Free Perfection #3 by Claire Adams Page B

Bullet
mentioned, the Blue Lake Bar. A neon sign flashed above the door—it was a curled
wave with a beer sitting in the center of it. Well that was pretty
self-explanatory. We did not stop there but continued on to a candy shop, and a microbrewery next. I was surprised at the amount
of tourists that were walking along the sidewalks and checking out the shops.
“Yes, these aren’t just for Blue Lake tourists. People from surrounding areas
come here too because of all the unique outlets. You’ll see in just a minute.
They have a guy here that can sculpt anything with a chainsaw. Now that’s doing
some surgery.” As if she heard us talking, Bullet’s assistant called his phone.
He stepped away for a minute leaving me to window shop in front of a thrift
store. I found some things that interested me, like an antique violin case so I
waved at him to let him know that I was going inside.
    I stepped into the shop and it was like stepping
back in time. A turn-of-the-century dressmaker’s dummy stood in the window and
a collection of lace gloves lay on a nearby velvet
covered display case. They reminded me of Kate who loved all things lacey. I
looked at the tag. That seemed reasonable and Christmas was only a few months
away. Before I made the purchase I had to check out the violin. What were the
chances that this instrument would be in good working order?
    “Ma’am, I was wondering, may I open this case? I
would like to see the condition of the instrument.” The shopkeeper walked around
the counter to the display I stood next to . I had not
noticed before but she was wearing Victorian era clothing, a long skirt and a long-sleeved
shirt with ruffles at the neck and the wrists. Her hair was piled into a Gibson
girl style and she looked like someone who stepped right out of the past. I
think the fact that she did not wear any makeup made her look even more like an
antique.
    “Yes, it is a lovely instrument. I think that you
will find that it works beautifully. Do you play, dear?” She had a lovely soft,
feminine voice. She opened the case carefully and gently lifted the violin out
of the velvet lined box. The instrument shone in the light. I turned it over
looking for cracks but found none. This was not a violin for an adult; rather
this piece was for a child. I found it all that much more endearing knowing
that this beautiful instrument probably had been handled by a child that lived
during the turn-of-the-century. We should never forget the children of the
past. I pushed back images of my little sister, her stringy blonde hair and her
trusting dark eyes. I plucked at a string and then another. Of course these
needed to be replaced but the instrument itself was perfect.
    “Did you find something interesting?” Bullet slid
his phone in his pocket and touched the violin gently with his fingers.
    “It is a child’s violin. Turn-of-the-century,
probably one from a local school, a music school that closed in the 50s. It is a nice piece to have for a collector of antique musical instruments.
Although, I bet this young lady could coax some sound out of it. You look like
you know how this is played, my dear.”
    “Yes, please play something.” Bullet looked curious
and I had to admit I felt like showing off a little. I was tired of him having
the upper hand when it came to careers. The instrument was smaller than the one
I normally handled by not by much.
    “The strings seem a little weak. I wouldn’t want to
break one,” I said to the shopkeeper as I lifted the bow and the violin.
    “No worries about that my dear. My husband knows how
to replace a violin string. He can play every instrument in the shop and I have
quite a few. Go ahead, play something.”
    “All right, if you’re sure.” I played the Vivaldi piece
since it was the one I had been rehearsing most recently. I closed my eyes at
the beginning, pretending that I was by myself. I always did that unless I was
performing — then you didn’t dare close your