CHAPTER 3
Harper
“Listen, nine percent over last year’s Valentine’s Day is not nothing, Harp,” Janie assures me.
“It wasn’t enough to make up for January,” I say, trying not to sound as desperate as I feel.
“But it did work. Your ideas worked. You’re crushing it. I know your dad is proud,” she says.
“Yeah, well, a lot of good it did in the end. Which is upon us. We only have one last council meeting before he comes back again.”
“I maintain my position,” Janie replies.
“Sweden,” I sigh.
I can hear her gray eyes and dark, could-be-a-model-face smiling as she says, “Switzerland. I love you, Ben loves you. Ben also loves Aiden and says he has a heart inside his suit somewhere. I love Ben. Therefore, I must cheer both of you on but you’re at 60% cheer and Aiden is only getting 40%.”
“That’s way too much!” I squeak.
“Well, that’s what happens when you get married!” She squeaks back.
“Ugh, alright. Well, thanks for the pep talk,” I tell her, meaning it. She quickly relays their travel plans over the next month before they’re home, encourages me a bit more, then lets me go.
I adjust my bandanna and apron one last time before abandoning my reflection.
It’s always the same, every day, so I’m not sure why I’m fussing over myself.
I head downstairs, same floorboards creaking that have creaked since Lily tried to sneak out as a teenager.
I turn and see the living room, also the exact same, except for the meds stacked next to the recliner. And the man reclining.
“Okay, Dad!” I try. “You know the drill. Stu is playing out back, Betty will be by in just a few minutes.”
“Fine,” he huffs.
Hey, an actual word! Today must be a good day!
I sweep his forehead clear of a wavy lock of gray hair, formerly red like my own, and kiss his stubbled cheek. Then I leave the room quickly, better to deck out while I’m ahead.
Well, ahead is a stretch.
I wince at my own internal thoughts as I climb into the old Explorer. I’ve been doing so well with my positivity lately. Until Sir Voldemort rolled into town. Now this little town seems smaller. Our old-school charm seems faded and dull.
Dad’s car starts on the first try. See? The wins keep coming!
I pull out and avoid looking at our house.
All the other homes on our street have been updated throughout the years.
A few still hold my childhood neighbors, a few have new families who commute to Cedar Point schools.
The rest Mr. Newman bought up, remodeled and are offered as rentals.
He maintains them as best he can, but rentals just get a lot of wear and tear.
I’m glad Dad is never outside to see the state of things. It’d make him even angrier. I squeeze my eyes shut for a beat at the stop sign and then attempt a reset.
New day! Let’s go!
I crank the radio and jam out to whatever young gal is singing about liking diamond rings and enjoy the sunshine.
Normally, I’d be at the shop already but Madison insisted, as my official assistant manager, that she practice opening the bakery two days a week.
She continues to be the one great love of my life thus far. Though, that’s not really saying much.
“Ha! Fact.” I laugh at my own little joke as I park.
I walk in and find her bustling away. Thank God and Benedict Clark—who made my bakery famous enough to lure her away from Hoboken—for Madison while I’ve got her.
She makes the place instantly cooler with her tall, tattooed form, dark olive skin and contrasting bleached-white pixie cut.
She wants to go back to the city and open her own bakery.
She has dreams too big for Juniper Falls. Everyone does. Except me, I guess.
Because you’re busy blooming, girl! And you got to sleep in this morning! Happy thoughts!
We have a slow lunch and an even slower afternoon. This allows Madison time to experiment with some recipes. It allows me time to spiral.
Because right at closing time, in they all file. It’s my turn to host. Coffee’s hot, muffins are out, everyone’s comfy in the chairs and tables by the fire.
But the mood is somber.
Hopeless.
“I just don’t see what other options we have,” Shelly starts, saying what we’re all thinking.
“I agree. We aren’t seeing growth anywhere, ever. It’s only down, month after month, year over year,” Gary says.
Except for my Valentine’s day this year.
I don’t say it out loud, of course. But I listen as everyone laments our fate. Someone smart pipes up behind me, asking about the bump from the Clarks. Ben and Janie made a big splash here with the press. We even made national TV with a Guinness Record for the most Christmas trees cut down at once.
“Okay, I’ll admit, for the week before Christmas we did see a four percent bump over last year, but that’s nothing.”
The argument picks back up, circling around the same few points over and over.
It’s not nothing. It’s four percent! Someone say it.
No one does. I look at Tyrone. I grab his shoulder. He looks up but apparently, for the first time in my life, my face is not talking for me.
“It’s not nothing,” I whisper to him.
“Heyo! Everybody shut it!” He yells. He smiles warmly at me, “What is it?”
I swallow hard. Everyone is looking at me. My fists ball up, my pulse races. But I take a deep breath. I know these people, love them. This is a safe place, Harper.
“Four percent is not nothing. My Valentine’s was down nine percent.”
“Oh, honey, I’m—” Shelly starts.
“Up!” I say louder than usual. Frustration does that. I use it and blurt, “My Valentine’s was up nine percent and I think I have an idea!”
Steven gasps.
Madison drops something in the kitchen, probably shocked.
Everyone is silent, staring with their mouths open. Tyrone is smiling wider than I’ve seen in months. I take another deep breath and then slowly, deliberately, I start talking. Out loud.