Chapter 3
AURORA
“Grandma, press the button,” I yell from the bottom of the stairs.
No reply.
“Grandma!”
“What?” she screeches.
“Press the freaking button!”
The bell in the shop rings right on cue. I walk up the stairs and into the apartment. Grandma is on the pull-out bed, reluctantly watching TV. I’ve never seen someone so angry at having to rest and recover, but it’s what the doctor ordered, so it’s what she’s going to do.
“If anything is wrong, you press that button. Even if nothing’s wrong and you just need me, press the button. Nothing is too big or too small, okay?”
She folds her arms and stares at the TV, which is switched off.
“And stop pouting,” I chastise her.
“There is a plethora of silliness in this situation; I would just like to inform you of that.”
“Noted.”
“It is absolutely and unforgivably obscene.”
I kneel next to her bed. “Look at me, Grandma.”
She swallows and turns to me.
“You need to accept that you’re not going to be able to tough through this. The doctor said you need to reduce stress. You’re risking another stroke otherwise. I know this isn’t how you want things to be, but it’s how they are, okay? Meet me halfway.”
“I’ll try,” she says quietly, fidgeting with her hands.
“Please. That’s all I ask. And don’t be proud with that button. You press it anytime you need me.”
“If you need me, you be honest too,” Grandma requests. “There’s a lot to be done today. A full appointment book. Lots of costumes. The people of Cedar Rock rely on us.”
“Are you forgetting who you’re talking to?” I say with a smirk. “I’m a student at FIT, remember. The best of the best.”
“You say that with irony, but it’s true. You are the best.”
“Okay, I’m going to get started. Love you. And…”
“Press the button. I know!”
I head downstairs, leaving the door to the apartment open, and turn the closed sign around. The storm has gone, leaving Main Street blanketed in a shining sheen. The Johnsons arrive first, two little boys aged seven and nine with their mother in tow.
“Hello, Mrs. Johnson,” I say when she walks into the shop.
The boys immediately start running around the room, looking up at the costumes hanging from the walls: vampire and werewolf and comic book characters, all expertly designed and made by me and Grandma.
“Oh, hi, Aurora,” Mrs. Johnson says. “I wasn’t expecting to see you.”
“Grandma has had some medical trouble. I hope I’ll do?”
She grins, her kind green eyes sparkling. I’ve known her since I was a girl, like many people in Cedar Rock. “Our very own fashionista. I think we can live with that. Right, boys?”
The Johnson boys look at me with big grins, which match their mother’s.
“I’ve got their costumes here,” I say. “I just need to make some adjustments to the cape, collar, and the pants for the scarecrow. Boys, do you think you can stay still long enough for that?”
“Better chance at getting them to do rocket science,” Mrs. Johnson jokes.
I laugh. “What if it’s a challenge, huh? Who can stay the stillest the longest?”
They both immediately freeze.
“Let me get the costumes on first,” I say, chuckling.
The work is a breeze, except the entire time, I’m waiting for the bell to ring. I have to pray Grandma won’t be too proud to press the button.
“You were great with them,” Mrs. Johnson says when I’m done. “You’re going to be an amazing mom one day.”
“Thank you,” I say. “One day. Sure.”
A bitter, cynical thought worms its way into my head. I’ve had to take care of myself and Grandma, to some extent, for years. The idea of taking care of a little human seems a long, long way off.
Three more Halloween costumes later, and I’m ready for a coffee break. I go upstairs and make some for myself and Grandma.
“How’s it going?” she asks, blowing on the steam.
“It’s fine. Like riding a bike.”
“You always had a knack for it,” Grandma says longingly. “Ever since you were a baby. Before you could even speak. You wanted to be near fabric. I think it was your destiny.”
“I think so too,” I tell her. “I love it more than anything. But don’t get maudlin. I know it’s probably easier said than done when you’re used to being so busy.”
“Bingo.” She sighs. “I forgot to mention, there’s an appointment later that isn’t in the diary. Raiden Blackwell.”
“Blackwell, as in the Blackwells?”
“He needs his suit adjusted for their big what-do-you-call-it. The ball…”
“The Retreat,” I say. “Isn’t that what they call it these days?”
“The Grand Masquerade or something, yes,” Grandma replies. “Anyway, he’ll be coming in.”
“I went to that thing once, before it became a multiple-day thing, a rich person’s jerk circle.”
Grandma laughs. “Jerk Circle. Now that’s funny.”
“I didn’t invent the term, but I’ll take the credit. When I went, it was a fun thing for families, a party, basically. I’ve heard it’s a chance for rich people to do rich-people things on the Blackwell private island now. I never met a Raiden, though.”
“He’s a pleasant man, a little distant, a little cold. He always pays on time.”
“I’ll handle it. Do you need anything before I head back down?”
“How about some cocaine?”
Laughter explodes out of me. “God, Grandma. You can’t be that bored.”
She nods towards the end table, gesturing to her knitting. “I’ve got plenty to keep me busy, sweetness. Thank you.”
“You don’t have to keep thanking me.”
“Yet I will.”
Back downstairs, I help Sissy Thompson with the angel wings on her custom costume. After saying goodbye, the door swings open almost immediately and a man steps in. Something instantly feels… off.
He looks to be fiftyish, with a comb over and wire-rimmed spectacles. He scans around the room as if he owns it, running his fingers along the counter as if checking for dust. Neither of us says hello as he inspects the place.
“Do you normally greet people when they enter your store?” he asks.
“You’re with them,” I say.
He smiles thinly. “You must be the granddaughter.”
“And you’re the man trying to make my grandmother homeless.”
He shrugs. “I don’t see it that way.”
“Don’t do this,” I say, imitating his shrug. “Don’t you dare drive my grandmother to a stroke through stress, then swagger in here like you own the place, then do this.” I shrug again. “Like it’s no big deal. Why are you here?”
“Perhaps we got off on the wrong foot. Allow me to introduce myself.”
“I think we got off on the perfect foot. I know who you are, and I know what sort of man you are. What else is there to say?”
“I’m Simon Kerkenwall, and I represent Goliath Properties. You claim I want to make her homeless, but nothing could be further from the truth. I’m here because I’d like to make your grandmother a very rich lady.”
“She’s rejected your offers.”
“Yes.”
“And now you’re using the legal system to bankrupt her.”
“I must say I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you say that because what you’re doing is probably illegal. If not, it’s unethical. Not that you’d care about that. Anyway, the answer is no.”
“You haven’t heard the figure.”
“I already have the figure,” I tell him.
He raises his eyebrows. “You do?”
“I’ve written it down. Wait a second.”
I root around under the counter, then aim my middle finger at him. “Ah, there it is.”
“That’s very amusing,” he says. “You’re a funny girl…” He leans forward, making a show of looking at my name tag. “Aurora. A funny girl with a unique and pretty name.”
“You’ve gone from unwelcome to actively giving me the creeps now. Now get the hell out of my shop.”
“It won’t be your shop for long,” he says, pointing at the ceiling. “This will be the lobby. And above us, that will be apartment number one. And above that, it will go on and on and on, reaching to the heavens. Have a great day.”
Simon turns and leaves, whistling a tune as he goes. I look around for something to throw at him. Luckily, by the time I pick up the paperweight, he’s already gone.
I hurry upstairs when the bell rings.
“Is everything all right?” Grandma asks. “I heard raised voices.”
“Everything’s fine,” I call back.
I need to shield her from this as best as I can. It’s my responsibility, my weight to carry.
Sometimes I hate being a grownup.