Chapter Seven #2
I hope you’re okay after last night. If you want to talk about it, I’m here. If I did or said anything that upset you, please tell me so I don’t do it again.
I hit Send before I could second-guess myself.
Gawd. Should I give him an out? I probably should . . . take the pressure off him.
It’s also okay if you’d rather not talk about it. I just worried that I’d done something wrong, but maybe it’s not about me? Anyway, feel free to text me back or call. Either is fine.
I pressed Send again, hoping it sounded better.
Until I re-read it and realized I’d probably made it worse.
“Ugh,” I grumbled. “This is ridiculous.”
I thumbed out one quick and final text.
I also never got a chance to say thank you for helping me last night. You’re a good friend.
Send.
You’re a good friend.
Cripes.
I couldn’t believe I’d just texted him that.
“Why would I say that?” I mumbled, beginning to text again.
Hey, so this is now getting embarrassing—
And Ro appeared beside me and took my phone out of my hand. “Just stop,” she said gently.
“I didn’t hit Send,” I said, trying to peer at the screen.
She held the backspace button, deleting that last line. “You can thank me later.”
I sagged with an agonized groan, giving little Merry a cuddle against my neck. “Why am I like this?”
She patted my shoulder. “The list is long.”
I snorted out a laugh. “Thanks.”
“He’ll get back to you when he can,” she said. “Now, put that little button back to bed and help me with this. We have less than five hours to get this done before their next feed, which will bring us up to a late but acceptable lunchtime.”
I whined but did as she asked.
The Christmas display for the front window had cost me a small fortune, but it was going to look amazing. There was a fine line between not overcapitalizing and overspending before the store had even opened and getting the presentation on point.
I wanted it to look amazing so customers could see the effort, and so they loved coming into the store. It was all about the aesthetic, the feel of the store. And this Christmas decoration was the cherry on top of the cake.
It was a miniature living room scene, complete with furniture and a rug on the floor, a Christmas tree with lights, a glowing fireplace, and books, of course.
The store window would be adorned with fake snow and garlands, and I wanted people to feel as if they were looking into a fairytale house where it was warm and cozy, where they were welcome.
But that also meant there was a bit of assembly required and making sure all the small lights worked and that everything was perfectly positioned.
I had to go outside a few times and direct Ro to move things half an inch here and there to ensure things were perfectly positioned. On the third time of me going out, Gunter came out across the street.
“Morning,” he said brightly. When he got close, he looked at the display, then got a proper look inside, just as Ro turned all the little lights on. “Oh wow. That looks amazing.”
I smiled proudly at the display. “It does, doesn’t it?”
He peered in at the rest of the store. “It all looks great. Big opening day tomorrow, right?”
I nodded. “Yep. December first.”
“Oh, that reminds me,” he said. “Did you know about the lighting of the Christmas tree tomorrow?”
“No. What’s that?”
“Oh, every December first they light the Christmas tree in the park by the river. The mayor welcomes everyone to the holidays and they light up the tree. It’s kinda fun. The whole town comes along.”
“But tomorrow is my opening day,” I said. How could I not have known about this?
“Oh no, they light it up around seven at night. You might catch it after you lock up for the day.” Then he shrugged.
“We all go. Our group of friends.” Then he leaned in and, with his hand hiding his mouth, said, “All us queer folk, that is. The whole gang. You’ve met a few of us but I can introduce you to everyone. ”
Oh.
That actually sounded nice.
“Sometimes we go to the diner or the pizzeria afterwards. Not sure what’s happening tomorrow night though. It’s fun, low-key.”
Fun, low-key?
He must have noticed my picking up of his choice of vocabulary. He had to be close to fifty . . .
“I’ve been hanging out with the kids too much,” he said with a laugh. “It doesn’t make me feel old at all.”
I’d seen kids coming and going, and when I looked over at the café, there were some faces peeking at us through the glass front. “I think we have an audience.”
Gunter turned around and his face broke out in a smile. “They’re very excited about your store,” he said before he waved them over. “Come on, let’s get this over with.” Then he spoke out of the corner of his mouth. “Don’t let them smell your fear.”
Three teenagers burst out of the door, trying not to smile too big. You know, to appear cool and whatever. There was one guy and two girls. The first girl, who had blue hair and a nose ring, shoved her hands in her back pockets of her corduroy pants. “Hey,” she said.
Gunter made quick introductions. “Evie, Holly, and Max.”
“Hey guys,” I replied. “My name’s Winter. This is my store.”
“Winter,” Evie repeated, nodding approvingly. “Cool name.”
“I have thirteen years of school-yard trauma that would disagree, but thanks.”
Gunter chuckled, but then he gestured to the front window display. “What do you guys think of this?”
They all went to the window, and from the noises they made, I think they approved.
Aunt Ro stuck her head out the door, smiling brightly at them. “Hello!”
Now, everyone loved Ro. She wore bright colors, had cool gray curly hair, bright heavy rimmed glasses and lipstick, and her entire vibe was approachable and fun. These three teens were no exception.
“Hi,” they chorused, more enthusiastically than they’d greeted me.
“Who wants to see something really cool?” Ro asked, then produced the laundry basket.
They stared at her.
But then the blankets rustled and Bright stuck his head out and gave the cutest little meow ever.
The three kids squealed and swarmed Ro. “Come in out of the cold,” she said, and they all disappeared inside.
“Ah, the little rescues,” Gunter said. “How are they doing?”
“Yeah, growing like weeds, or so Ro said.”
“You’re keeping them?”
“Yep. I did feel obligated because, you know.” I grimaced. “I was the one to orphan them. But they’ve grown on me. I could do without the lack of sleep though.”
He laughed. “I bet. They got names?”
“Merry and Bright.”
He grinned. “Very festive.”
“Deacon named them. It was written on the box I took them to the vet in. If it were up to me, I’d have probably called them Mr. Darcy and Heathcliff or something else just as literarily insufferable and conceited. Merry and Bright suits them.”
His eyes met mine, and he nodded slowly, smiling. “And how are things with Deacon?”
I groaned. “Ugh. I don’t know. I would have said going well, but then last night I think I upset him.
I’m not entirely sure what that was. Well, there were a few things, which I won’t bore you with, but anyway, he left rather abruptly, and I may have sent a barrage of apologetic texts this morning until Ro confiscated my phone.
” I patted down my pockets, finding nothing but keys. “I should check to see if he replied.”
“Ah, I see. So things aren’t going that well.”
I sighed and shrugged with as much disappointment and pity as I could muster. “I wouldn’t think so, no.”
“Okay, well, crap,” he mumbled, seeing a man walking toward us. Gunter turned to block him from my view. “Because here comes his father.”
Then he turned and greeted him, and yes, I could see now that it was, in fact, Deacon’s father. They looked a lot alike. Gunter held out his hand with a bright smile. “Wayne,” he said. “Good to see you again.”
“Yes, same,” he replied to him before eyeing me nervously.
“Do you know Winter?” Gunter asked.
“Yes, we’ve met,” Wayne said. “At the clinic.”
“Oh, of course,” Gunter said. “The kittens.”
“Hi,” I said, feeling suddenly very nervous and possibly nauseous.
“Can we have a little chat?” Wayne asked. “I know you’re busy, but I won’t take much of your time. A few minutes, that’s all.”
“Oh.” I tried to swallow. “Is . . . is everything okay?”
He smiled. “It is. Nothing bad. I didn’t mean to scare you or anything.”
I made a face. Well, more of a face than I was already making. “Am I that obvious?”
Gunter snorted and clapped my shoulder. “I’ll go wrangle these kids,” he said, opening the door to my store. “Come on, guys, we have a café to open.”
There were a few protests, most of which I think was actually Ro, but the three kids soon filed out and went back across the road with Gunter.
I gestured to the door. “Should we go inside?”
He nodded, and I held the door open for him and followed him inside.
There were very quick introductions to Ro, and with a big, somewhat-fake smile, she bundled up Merry and Bright in their blankets, picked up the basket, and carried it to the door.
“I’ll just be over with the kids,” she said, and was gone.
I watched as she headed straight over to the youth clinic, and when I plucked up enough courage to actually look at the man beside me, he appeared to be just as nervous as me.
“Mr. Clark,” I began.
“Please, call me Wayne.”
“Wayne,” I amended. “I can guess why you’re here. And I’m really sorry. I don’t know what I did or what I said, but Deacon left here last night in a hurry, and I think he was upset—”
He put his hand up and smiled. “It’s okay.
He was agitated when he got home, yes. But he didn’t want to talk about it, so that was that.
There’s no point in pushing because it just upsets him.
Then this morning he said some things . .
.” He paused and his eyes met mine. “Uh, I probably should have started this conversation at the beginning. You are aware Deacon has autism, yes?”
I nodded.