26. Grady
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Grady
Two days later, my determination to stay away is shot to hell. I show up at her all-hands meeting, though I have no good reason to be here. I simply want to be.
She looks surprised to see me and stumbles over the words I interrupted, like a record player gone off kilter. Sympathy flashes across her face, but she recovers by directing me to a recently cleaned section of The Canteen. Donuts and a portable carton of coffee sit there, ready for the taking. The others have already armed themselves with her offering. I wave a quiet hand, not wanting to interrupt further.
“Okay, where were we?” She sounds nervous as she refers to her green notebook.
The boys occupy their usual places—Wade and Christie behind the counter, and Roy, belly-out, donut resting atop it, stretched on a stool. Marigold stands off to the right, hugging her sketchpad and shifting on her black Mary Janes. The cigarette smoke may be making her uncomfortable. She’s very sensitive about her environment. Lighting, sounds, temperature, movement, and smells. It’s a wonder she’s inside at all.
But Marina comforts and encourages Marigold, like with the Peter Pike situation and now, with what Marigold describes as a “real job.” Watching Marigold do new things after only a few interactions with this charismatic woman fills me with uncharacteristic optimism that one day, she won’t need me to back her up on library book fines or drive her to places she doesn’t feel comfortable going. A friendship with Marina might be good for her in surprising, strange ways.
The same is true for me.
Marina stands mid-store like she’s approaching the counter to make a purchase. She wears faded denim overalls, a t-shirt, a light pink sweater, and a high ponytail. The overalls and ponytail make her look even younger than she is, a needed relief from my last memory of her. She is younger, I keep telling myself.
She clears her throat. “The way I see it, to turn this into a profitable business, it all comes down to three golden rules.”
“Rules?” Wade belts back with irritation.
“Only three?” Christie asks over top of him.
“Just three,” she reiterates. “If we team up and use these three rules to guide our decisions about the G&G, then I’m one hundred percent confident that it’ll become a money-maker, a real contender in Seagrove.”
Christie claps. “Oh, Marnie, I have chills.”
“Rules sound stuffy,” Roy complains. “We ain’t in elementary school anymore.”
Marina’s mouth quirks into a half-smile like she expects pushback, even wants it. “Right, but I don’t mean rules like raising your hand before speaking. I mean, general practices that will bring in customers.”
Roy looks confused. Then, raises his hand. Idiot.
“Oh, what nice manners. Yes, Roy?”
He looks sheepish and unsure. “Um, speaking on behalf of the establishment,” he says, motioning to Wade, “I’d like the record to show that we don’t like rules.”
“You won’t like these, either. At first ,” she says. “But I promise you will once customers start pouring in. And they’re easy peasy.”
“Just tell us what they are,” Wade orders gruffly.
“First, we must be clean.”
A silent beat passes.
“Second, we must be family-friendly.”
Again, silence as they share bewildered glances.
“And finally, we must have what customers need .”
She lets the silence hang there as they wrap their slow brains around her rules like she’s waiting for lightbulbs to flicker and come to life on unreliable circuits.
Ever the encourager, Christie is first to say to the others, “Those sound reasonable… easy, too.”
“They sound easy,” Wade protests, “but they won’t be.”
“What does she mean by family-friendly?” Roy asks the other two, leaning in and whispering as if Marina can’t hear.
“I’m thrilled you asked,” she pipes in, “because that’s where we’re starting today. What does it mean to be family-friendly?”
I roll my eyes, folding my arms over my chest. They need a lecture on what family-friendly means, but I don’t. What am I doing here? It’s a gorgeous March Saturday, crisp, cloudless, and ushering in Spring. I should be on my dock or boat, wrangling a fat trout for tonight’s dinner. I don’t need to be here. I need to be alone and not thinking about Marina Ann Strange.
But when she moves to the black curtain marked Members Only and rips it from its staples over the doorway with one determined pull, I laugh, almost disrupting her meeting again. The three men gasp in unison, and she stands victorious over her confident decision.
“Is this family-friendly?” She poses the question so sweetly that I can’t imagine anyone will argue. She grabs a random title from the tiny closet of makeshift VHS and DVD shelves and reads it aloud. “ Sex & Sexability. ”
Now, she gasps and looks aghast, holding it up to the men—that’s not what she expected. “A Jane Austen porno?”
She grabs another and reads the title. “ Pride & Penetration. ”
“I prefer the Busty Brontes Series,” Roy says. “ Jane Bare. Trembling Heights. ”
Wade laughs at Marina’s astonishment. “We have a discerning clientele.”
“The curtain and sign were my idea,” Christie defends weakly. “See? I tried to be family-friendly.”
Marina takes a cleansing breath. “I appreciate your effort, Christie. But pornography isn’t family-friendly. It doesn’t belong here.”
They exchange unsure glances before she explains, “Imagine a mom stopping on her way home. She’s in a rush, tired, but must grab some milk and eggs, or she’ll have nothing to fix the kids for breakfast in the morning. She races in, kids in tow, and grabs her items, but with her arms full, given that there are no hand carts or shopping carts anywhere…”
She moves across this section of the store, waving her hands to prove her point, as she shares her dramatic story.
“… she doesn’t hold their hands, and they wander off. Where do they wander? Behind the mysterious curtain. Now, she’ll use her precious dinner time with the family to explain why some movies are hidden behind a curtain and why kids aren’t allowed to see them… More importantly, what have you lost in this probable scenario?”
They glance at each other. Roy raises his hand.
“Yes, Roy?”
“Our pride?”
“Our dignity?” Christie tacks on.
“Our patience,” Wade mumbles.
“No, you’ve lost a customer. For life. For life , gentleman,” she repeats.
And suddenly, I don’t care about fishing because this is too entertaining. I barely control my laughter with a hand over my mouth.
“But a customer looking for vintage pornos, on the other hand,” Wade tries, sounding defeated.
“Most people wouldn’t expect to find that here. There’s a valid market for such materials, but not here if we’re trying to be a convenience store. Ask yourselves, what do you want the G&G to be?”
“A convenience store,” they mumble together.
“The porn has to go,” she says, hands on hips.
“She’s right,” Christie says.
“Fine,” Wade barks. “We’ll… consider removing it.”
“Not consider it, Wade,” she chirps back. “You will remove it.”
“You aren’t the boss of me, missy. Why should I do anything you say?” he challenges, his eyes dark and narrow and his mustache twitching.
“That’s why you hired me, right?”
His eyes cut to me like he might end our deal right then. “Yes, but maybe I like things as they are. A little tidying up, sure. But this? I never agreed to big changes, and why should I make ‘em anyway?”
She perches her hands on the counter, making eye contact daringly but maintaining her usual smile. “Because Maureen wouldn’t want this for you, Wade.”
My heart stops—I can’t believe she said it. Neither can anyone else. She promised me she’d turn him into a teddy bear, not a damn, pissed-off, claws-out grizzly.
This is why I need to be here—to regulate them and protect her from their bullshit.
Wade glowers at her, practically bubbling with anger, while the others stare, mouths dropped and eyes wide. He stands, his chair shooting out from behind him and maintaining his glare, like Marina has thrown a shit-brick directly in his face. Her soft smile feels like fuel, feeding his rage.
I must intervene. This was my idea. I divulged Wade’s history. And suddenly, bringing her into their lives feels like introducing a lit match to a gas spill. This is not good.
But seconds into their stare-down from hell, with Wade seething and her softly smiling, she does the unthinkable. She lays her delicate hand on his fisted one across the counter.
“Tell me something, Wade. What was her favorite color?”
“Um, green,” he spits out harshly.
“Apple? Sage? Olive?”
“Shamrock. Her Irish roots and all,” he says, slightly softer.
“Perfect, we’ll go with green for good luck,” Marina decides, nodding to Marigold, who quickly scribbles notes. Then, in the gentlest tone, with her hand still atop his on the counter, she says, “Let’s make this place beautiful again. For her. ”
She tempers her words with an expression that reads I’m here to help you through your bullshit, not unlike the ones Maureen would give him all the time. It’s uncanny, the Maureen memories she stirs.
And unbelievably, grizzly Wade transforms into teddy bear Wade. His eyes go hooded, his jaw slackens, his shoulders release, and he doesn’t move his hand away from hers, like she’s a lifeline pulling him from a mental prison.
“Okay,” he says finally, shifting away and restoring his knocked-over chair.
Christie gasps and waves a hand over his eyes like he might cry. Roy sits up, removes his tattered baseball cap, and seems to say a prayer in reverence.
My eyes fix on her satisfied gleam and knowing smirk—I can’t look away. She is effervescent.
A loud honk and the rumble of tires against gravel interrupt the moment. Marina perks up. “Oh, my surprise is here!” she coos, waving for everyone to follow her.
When we file out the front door, we find her directing a pick-up truck pulling a flatbed trailer to the side of the building between it and the swamp. An odd structure is strapped to the low-lying trailer.
Marina introduces the bulky man emerging from the truck as Peter Pike. Marigold lights up when she sees him, her usual expressionless face beaming into an almost-smile. I fielded texts in the family chat all day yesterday about Marigold’s late-night date and her new desk, delivered promptly at ten yesterday morning. It’s nice putting a face to the guy who seems to be romancing my sister. I have to give him credit. Building a high school crush an art desk after upsetting her, keeping it for years on the chance she might reenter his life, and then presenting it, hulk-style, to her when she happens to visit your tenant and following up that genius move by dazzling her with trains—I don’t blame her for being enamored with him.
Based on the Tripp family texts, we all are. Marigold hasn’t had many friendships, none that have stuck, anyway. Dating prospects have been an even farther reach—she’s never shown interest. Now, even I see the sparks between them. It makes me smile.
Marina bypasses questions about the structure by organizing us to move it into place—an effort she attempts to join, taking one side, and I quickly refute, reminding her that she’s still healing. Though big, it’s not very heavy. We move it exactly where Marina wants it—butted against a sprawling live oak between the store and the swamp.
It’s a half-circle structure with pallets for floors and old doors for walls, some with windows, one with stained glass, and all different paint colors. A glass and wood hodgepodge that somehow works elegantly together. A metal roof finishes the piece, creating an eclectic covered porch.
“What the hell is this?” Wade barks. “Grandma’s garden shed?”
“No, your smoking porch,” she returns. “Going family-friendly means no more smoking in the store. So, with Pete’s help, we devised a pleasant alternative.”
She doesn’t wait for their reactions but turns to Marigold. “Your first project is to create an employees-only sign, weatherproof and rustic to hang on this. Christie, you’re responsible for chairs, environmentally-friendly ashtrays, and twinkle lights.”
He claps and bounces in his hot pink clogs. “On it, Marnie!”
Then, she breathes in deeply, eyeing the structure with awe. “It’s perfect, Pete.”
Wade examines the structure sheepishly. Roy scratches his head. Marigold and Pete talk softly to the side.
I move beside her, nudging her shoulder and admiring her and her efforts at once.
“How in the world did you come up with this?” I ask.
“Oh, with the help of my elaborate Pinterest board and my carpenter neighbor with a shed full of scraps, and a serious interest in seeing Marigold again. It didn’t take us long once we figured out the plan. Isn’t it cool and weird?”
“You’re cool and weird.” Her eyes cut to me, making my head swim. “I’m impressed.”
“Don’t sound so surprised.” She laughs.
“Blown away is more accurate,” I admit, an uncontrollable rumble stirring in my chest. “This. The way you handled Wade. How you’ve helped Marigold. You’re incredible. Truly.”
Her pale cheeks pinken as she shrugs. “Thanks. What can I say? I’m a strategist. Can’t expect them to give me their all without giving them something first.”
“Smart.”
“I’m surprised you’re here today,” she says, shuffling on her white sneakers.
“Couldn’t miss this. It’s okay, right?”
“Of course. Always. Just… could we talk? If you have time?”
Her arms fold over her green notebook, her brow pinching as she awaits my answer.
As if I could say no.
“Wren! Honey, what happened?” Christie’s distress pulls everyone’s attention to the black-haired teenager behind us. Her arms are folded over her untucked white button-down, and black streams of mascara streak her tear-stained cheeks.
Christie races over to his upset daughter, and she says weakly, “I got fired.”
“Oh, honey, you hated that job anyway. Bad energy,” Christie consoles.
“She didn’t even give me a good reason,” Wren sobs, “just that I no longer met expectations.”
Christie gasps with offense.
Roy and Wade meander over, serious looks under their ragged facial hair, and Wade says, with a fatherly tone I’ve long forgotten, “Want us to rough someone up?”
“We’ve got chainsaws, hungry gators, and alibis,” Roy adds, making her laugh.
“No felonies necessary,” she mutters tearfully.
Marina wilts with a sigh, mumbling, “Cora,” under her breath. She straightens and says, “It’s my fault. I hired you at Sunny’s. I should’ve taken you with me when I left. That place is too small for us. We need more character.” She waves her arm around before slipping it onto Wren’s shoulders. “Come work for the G&G.”
She glances at the others, unsurely. Wade looks ready to protest, but Wren’s tears soften him like Marina’s words earlier.
Marina continues, “We need someone already trained in customer service and register operations. Part-time. Oh, and once we get this place cleaned up, it’ll need a spiritual cleansing, too. Can you help?”
Her teary eyes widen. “I’ll stock up on sage. We’ll need a lot of sage. And green tealight candles, for abundance.”
“Perfect.”
Once again, I stand in awe of her. That is, until Uncle Wade gives me a pointed look, reminding me of our deal. How am I going to pay for all this?
I decide to worry about that later. Christie engages Wren in collecting furnishings for the smoker’s porch while Roy and Wade test its stability. Marigold and Peter discuss the best options for her first project.
And Marina takes my arm and guides me to the pier.