“Happy belated birthday to you.”
“Thank you, kind sir.” He semi-bows.
“I’m trying to find the woman who sang to you.” I rub my chin. “You wouldn’t happen to know who she is or how I can contact her, would you?”
He steps back. “Why?”
I take that as a positive sign. If he didn’t know the singer, he would have walked away by now.
“I tossed some change in her guitar case, and I think my daughter’s diary key went with it,” I explain. “She’s nine. I need to find that key.”
His lips curve into a grin. “I have a nine-year-old granddaughter. I think I know what you’re dealing with.”
“Do you know the singer’s name?”
“I can do one better than that.” He taps the brim of his hat. “I can tell you where you might find her today.”
I don’t have time for a wild goose chase around New York City at the moment, but I’ll take any insight he has.
“Go to Vinyl Crush.”
“Vinyl Crush?” I ask. “What’s that?”
“A record store.” He glances at his watch. “I need to run. I can’t be late for work. Go there and ask for Astrid. That’s the angel who sang to me.”
Astrid.
I extend a hand to him. “Thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure.” He takes my hand between both of his for a quick shake. “I hope you track down that key for your little girl.”
I hope to hell I do too.
Chapter Four
Astrid
I glance down at the black and white checkered tile that covers the floor of Vinyl Crush.
I still remember when I first walked into this store with my mom.
At the time, I didn’t appreciate the treasures that surrounded me. All I saw, as a ten-year-old kid, was the floor. I hopscotched my way around the rows and rows of wooden stands that hold thousands of new and used vinyl records.
I skipped right past the listening booth in the corner and never glanced up at the ornate chandeliers on the ceiling.
If I could go back in time, I would have stopped and stared at my mom with her long blonde hair and green eyes that mirror my own.
The day she took possession of Vinyl Crush was one of the proudest days of her life, and I didn’t see it then.
I didn’t understand it until a few weeks before she died.
“I’m sorry I can’t hang around until closing time, but fashion calls,” Eloise says as she buttons the handmade pink knit cardigan she just slipped on. “I can work tomorrow for a few hours in the afternoon if you need me.”
I need another employee because I know I’m wearing Eloise thin.
She relies on the money she makes here to help cover the rent at the apartment she shares with two of her friends from school. She tops that off with sales of her handmade knit goods online.
Her future isn’t going to be found in this store. I have to start preparing myself for that.
“I can handle tomorrow too.” I smile before I offer an alternative that I know will fit her schedule better. “Do you want to come in on Saturday?”
“I’d love to.” She adjusts the collar of her cardigan. “I’ll pop by on Friday afternoon to help with online orders. I can put in a few hours then too.”
“Perfect.” I dip a hand into the front pocket of my jeans to tug out a few bills. “Stop and get yourself some dinner on the way home.”
She waves the money away. “One of my roommates is cooking a feast tonight, so I’m good. I can run and grab some take-out for you if you’re hungry.”
I have leftover take-out in my fridge, which just happens to be two floors up from where I’m standing. My apartment is above the record store. It’s another of the many things I inherited when my mom passed away.
“I have dinner covered.” I gesture toward the door of the shop. “You have things to knit. Get to it.”
Her laughter fills the air. “You’re the best boss ever, Astrid.”
“I’m the only boss you’ve ever had,” I point out.
“True, but still.” She moves to plant a soft kiss on my cheek. “I love you. Close up right at eight. Lock both deadbolts and text me before you go to sleep.”
“Will do, and I love you too.”
With that, she takes off in a sprint toward the door before she disappears into the foot traffic on the sidewalk outside the store.
I turn to glance at the front of the store when the bell above the door rings.
It’s almost six.
Since Eloise left an hour ago, I’ve been sorting through a large box of records that I bought from an online auction.
Several are already spoken for. Some of my regular clientele have long wish lists of records that they’ve been on the hunt for. Whenever I come across one, I set it aside for them.