Free Wildly Inappropriate by Eden Connor Page A

plain sheets.
    Cynda loved to poke around in other folk's stuff. Grams called it "plunderin'". She'd been in trouble a million times for nosing through a drawer at some friend of Grams', mostly, because old trinkets fascinated her. She knew it was wrong, but she adored seeing the things people kept tucked away, their treasured bits of costume jewelry or old love letters. She'd never take a thing, she just couldn't resist rummaging through such items.
    When she lifted the lid on the first trunk she came to, the soft scent of cedar drifted up to greet her. A wooden tray held pearls and rhinestone jewelry in elegant settings, along with carved tortoiseshell and ivory hair combs that delighted her. A mirror, hairbrush, and comb appeared to have black handles, but she realized they were silver-plated when she picked up the brush and rubbed at the finish. Long strands of light brown hair twined in the yellowed bristles of the brush and the same hair filled a china jar with a hole in the lid. Light powder beneath a fine screen filled a matching jar without a hole in the top.
    Spying a gold locket, she pried it open gently. The image was small, but she recognized the man from one of the photos downstairs. He held a baby in his arms and was smiling as if it was the happiest day of his life. On the opposite side, Daniel's full name and birth date were carved in a spidery hand. Rafael Daniel De Marco, 9 lbs, 7 oz. He was almost forty, she slowly figured out. Thirty-seven, if her math was right.
    The locket was engraved on the back as well. I love you, Rafe . Cynda turned the locket over again, studying the white christening gown and cap baby Daniel wore. He'd been a beautiful infant but she grinned at the thought of what the adult man might say about seeing himself in a dress.
    He hadn't thrown his mother's things out , she thought sadly, recalling what he'd said about his father forgetting everything except getting her back. In spite of the stifling heat, Cynda settled onto her feet, prepared to sweat a bit in return for the chance to plunder through the feminine treasures to her heart's content.
    A silvery locket turned up, with three little frames that folded open. The same man held three different babies, each wearing the same dress and cap. The inscription on the back was the same, too. I love you, Rafe. The inside of the locket was engraved with tiny names, and Cynda had to squint to read them. Eric Chapman. Colton Scott. Sarah Camille.
    Eventually she replaced the trinkets and lifted the tray. Cynda gasped with delight as stiff net crinolines sprang up to meet her. Soft dresses made of fine cotton, trimmed with elegant lace, ribbons, and embroidery lay neatly folded in stacks.
    Choosing was difficult, there were so many pretty things in the trunk, but she settled on a dress the color of the peachy flowers that smelled so good. She selected a second one because it matched his house. She took the prettiest net crinoline after deciding it would fit beneath the full circle skirt of the yellow dress. Eventually the stifling air drove her to fill her arms with every dress she thought might fit and she left the attic to get the assortment of clothing washed and dried while she started cleaning the downstairs.
     
    * * * *
     
    Dan was halfway to his goal of figuring out how much state tax the shop had collected in June when he heard the metal back door of the shop bang against the wall. He cocked his head toward the office door and listened, easing open the drawer holding one of his pistols. Colton was in Gatlinburg with his girlfriend Lila Walker. Eric had taken their nephew Jonah, who lived with Colton, to Myrtle Beach for the weekend. Eric swore he was taking Jonah deep sea fishing, but Dan figured unless there was a charter boat run by women wearing bikinis, Eric and his thirteen-year-old nephew were most likely lounging on the beach watching the girls go by.
    "Dan!" He heard Colton's yell from the service area.
    "In the office," he