Antiques Fate by Barbara Allan

out, except for Celia, who stayed behind to lock up.
    Rather than cut across the village green to the inn, Mother and I decided to take the sidewalk, going left out of the center along Brighton Street, then right on Manchester, stopping every now and then to gaze in a storefront window.
    We were crossing a narrow alley between a haberdashery and a pub when I happened to look down that alley.
    Beneath a security light were Digby and Chad, conducting their own private meeting.
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    A Trash ‘n’ Treasures Tip
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    Keep valuable prints and watercolor paintings where the sunlight won’t fade them. This includes indirect sunlight, which, over time, can also cause damage. That’s why Mother once hung her favorite watercolor in a closet, enjoying it only when she put on or hung up her clothes.

Chapter Four
    O, What May Man Within Him Hide
    D earest ones!
    This is Vivian (aka Mother) taking a turn at the wheel (metaphorically speaking, since I am currently navigating life’s highways sans driver’s license). I am thrilled to my toes that my chapter has been placed so early in this tome, allowing us to get to know each other better sooner.
    Usually the chapter I’ve been allotted is unfairly positioned midpoint, by which time my daughter Brandy’s through-her-end-of-the-telescope view of the One Who Raised Her may have unfairly colored your opinion of moi . She is a lovely girl, very smart, often helpful, but I’m afraid somewhat lacking in imagination.
    Unfortunately, I will have to forgo my usual rebuttal of Brandy’s occasionally inaccurate and often exaggerated accounts of what she terms as my “antics,” because doing so would cut into my editorially imposed word count (five thousand per chapter).
    I feel I must, however, sacrifice precious wordage to correct Brandy’s highly exaggerated account in which she has me supposedly taking a tumble off the stage during a musical production of Everybody Loves Opal and getting my foot stuck in a tuba. That is patently absurd! (It was a trombone.)
    It is vital, when an author is given a word count limitation, to get immediately to the point, and in order to accomplish this goal, one must carefully choose the perfect words and assemble them in just the right order.
    Toward that end, I truly relish using forgotten words . . . like inveigle, jingoistic, and imbroglio . The dumbing-down of our language has resulted in a tragic loss of our syntactic heritage! You would-be writers out there, please note that I will occasionally be peppering my writing with “five-dollar” words—but not to worry! Should a meaning elude you, you need not traverse this chapter with Daniel Webster by your side—you will have Vivian Borne to guide you! To provide you change for your five.
    This reminds me of the time we presented my modernization of “The Devil and Daniel Webster” at the Serenity Community Playhouse, in which I played the title role. No, not the devil—“Diane” Webster. I must have had a dozen audience members go out of their way after to tell me they’d seen nothing like it before.
    Where was I?
    Yes! The need to stay on point.
    Friday morning, while Brandy and Sushi slept in, I arose with the dawn and, after a Spartan (austere) breakfast of coffee and scone in the inn’s dining room, I set out to perambulate (walk around) the town.
    As I stepped out of the inn into the zephyr (soft, gentle breeze), our innkeeper Seabert was reconfiguring the latest prankster anagram on the outside stand. The sepulchral (gloomy) man frowned at me and remarked querulously (complaining/whining), “I’d like to get my hands on whoever keeps changing our sign.”
    ( Editor to Vivian : Okay . . . this isn’t working. Please stop.)
    ( Vivian to Editor : What isn’t working?)
    ( Editor to Vivian : Using little-known words, then defining them parenthetically, which slows down the pace of the narrative.