Will Ray's Arc

Chapter 2 of 6

The next morning Will opened the store and stared at the empty cash drawer. Rent was paid, but the shop had nothing left. The month's bills were coming, and three cats and Aj still needed food this week. He needed money fast, and the polished shelves of wine and cheese moved too slow to help. He lit a cigarette and thought about what he owned that he could sell. Will remembered his father's box. It sat in the back, full of old pocket watches, a brass compass, and coins the old man had collected for years. Will had never touched them. Now he loaded the box into his truck and drove to the antique shop crammed floor to ceiling with old books and odd treasures. If anyone paid cash today, it was the man who dealt in dead men's things. The shopkeeper worked behind a narrow counter, wiping a lamp with a rag. He was thin and slow, with reading glasses pushed up on his forehead. He did not look up when the bell rang. "We're browsing today, not buying," he said. "Unless you brought me something I can't find anywhere else." Will set the box on the counter. The man put his glasses down and went through it, piece by piece. He held each watch to the light. He turned the coins over with one finger. His face gave nothing away. Will's face gave nothing either. His eyes shifted from blue to green while he waited. "Watches are common," the man said. He pushed most of the box aside. Then he stopped at the brass compass and a single silver coin. He weighed the coin in his palm. "These two, I'll take. The rest is scrap to me." He named a price. It was not much, but it was cash today. Will thought of Aj carrying the striped cat, of the empty food bowls, of the bills stacking up. He nodded once. The man counted the bills onto the counter and slid the two pieces into a drawer. Will drove straight to the roadside stop where the fuel pumps hummed under the coffee sign. He bought cat food and a bag of groceries with the cash. He kept enough back for one tank of gas and a pack of cigarettes. It was enough for this week. It was not enough for the month. That evening Will carried the bags to the green door. Aj opened it before he knocked, the striped cat on her shoulder. "You brought food," she said, and smiled like a child. He set the bags inside and did not tell her the money came from his father's box. They would eat this week. But he had sold what he could not replace, and the store still had nothing for next month's bills. To keep them fed for good, he had to make the shop earn again, and fast.