Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
After a restless night, Andie woke up clutching the pillow Leo had used. Sleep had obscured her memories, and she breathed in the faint reminder of his woodsy scent, wrapping herself up in her sheets, imagining more happy times with a man she’d grown fond of …
The previous day’s events slammed into her, an unwelcome tidal wave of emotion, and she tossed the pillow off the bed like a bug had landed on it. Ugh. She needed to do laundry and change her sheets. Her puffy eyes made focus a challenge and prompted the question of how she managed to wake with that sense of misguided peace?
Her dreams must have told her some happy lies, not that she remembered what they were. Pity, she’d love to go back to whatever reality had a smile on her face, rather than the broken heart she carried with her this morning.
Enough! She wiped her hands in front of her, clearing the air. She didn’t do wallowing, didn’t see the need to grieve a relationship, a short-term one at that, especially so soon after grieving a parent.
“Okay, Andie, you need a game plan.”
She stared at her ceiling, ready to put on her well-used brave exterior and make the best of things. Life hadn’t often been easy, but her father had shown her that sometimes the simple things, namely a positive outlook and a creative plan, made just about anything better.
“Focus on the facts. You’ve decided on the temple job.”
The words soothed her in the morning light. Shadows danced across the walls from trees swaying nearby. Yes, here was her positive. She’d stay, accept the temple offer, and pass on the Ohio opportunity.
“What do you think, Dad, smart decision?”
The wind blew harder against her windowpanes, the most answer she’d get from a dead man. He’d tell her to look inside and do what felt right—and the temple job felt right.
“Okay then. I’m really staying.”
She waited for the doubt, for the reality of her decision to cause a twinge. Nothing. The temple job had the pro column stacked well against moving to Ohio.
“One down. Job decided. The next fact is I no longer have Mom’s desk.”
The pain creeped back in, fresh and raw. Andie clutched the blanket closer to the hole in her heart. She’d do just about anything to get that desk back. If only the option existed.
“Okay, new plan, find all items that relate to Mom and create some other way to display that in the living room.”
Not perfect, but she had some random items here and there. Not as good as the desk, but something to hold onto and bring the memories. She could even add items from her father, create a shelf somewhere to honor the parents who had created her. The image formed, a fancy shelf with scalloped trim, rustic coating. She’d put it in her living room, above where her desk used to live.
“That will work. I’ll make it work.”
Her heart still felt heavy, but she had her facts and she had her plans. She woke up her phone, ready to pass on the Ohio job.
Texts waited for her.
All from Leo.
She bit her lip, debating if she wanted to see what he had to say, but knew it would bother her until she checked.
Leo: I’m sorry.
Leo: Truly, I am. If I had thought there was any chance of something like this happening, I would have never let your desk out of my sight.
Leo: I’m going to stop by later today with something for you. Please let me in.
“The mug won’t make up for the desk, Leo Dentz.”
She nearly typed that but held on to restraint. Instead, she set her phone down, leaving him on read and headed to the bathroom. A nice warm shower in her own apartment was exactly what she needed.
Leo hadn’t slept. How could he with Andie on the other side of his wall? He was tempted to knock, apologize through Morse code, not that either of them knew Morse code. Well, he didn’t, but for all he knew, Andie did.
He got up. Paced the length of his apartment. Emptied out his fridge with no regard to anything that might still be good. He showered, took out the trash, and still managed to be the first one back at the shop.
He had one chance to fix things. On the last night of Chanukah. He didn’t know if they would have a chance at a future, long distance or not. He had to right this wrong and give Andie what he’d set out to do: a good Chanukah.
The sun began peeking over the buildings and trees. He grabbed a chair, set it outside. Cold morning wind rushed up his pant legs and found any opening through his jacket. It rustled against his microphones in that mind-numbing sound. He didn’t care. The sky turned purple, then reds and oranges crept up the horizon, warming the area, though not the wind.
Whether frozen to the chair in reality or figuratively or just plain exhaustion, his father found him there.
Glen looked down at his middle child but didn’t say a word. He passed Leo and went into the shop. Had the previous night been a dream? Did Glen get some sleep and realize he’d made a big mistake? A sudden panic welled, fear that Glen had had a change of heart and a bigger bridge would need to be burned to get Andie’s desk back.
The door opened and Glen returned, placing a chair next to Leo. He sat, staring out beyond the buildings and trees, at the light still holding some color from the transition to day. The silence lingered, enhanced only by wind or cars on the nearby street.
Glen said something and the wind drowned it out.
“What?” Leo turned to his father, expecting the typical snide remark.
“You sleep?” Glen showed no sign of frustration at repeating himself.
Leo shook his head.
Glen placed a hand on Leo’s knee. “We’re getting her desk back. I won’t let McFadden back out.”
It filled him with a hint of helium disguised as hope. Hope for Andie. Hope for his future, both professional and personal. A tide had turned in his life and he’d need to stay focused to ensure it shifted the way he wanted.
Another car pulled into the lot and Dean exited the vehicle, reaching back before reemerging with a tray of coffees. He walked over as though he expected everyone to be outside and handed each of them a hot cup.
Leo’s fingers stung from the cold morning, and he cherished the hot beverage in his hands.
“Should we warm up lover boy over here before his fingers break off and drop the desk?”
“Ha. Ha.” Leo couldn’t muster anything more.
“No. We’re going to sit here for a few more minutes and enjoy the scenery and each other’s company.” Glen sipped his coffee. “And then we’ll force Leo to warm up before he does drop the desk.”
Dean laughed and tipped back his cup.
Leo breathed in the morning air, with his father and brother by his side. The present and future of Dentz Antiques.
Andie had just finished putting away her replacement groceries when a knock at her door startled her. She reached for her phone, but no new messages awaited her. And she hadn’t responded to Leo’s text. Not ready to see him, no matter what he thought could soothe over the events of the previous day.
She gathered up her reusable bags and fit them back into their storage spot, ready to head to her bedroom. She very rarely had someone knock and wasn’t worried about checking. The knock at the door came again, followed by, “Andie, it’s Dean.”
She paused. Did Leo send Dean with his sure-to-be-lackluster attempt at winning her back? It didn’t make sense, not one bit.
“Hey, I know you don’t want to see Leo, so I’m here. But I’m standing in your hall with a very heavy item, so let me in and then complain to Leo later.”
Confusion rankled deep inside, but she made her way over to the door, and opened it wide. Dean stood outside her unit, smile on his face. Next to him stood Glen.
The older man rubbed a hand over his head. “You probably don’t want to see me, either, but I did something that I never should have, and I needed to come here and own my mistake.”
If Dean wasn’t there, Andie would be convinced she’d hit her head or was still dreaming.
“He finished his Scrooge experience. Complete transformation, so far at least. No ghosts required,” Dean said.
Andie didn’t know what to say. What could they possibly do to fix the mess that was created? That’s when she noticed Dean didn’t stand as tall as usual, he had his hip leaning against—
“My desk!” She ran out into the hall, and the men parted like a beam of light shining down on her lost belonging. The stained wood was gone, it shined with refreshed life and vigor. A part of her stolen and returned and she couldn’t help herself, she hugged it.
Dean chuckled. “Wanna let us bring this inside, or should I get my brother, who is pacing impatiently in his apartment, to help?”
Andie swallowed, eyes darting to her neighbor’s unit. Some of her anger had dissipated, but she wasn’t ready to extend any olive branches. “You can bring it in.”
Dean straightened. “Works for me.”
Dean and Glen each grabbed an end, lifting her desk carefully and gliding it into her apartment. Dean led, setting it back where it rightfully belonged. She took it in, marveled at how good and fresh it looked. No longer did it appear to be a yard-sale find; instead, it sparkled as the heirloom she’d cherished. It shined, more than the wax, bringing the quality of her room up several notches.
“Leo asked me to tell you he could take it apart and do a more thorough refurbish, but wanted to get it back to you and wasn’t sure what you’d like. Your call. But the drawer works.”
The drawer works . Andie stepped in, reached for the knob, and gently tugged. It slid out smoothly, revealing items inside.
“Did the buyer leave something in here?” she asked.
“Nope. Leo found that when he got it working again. He’d saved it for a surprise.”
A surprise?
“I should have checked, nothing valuable should have left the shop,” Glen said. He’d taken a step back, keeping a quiet composure. A more subdued version of the man she’d met.
“Yeah, part of his deal was this surprise, and he would never have forgiven Dad or himself if he lost it.”
“I’d deserve that one,” Glen muttered.
She reached inside and pulled out an envelope. It had her name on it and she placed it aside as the photograph underneath stared up at her. A picture of her mother, wild curly hair, big smile, holding a chubby-cheeked baby. Her. Three more pictures followed, pictures she had never seen, from the rare period of her life when she had had her mother.
Andie didn’t know when the drawer had been busted, or how, but her mother must have left these here for her, somehow.
The handwriting on the envelope didn’t immediately register, but she opened it. The paper inside felt old and fragile as she carefully unfolded it.
My dearest Andie,
I am so sorry my dear, that I will not be here for your future. I had planned to watch you grow, to dry your tears and celebrate your accomplishments. I had planned to be here for you and your children.
Life had different plans for me. So I write this now, and will find some way to lock it inside this desk. Your desk. Your father has very specific instructions. I want you to know that I love you, now and forever. I am leaving you in the best of hands, your father’s, and I know he will give you the world.
Love always,
Mom
Tears pricked at the corner of Andie’s eyes. She held the letter closer to her, a quasi hug from her mother. This desk never belonged outside of her family and a moment of terror at never knowing these special pieces existed threatened to consume her, but she pushed it aside. No use fretting over what had already been remedied. And the letter didn’t appear to have been opened, so if lost she’d never have known.
“Was the letter important?” Glen asked.
She looked over, letter still clutched to her, and had to swallow a sudden wave of anger. “From my mother. She died when I was three.” It came out harsh, but the situation called for it.
Glen’s face sagged, aging him. “I really am sorry. I let myself get too caught up in the past and this should never have happened.”
It occurred to Andie that her anger at Leo was misplaced if his father stood in her apartment apologizing. “So what should have happened?”
Dean crossed his arms, settled on the edge of her couch.
Glen gave a double head nod. “Items in the back are not for sale, but sometimes they might be checked for a potential match for a customer. In that case their tags need to be reviewed to see if it is for sale.”
“And what did the tag at my desk say?”
Glen lost a bit of color. “It didn’t have a tag.”
Andie straightened, but so did Dean. “Because I had just finished waxing it and there was no place to put the tag. So it was on a nearby work bench, which any fool should have known to check.”
Glen waved a hand at his youngest.
“And I didn’t. I got carried away, and that is how this mistake happened. And, yes, if you are wondering, it’s not Leo’s fault.” Glen swallowed, the words a bit strained.
She thought fresh anger would consume her, the admission at the carelessness he gave to her belonging. Hard to feel anything other than relief.
“So how did you get it back?”
“I called McFadden, took responsibility for my actions. McFadden wasn’t happy, but he’ll get another item to make up for it.”
“You’ve got something else to check out.” Dean nodded back to her desk.
Andie turned, finding one remaining item stared up at her from the drawer. Another letter, in different handwriting.
Andie,
I’m sorry. So very sorry. You were right. About everything. I needed to take charge of my life and I’m taking that to heart. I don’t know if there is anything I can do to fix things. So I want you to know this: your desk is back, and I would have moved mountains to get it to you.
You showed me a lot about myself in our short week together and I will always be thankful for that.
I can do a deeper refurbish, if you want. And I’m here to fix us, if you’ll allow me. I know you’re moving and better things await you. Just know you will always hold a special place in my heart.
Leo
“So what should I tell him?”
Andie jumped, so lost in her own world she’d forgotten Dean and Glen were still there.
“For the record, he really does care about you. Unlike anything I’ve seen before.”
Glen nodded at Dean’s words.
Andie bit her lip. Leo’s words touched her, smoothed over a crack in her heart. Perhaps she had been too harsh. After all, he hadn’t been the one to sell her desk. And he managed to get it back.
“Oh, I’m a shmuck, I’ve got one more thing for you.”
Dean headed out into the hall and came back with a wooden plaque. He set it up on the desk and it slid against the base as though it always belonged there. Etched into the wood were the words: Andie’s Desk. Do Not Sell.
A smile grew on Andie’s face and warmed her up from deep inside.
“Just in case there is ever any questions again,” Dean said. “Leo thought about etching that onto the desk itself, but if you ever have children to pass it on to, he figured this was better.”
Andie rubbed her cuff bands, staring at her desk. Her now-perfect desk, with the one addition she hadn’t known she needed.
“He’s home?” she asked.
Dean grinned. “Yeah, he is. Probably with his ear pressed against the wall, trying to hear us, even though he knows he can’t, and waiting for me to return with an update.”
That gave Andie an idea.