the kitchen then got everybody their drinks. The arrival of a huge Caesar salad and a platter of sandwiches and wraps brought a loud cheer from the gathered group. They all dug in while keeping an eye on the television, waiting for the specific spot to begin.

Suddenly, Imogene shushed everybody. “Here it is,” she announced excitedly.

For the next several minutes, everybody watched as Trixie discussed the nurse’s uniform and blood transfusion kit with Adam Trent. Trixie’s enthusiasm and excitement came across as genuine and her smile and sparkling eyes made for a great camera presence. When the interview was over, a cheer went up around the table.

“Trixie, that was wonderful,” gushed Imogene. “Your interview was far better than anything I could have ever done.”

Mart nodded. “I hate to admit it, but that interview did proceed exceedingly well and you outshined Adam Trent immensely.”

Sitting next to Tad, Trixie felt herself blushing. She reached for Tad’s hand and received a reassuring squeeze.

“It was perfect, Belden,” added Tad. “I can’t believe you were so stressed about it.”

Ian and the wait staff chimed in their praises, adding to Trixie’s discomfort. Finally she held up her hands.

“Enough. Interview is over and done. Now let’s finish these delicious sandwiches. And Ian, as usual, you and your staff did a great job with the food.”

The rest of the meal passed pleasantly with advice offered to Mart about the garden center and thoughts for new items on the restaurant's menu that would reflect the changing season.

At last, the dinner was over. Ian and his crew scurried into the kitchen where they quickly cleaned up. Mart exited through the back door and headed home, saying he had to complete his payroll. Imogene left and then Tad and Trixie went out the back door of the antique shop.

“So, what did you really think?” asked Trixie, once the two were alone in her car.

“What did I think?” Tad’s eyes were wide with amazement. “I thought you did an awesome job. I can’t believe how natural you are in front of the camera. And,” he kissed her softly, “you’re pretty hot too.”

Trixie rolled her eyes. “I sincerely hope I’ve heard the last of this stupid interview.”

Tad laughed. “You can hope all you want but I bet conversations about this interview are just beginning.”

“Yuck!”

Still discussing the day’s event, the two headed to Trixie’s apartment.

* * * * * * * * * *

In the quiet television studio, the producer walked through the nearly empty facility. Most of the night time staff had taken a break for dinner, a typical occurrence between the early newscast and the late one. Returning to his small, cramped office, he rewound the interview between Trixie and Adam. After watching it three more times, he switched off the monitor and leaned back in his chair, nodding his head thoughtfully.

“She’s perfect for the job,” he said softly.

Meanwhile, back at Trixie’s cozy apartment, she and Tad snuggled together on her couch, oblivious to the plans being made for Trixie in another part of town.

*********************************************

Word Count - 3845

Author’s notes:  I claim no ownership of Trixie, Tad and the rest of the gang.  I big thank you to my sister, Judith, for her editing and encouragement and to my DD for her final editing. Picture by me! Background by Vivian.