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"Oh, why don't you pull up here, darling?" Ellie said. "That looks like a nice place to get a souvenir from."
Her husband complied reluctantly and parked right in front of a small, quaint little store. Compared to the posh and modern establishments that flanked it, it looked positively ancient. The storefront window had old-fashioned lettering that was chipped and no longer spelled out anything remotely legible. The wares offered were a jumbled collection of knick-knacks with no particular sense or order, except that they looked like authentic antiques. Ellie reckoned that without the dust and a good polish, some of them could turn out to be quite a find.
With that in mind, Ellie got out of the car and entered the store, her husband close behind, groaning at his wife's insistence. The little bell on the door rang to announce their arrival.
"Hello?" Ellie called out into the darkness of the place. The lack of windows inside made it difficult to see and the air smelled musty and stale, like it often does when something's been locked up for a long time.
"Anyone here?" she called out again. She wandered further inside, sliding in between towers of stacked books and porcelain vases.
"Maybe they're closed? It is obscenely early," her husband complained. Ellie scoffed and continued exploring.
"Oh, hush. It's only a quarter to eight in the morning Harry, and no, I don't think so. The door was open, so-"
"Can I help you?"
The voice, while soft, came out of nowhere and startled the pair so that they knocked over a couple of books, causing an entire column of them to tumble loudly to the ground. Harry clutched his chest as if trying to keep his heart from bursting out of sheer fright while Ellie tried frantically to reconstruct the tower of books, all the while profusely apologising.
"Oh dear! I'm so sorry! The door was open a-and we thought you were-" Ellie stumbled on her words, but the person before them simply held up a hand and smiled.
"It's OK," the slender, red-haired young man said. "I'm George. What can I do you for?"
George's smile was warm and welcoming. Ellie felt her muscles relax. She glanced over to her husband, who seemed to also be coming down from his trepidation. "We were just passing by this cute little town and I really didn't want to leave without getting a little something, you know, to remember our trip by."
"Oh, I see," George nodded. He gestured towards the interior of the store. "Well then, please be my guest. I'll be here behind the counter if you need anything," he announced and walked away to stand behind it.
Ellie and Harry thanked him and made their way further inside the store, letting their eyes wander on George's strange collection of artifacts. There were shelves upon shelves, stocked with an assortment of tea cups, no two alike; perhaps the missing pieces to incomplete sets somewhere else in the universe. Ellie ran her fingers over the smoothed, darkened brass of an old candelabrum while Harry picked up an old wooden pipe and studied it in the dusty light of the room. It was then that she noticed a glinting object out of the corner of her eye.
She picked it up. It was a painting. Ellie's breath caught in her chest.
"Oh, my, this is beautiful!"
"Hm?" Harry turned towards her, inquiring.
"Look, dear," Ellie flipped it around so her husband could see it. Harry lowered his glasses and focused his eyes on the picture. "Hm, yes, indeed. It's actually quite nice," he agreed.
"This one," Ellie announced, pleased. "Let's take this one, dear." Harry nodded.
They walked back to the counter with the painting in hand. George was writing something down, likely balancing his books. He looked up when he saw the couple approach him.
"Did you find anything you liked?" he asked. Ellie nodded, nearly giggling.
"Yes! This lovely painting!" she said, handing it over to George. However, when George's eyes settled on it, his expression turned grim.
"Are you sure?" he asked. His tone took Ellie aback somewhat, but before she could dig deeper into it, a phone rang.
"Oh, it's the upstairs one," George said. "I'm sorry, I need to take that. I'll be back in a bit. You can keep looking if you want." With that, he walked through the back door behind him and went up a flight of stairs.
Ellie watched him leave then turned to her husband who simply shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows, mouthing a silent ‘I don’t know.’
"You think he doesn't want to sell it?" she whispered to him, feeling the need to be inconspicuous for some reason.
"Haven't the faintest idea," Harry replied, running a hand through his hair, just as lost as his wife.
The re-opening of the backroom door startled them. Ellie guessed the call had been short and that George had come back to ring them up, but the person that had come out wasn't George. It was a young girl, long hair, as red as George's, face full of freckles.
"I hear you want to buy the painting?" she asked.
"Oh," Ellie gasped. "Yes, we would."
The girl smiled.
"I painted it."
"Oh really?" Ellie said, beaming. "It's wonderful, dear. You have real talent!"
"Hmm," Harry added curtly to the compliments. The girl seemed pleased with their accolades.
"Really? You think so?" She asked them. The couple nodded.
"Yes dear," Ellie said, giving the girl a warm smile. "You should go to art school. I’m certain you could have a future in the arts!"
"I did," said the girl, dropping her gaze to the floor. "I went and became an artist, but it didn't work out. Nobody liked my work. I never sold a single painting."
Ellie could hear the pain in the girl's voice. She looked down at the painting in her hands again, wondering how on earth anyone could overlook such a masterpiece. "I have no idea why anyone would think that, because this is just so incredible. I absolutely love it, but... George didn't seem too pleased with parting with it. Is he your brother?"
The girl nodded. "It was always my dream to sell one of my paintings. I said to myself, 'if I can sell just one, I'll finally be happy'."
"Well then, if you'll allow us the honour of purchasing it, we'll be your first patrons!" Harry said to the girl, who seemed to glow with happiness at the words.
"Yes. Thank you," she said to them with a smile and went in the back door again.
"Lovely young girl," Ellie said. Harry nodded. "I hope she sells more of her work. Such a waste to keep this talent hidden here."
Just then, George peeked his head back out the door and came back to the counter. "I'm really sorry about how long that took. I'm moving and closing up shop soon and the buyer and I are still in the thick of hashing out the details."
"Oh, is that so?" Ellie asked. "Then I suppose we're lucky to have stopped by before you did so we could get this gorgeous piece!"
George smiled at his customers and began punching in the sale in his register machine. "I honestly thought that thing would never sell. It's like a dream come true."
"Well, please thank the artist, your lovely sister, for me," Ellie said, clasping her hands, pleased.
George gave her an odd look. "How did you know I had a sister?"
"She was just out here. We talked about her artwork, her studies, and she agreed to let us buy her painting," Harry explained.
George stopped what he was doing and stood very still.
"That's impossible."
His demeanour made Ellie feel a chill run through her. "Why is it impossible?"
"Because my sister is dead. She died a year ago," George explained.
Ellie and Harry stood frozen, barely breathing, while George finished packing up the piece of artwork in newsprint paper and put it inside a bag while he talked. "She had dreamed of being an artist, but her health had always been too frail for the competitiveness of the business. It always broke my heart that she could never fulfil her dream, but now that you're taking her work, I feel like finally, she's happy. I can close up shop in peace."
Ellie's hand trembled as she took the bag from George. He gave them both a nod and sad smile as she and Harry scrambled out the door.
"Thank you. From me and my sister."