N. Walters - Embroidered Fantasies

Thank you to all the fans of the Tapestries series. You all keep asking for more and I can’t seem to stop writing them.

As always, my thanks to my husband, who inspires me daily with his love and support.

Trademarks Acknowledgment

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Dorothy: Turner Entertainment Co.

The Wizard of Oz: Turner Entertainment Co.

Roxanne Sykes stood in the middle of the crowded field and smiled. Such a small feat for most people but such a huge one in her world. There was a time when she’d thought she might never feel happy again.

Her smile faltered. She would not think about him. Not now. She summoned all her mental strength and pushed all thoughts of her ex-husband and her life with him into the dark recesses of her mind. He was in prison and couldn’t hurt her. Not any longer.

She now lived life on her own terms, doing what she wanted, when she wanted. And right now her plan was to enjoy the gigantic flea market spread in front of her like an exotic feast for the senses.

Michael would never have allowed her to go to such an event. Buying other people’s garbage, he called it. Not that her ex-husband had either taste or style. He’d figured a large-screen television and a leather sofa held together with duct tape was the height of decorating.

“Stop it,” she muttered. She didn’t want to think about her ex. The day was warm but not too hot. There was a breeze off the ocean that kept it cool enough to be enjoyable.

She checked her purse for the tenth time. She had one hundred dollars she’d saved in tip money from her waitress job at Joe’s Diner to spend on anything she wanted. It was all for her. Hugging her purse closer to her body, she merged with the crowd.

Artwork was on her list of things to look for today. Over the past year, she’d managed to furnish her small efficiency apartment with flea market and thrift store finds. She’d sanded and painted a bistro table and two chairs, and refinished a bookshelf, coffee table and an end table. She’d also refurbished a davenport, which doubled as both a couch and a bed. She’d collected a variety of dishes and cookware.

Every item she’d chosen had suited one criteria—she liked it.

She took a deep breath and her nose caught several delicious aromas—sugar and deep-fried food. Shopping first, food after, she reminded herself. That was something else that had changed over the past year—she ate whatever she wanted. No more worrying about what Michael was going to say if he saw her eating something he didn’t approve of, which was just about everything. He liked his women model thin.

She’d always been naturally skinny, but for the first time in her life her hips actually had some curve to them. Her chest had never been a problem. She’d always had more than enough in that area.

Squaring her shoulders, she hitched her purse higher and waded into the fray, wandering up and down the long lines of vendors, searching for just the right pieces for her apartment.

Two hours later, she had a purple glass vase and a pink Depression glass bowl tucked safely in the cloth shopping bag she’d brought along to carry her treasures. Still nothing for her walls.

Her stomach growled, reminding her of her earlier promise to feed it. What did she want? There was so much to choose from. She contemplated a hot dog and French fries but she finally settled on a warm, soft cinnamon pretzel and an ice-cold lemonade. She juggled her purchases and food as she continued to roam through the long lines of sellers.

The pretzel filled the empty hole in her belly quite nicely and the lemonade quenched her thirst. When she was done, she located a garbage can and deposited the remains of her snack. It was time to get back to serious shopping.

Some people might find it lonely to shop by themselves. Roxanne loved it. There was a sense of freedom that came from having to please no one but herself. She could come and go as she pleased, spend as much time as she desired looking at an item.

Maybe someday down the road she’d want someone with her, either a friend or, heaven forbid, a boyfriend, but for now, she was more than content with her own company.

She reached the end of a long row of vendors and turned to head back up the other side. An elderly lady was situated on the corner with a smattering of items spread across a rickety table. It was impossible to tell her age. Her hair was snow white but her face was smooth and unlined. There was a timeless beauty about her, which was even more apparent when she smiled. “Morning.”

Roxanne was startled to realize it still was morning, just after eleven. She always lost track of time at the flea market. “Good morning,” she returned.

“What are you looking for today?”

Not wanting to be rude, Roxanne stopped and perused the woman’s items for sale.

“Nothing in particular. I’m searching for something to brighten up my apartment.” The older lady indicated a pile of dusty rugs in the corner behind her. “Maybe you’ll find something here.”

Roxanne didn’t think so but she decided she’d have a quick look to be polite and then move on. “Thanks.” She walked back to the stack of rugs and crouched down. Her purse bounced off her hip as she set the bag with her purchases on the ground. The rugs on top were dusty and old, but as she dug deeper, she found some that had true potential. She could attach hooks to it and hang it on a rod on her wall if she found something she liked. Instant art.

It took her a few minutes to work her way to the bottom of the stack. She had to move a dozen or so to one side to lighten the pile. Dust smudged her jeans and her T-shirt, but she didn’t mind. She’d dressed for comfort, not style. Flea marketing could be dirty business.

At the very bottom of the mound she hit the jackpot. A small tapestry, not bigger than about two by three, came into view. It was medieval in style. She pulled it closer and bent to examine it. A small castle sat in the middle of the piece, surrounded by craggy mountains and a thick forest. It appeared dark and forbidding, yet she couldn’t look away.

It was the two men in front of the stone structure that caught her attention. They weren’t dressed in armor as she’d half expected them to be, but were naked from the waist up. No, that wasn’t quite true. They were wearing thick armbands and wristbands, which emphasized the massive muscles that corded their arms and chest.

Roxanne shivered as a cloud moved over the sun, momentarily obscuring it. She glanced over her shoulder, feeling as though someone was watching her. The elderly lady was serving another customer and everyone else was minding their own business.

It was only her imagination.

Her gaze was drawn back to the tapestry, or rather the men in the center of the piece. They each wore leather boots that came to just below their knees and tight leather pants that molded to their thighs. They were impressive, to say the least.

Each man had an enormous sword strapped to his waist. That was more like it. In a medieval-style tapestry, you expected to see a castle and men with swords. The colors were a bit faded but she liked the piece.

She picked it up and started to cough when a cloud of dust poofed up. Okay, maybe it wasn’t faded but dirty. She could work with that. Clutching it in her hands, she turned to the lady selling the items. “How much?” The woman squinted at the tapestry and shook her head. “You sure you want that old thing? There are nicer tapestries in the pile.” Roxanne’s hands tightened around the cloth. Now that she’d decided on it, she wanted it badly. “No!” Appalled at herself for yelling, she softened her voice and offered a smile. “I like this one.”