Julia is the owner of the antique shop Past Imperfect and resident amateur sleuth. She came to Grand Marais to settle her favorite aunt’s estate and two months later has found her self home. She’s a thirty-something artist who just wants to figure out life, well, at least where she fits into it all.
“…Her finger traced the older woman’s face in the picture. Julia shared the same copper hair as her favorite aunt, though without the silvery gray streaks.”
“…soft-soled suede boots scuffed along the pine floor, badly in need of refinishing. She thought the floor expressed the character of her antique shop, “Past Imperfect,” well, perfectly. Julia’s calf-length retro corded skirt brushed against a sideboard with white-wash finish as she reached the front of the shop. Her fashion sense complimented the shop. Julia never adapted to the latest styles, preferring flowing skirts, boots, and poet blouses. When her hair wasn’t in a braid, she was a throwback to another time.”
Like everyone, Julia has a past. Most of it, she’s happy to remember…
“…When Julia was just a little girl, she would venture off with her aunt to auctions and estate sales looking for bits of treasure. Sadie didn’t have the antique shop then, but she enjoyed connecting with the past through the items they found. With each find, Sadie made up a story, bringing the objects to life. The rides home in her dark red 1932 Oldsmobile convertible, the rumble seat holding their treasures, were filled with romance, chivalry, and sometimes ghost stories. Sadie’s laugh, like a soft spring rain, made Julia smile then, and the memory made her smile now. Julia sighed, remembering how she’d lay on the dewy grass dreaming of one-day living in an old Victorian house with a huge attic, leaded glass windows, and a grand staircase. Unfortunately, sometimes life doesn’t turn out the way we dream.”
…other memories she’d rather forget. Those are ones that leave the feelings of guilt. Always wondering what she could have done differently.
“…friends all thought he was the perfect husband.”
“…things weren’t as wonderful as she made herself believe.”
Her roommate, in the flat above the shop, is a street-wandering orange tabby named King Henry. Much like his portly namesake, Henry enjoys his meals and a soft bed. He’s the one male Julia can count on.