Found Pieces

It had taken Joyce twenty minutes to arrive on Main Street in Sunnydale. She pulled up to the parking meter by the Espresso Pump and parked her black jeep Cherokee. Unbuckling her belt and opening her door thinking, "What I need is a distraction from my future distraction. If I have a cup of coffee in my hand I have an extra prop as I walk into the shop." She also had no idea where the shop was located. The quickest way to find out was to look for an announcement in the newspaper.

It was a pleasant afternoon with the sun shining brightly. Joyce stood by the parking meter putting in a quarter. It felt good to be out and well dressed. She loved the sound of her heels on the pavement. In the last few years she had stopped dressing with serious care. She never really wanted to compete with her daughter or be a Stepford Mom.

Joyce was not one for wandering aimlessly along the streets of Sunnydale, even though honestly there were not that many streets. Buffy liked to do walk-abouts and such but Joyce couldn't manage that too well. When Buffy was walking about she was scoping the town for any sign of trouble or really specifically where her services would be needed.

Joyce knew if she were to drive slowly looking left and right for the shop there would be a good chance that someone she knew would come up and want to chat. She was always running into someone who wanted to showcase their art in the gallery. There art was invariably a "found piece". Usually the work was something from their basement and undoubtedly from some ritual Buffy and the scoobies had stopped. The artist never really knew what they were holding. Sometimes an effigy to bring about the god of chaos or any number of snake demons.

As Joyce walked into the Espresso Pump she wondered why there were just so many snake demons. It had to be because of the religious connection of snakes to the devil and dark magic. Joyce gave a small shudder as she thought of all the things she was involved in courtesy of simply loving her oldest daughter.

Joyce went forth and purchased a medium vanilla latte and a copy of the Sunnydale Press, afternoon edition. She stood beside a tall bar stools and high table and dismantled the paper. Front page, Cars, Real Estate, a separate pull out just for Obituaries and at last the Business section. Flipping the fold out over Joyce went down to the new business ventures sections. Just as she expected there was a small profile of Antique Shopkeeper, Duncan MacLeod. 6 years ago Joyce had been profiled in the same column. There was a small photograph of Duncan MacLeod, left profile of course. The photo showed a long dark ponytail and half of a gentle upturned smile. While the handsome face with its five o'clock shadow definitely entranced Joyce she was more interested in the hair clip. While she wasn't fully sure it seemed the decorative clip was designed as letters from an ancient language. Definitely intriguing.

Joyce scanned the article. It was the same trite that had been written for her years ago with the relevant words modified. The purpose of the article was really to announce to Sunnydale that there was a new business in town not to provide any special insight into the history of the business owner's life. It wasn't meant to be a personal ad. Joyce swallowed a guffaw and read on. Apparently, this Duncan was (lordy she was already thinking of him as Duncan and she had yet to meet the man!) migrated down from Seacover where he had owned and operated a Antique shop/gallery for a few years. Looking for a change he moved to Sunnydale. Duncan specialized in antique weaponry and one of a kind furniture. Duncan was also interested in opening a Dojo and was currently looking for a suitable space. "Dojo" Joyce said aloud. Hmm. This man and his shop were definitely worth checking out. At the end of the article it gave his address as D. MacLeod Antiques, 524 W. Main Street.

So that was where she was heading. The shop was conveniently located right near where Buffy was doing an internship for her Psychology major, the Center for Troubled Youth. Joyce could even stop in after she finished scoping—wrong word—shopping at D. MacLeod Antiques.