CHAPTER NINE - MELODY
CHAPTER NINE
MELODY
Melody hesitated on the text she’d typed out to Christopher. He’d told her she could call or text anytime for any reason. She didn’t really like asking for help, especially from him, but she couldn’t operate a power tool to save her life. And if she wanted to clean up this thrift store this week, she needed to call in reinforcements.
She pulled her lower lip between her teeth and nibbled softly. To text or not to text?
She re-read the text she’d drafted.
Melody: Hey Christopher! If you don’t mind, I was wondering if you could help me hang some stuff at the shop sometime soon?
Was the exclamation point too much? Should she ask how he was doing first? Make small talk? They weren’t friends exactly, so she didn’t know why she would. She just needed a helping hand, that was all.
Melody read the text one more time and pushed SEND. Then she blew out a breath and busied herself by walking over to some shelves of shoes which ran right along a broken clothing rack that she needed help with. A pair of brown suede flats caught her eye. She placed them on the floor and kicked off her pair of yellow Keds. Then she stepped into someone’s used shoes and audibly sighed. The brown suede flats looked almost new and hugged her soles like they were made just for her. That sounded like something Jo would have said. To think someone would bring their old shoes here and that fate would pair them up with their next perfect owner. That was such a Jo thing.
Melody’s chest ached. She regretted the lost time between her and Jo, even though Jo would insist that wasting energy on regrets was like throwing money to the breeze. Jo had obviously loved this store. There was so much of her in the little details, like the items she chose to display in the glass case at the register—lockets, charm bracelets, and crystal knickknacks. The stool at the register had a worn candy apple-red seat that Melody imagined her great-aunt sitting on day in and day out as she welcomed her customers with that free spirit Melody remembered.
Alyssa used to say that when you loved something, a little piece of your heart and soul stayed with it. Like the charm bracelet. Alyssa thought wearing the bracelet would be like carrying a little piece of each friend around with her. Maybe a little piece of Jo’s heart and soul was still in this store too, Melody thought, glancing around. If that was true, clearing out Hidden Treasures and turning it into something boring would kill off whatever essence of Jo hadn’t been cast off in a firecracker.
Maybe, Melody thought, just maybe she could find a buyer who would keep the store as is. Then Jo would live on in some way and Melody’s conscience would remain clear.
Her cell phone buzzed in her pocket, pulling her from her thoughts. She glanced at the caller ID and saw her business partner’s name.
“Hi, Julie. How are you?” She leaned against the wall and held her cell phone to her ear.
“Hanging in there. How are you?” Julie asked in an upbeat tone.
“Good. Very good.” It was an honest answer that surprised Melody even as it tumbled off her lips. She wasn’t actually miserable here on Trove Isle like she’d thought she’d be. She was moving at a slower pace than she normally kept, stopping to admire the view, and catching up with people she hadn’t allowed herself to think about in years. She was also catching up with herself, if that made sense.
“Great,” Julie said. “Next question. You’re still planning on returning this weekend, right?”
Melody had told Julie she’d be gone for two weeks, but she’d need longer if she took the real estate agent’s advice and cleaned this place out. Selling the store as Hidden Treasures would be easier and allow Melody to get back to her normal life quicker. The only downside was that Melody wouldn’t make as much profit.
Melody left the pair of Keds she was wearing on the shelf in place of the brown suede shoes she’d pulled off. “That’s the still the plan,” she told her partner.
Julie blew out an audible breath into the receiver. “What a relief! I was a little worried you were going to tell me that you’d decided to stay longer. Or worse.”
“Worse?” Melody asked.
“Forever,” Julie said on a laugh, as if that was a preposterous thought.
“You don’t have to worry about that. Not happening.” Melody continued walking through the store and collecting lint. “The plan is to leave on Sunday. The real estate agent can do the rest of the footwork to sell this place without me.”
“Great plan. This is why you’re a fantastic planner and why I need you back at Memory Lane Events ASAP.”
Melody stopped walking and glanced at her reflection in the full-length mirror, inspecting the new-to-her shoes and wondering who had worn them before her. Maybe they were
Jo’s. Pulling on something that had lived a life before her felt magical in some way, like she was inheriting some small essence of another person. Like she was literally and figuratively walking in someone else’s shoes. Maybe they would lead her to her very best friend just like the black ballerina flats that Jo had given her in her childhood had.
“Don’t forget, we have the Dunkin’s baby shower next week,” Julie reminded her.
In truth, Julie could handle an event on that scale alone, but Melody loved baby showers. She’d done the planning for this one from afar, ordering all the decorations and organizing the color schemes. She’d come up with three fun games to play at the event as well. Guessing candy bar types that were smashed into diapers was a special request from the client, who was laid-back and loved to laugh. Melody had also thought up a new activity where guests got to take the baby’s last name and come up with a word or phrase for each letter to make an acrostic. Melody had even made an example for all the guests.
Baby Name: DUNKIN
D: Diapers.
U: Undress and redress.
N: Newborn.
K: Kick!
I: Itsy-bitsy, teeny tiny.
N: Nighty night, sweet baby.
Melody was looking forward to all the fun. Half the time her events didn’t feel like work once she was in the midst of them and laughing alongside everyone else. At least with her more carefree clientele. The more particular, controlling ones, however, not so much.
“I’ll call you once I’m back in town,” Melody promised.
“Sounds good. Enjoy the rest of your time at home.”
The word “home” reverberated through her. Melody let it bounce around in her brain, pondering whether to accept or reject it. This was her home though. Home wasn’t always a purely sweet place. It was bitter too. And Trove Isle was as bittersweet a place as there was for her. “Thanks. I will.”
Melody said goodbye and disconnected the call. Then she stood there a moment, admiring the charm bracelet on her wrist. A couple charms had a sparkly sheen to them that she hadn’t noticed before. Maybe it was the lighting of the thrift store that made them appear that way.
A tap on her door drew her attention. Christopher waved when she looked his way. That was fast. She hurried over and unlocked the door. “Hi. Wow, I wasn’t expecting you to drop in so quickly. I just texted you ten minutes ago.”
“School is out for the day. I was just leaving campus when I got your message. Your text said you needed a hand?” He looked past her for a moment. From his perspective, it probably looked like her entire store needed a hand.
“Um, yeah. There’re just a few things I can’t manage on my own.”
“No problem.” He held up a toolbox. “I’m always prepared. Like I told you at Jo’s Celebration of Life, my mom has a never-ending to-do list for me. I never leave home without these.”
Melody was relieved. “Thank you.” She gestured across the store. “There’s a wobbly clothing rack in the back that needs securing to the wall. I don’t want it to fall on someone.”
“That wouldn’t be good,” Christopher agreed with a nice smile. So nice that she let her gaze lower to his lips to study them for an awkward moment.
She yanked her gaze back up to his eyes. He was Alyssa’s former crush. Melody shouldn’t be admiring his nice smile. Or his equally nice eyes, which were a light-colored blue like the sky on a clear day. She nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, needing something to do with her hands. “Yeah, the last thing I need is a lawsuit while I’m trying to sell this place.”
“Right.” Christopher tipped his head toward the back of the store. “Lead the way.”
“Sure.” Melody led him through a narrow path sandwiched with items for sale and gestured at the rack. “I swear, all I did was pull a hanger off and it fell down.”
“You sure you weren’t doing pull-ups on it?” He eyed her playfully as he placed his toolbox on the floor and hunched over it to locate a tiny screw.
“I wasn’t doing pull-ups, but I wouldn’t put it past one of the customers.” Melody leaned against the wall and crossed her arms, ignoring the little bump in her pulse. “There is never a dull moment in this place. It’s kind of like Jo herself. Every time I turn around, I find something interesting. Did you know she kept a box of crystals below the cash register?”
Christopher chuckled as he glanced up. “Actually, I did know that. She gave me one once. Told me to carry it around in my pocket for a month to reset my energy.”
“Your energy? Why?” Melody was equal parts intrigued and comforted by all the stories of her great-aunt. She’d missed so much time with Jo, taking for granted that Jo would be here waiting for her when she made her way back to Trove. If she made her way back.
“My fiancée had just left town.” Christopher straightened to a standing position with his drill and the screw in hand. He put the rack into place on the wall and lined up his drill bit.
“I didn’t know you were engaged,” Melody said.
Christopher swept his gaze sideward, his blue eyes meeting hers. No, the color was more like the river on a clear day, deeper somehow. “How could you?”
Ouch.“Who was she? Your fiancée.”
Christopher cleared his throat. “A teacher at the high school where I work. She taught math there for a while. We dated and fell hard-and-fast for each other,” Christopher explained. Then he stopped talking and drilled for a long moment, securing the rack back into place.
So many questions popped into Melody’s brain as she watched him. For some reason, she’d assumed Christopher had never gotten serious with anyone. Otherwise, he’d be married with kids like everyone else they’d gone to school with. He wasn’t a band geek anymore though. On the contrary, he was cool. And kind of hot, which she felt weird even thinking.
Christopher lowered his drill and looked around. “Anything else you need me to do in here? While I have my tools.”
“You sure you don’t mind?”
His gaze swept back to meet hers. “I get daily to-do lists from my mom, remember? I’m a handy guy to have on speed dial.”
Melody hedged. “Well, if you’re sure, there is a lightbulb that’s burned-out in the laundry room. I have a ladder and a bulb. It’s a small ladder so I can’t quite reach the fixture. Short people problems,” she said on a nervous laugh.
“Lucky for you, I’m tall.” He headed in that direction and proceeded to change the lightbulb, fix the leaky faucet in the bathroom, and sand out a splintered bookshelf.
“Where did she go? Your ex?” Melody finally asked as he put his equipment away. A good hour had passed since they’d spoken of the woman in Christopher’s past, but Melody was still thinking about it. Instead of pushing it out of her head, more and more questions floated around.
Christopher expelled a breath. “Small town life isn’t for everyone. She didn’t love it here and couldn’t see herself spending the rest of her life in Trove Isle.” He shrugged as if it was no big deal, but Melody suspected his heart had been broken by this math teacher. “She wanted to move to a big city.”
“And you didn’t?”
Christopher gave his head a hard shake. “Not a chance. This is my home. My family is here. My friends. My students. My hometown is a huge part of who I am. If she didn’t love Trove Isle, she didn’t love me. Not fully.”
“So you’re here to stay,” Melody said.
“I am,” he confirmed with a nod.
“I love how you included your students. You must be a great teacher.”
“Not as good as Mr. Lopez.”
Melody laughed unexpectedly. “Mr. Lopez was so boring. Is he still . . . ?”
Christopher folded up the small ladder as they talked, carrying it to its spot between the washer and dryer set. “He may be in his eighties, but Trove High’s former senior English teacher is more active than most people half his age. Boring or not, he’s doing well.”
“That’s good news.”
Christopher looked around the store. “I can tell you’ve been working in here. It looks good.”
“Thanks. Abigail Winslow said this place will sell better if it’s empty, but every time I open the door, a customer walks in. And donations are still being piled up out back even though I have a sign that says we’re no longer collecting. Or I had one. It’s MIA.” Melody grimaced. “Call me crazy, but part of me suspects Jo.”
Christopher offered a humorous look. “Sounds like your aunt is scheming beyond the grave.”
“Except she doesn’t have a grave,” Melody said with a head shake. “I still can’t get over the whole fireworks thing.”
Christopher laughed, the sound low and easy. “Jo was one of a kind, that’s for sure. She really loved this place.” He glanced around.
“So I hear.” Melody looked around too. “And honestly, it’s growing on me. I can see why this store was so special to her.” Her gaze locked with his and her breath hitched just slightly. “It’s kind of fun seeing what shows up in the donation box. One man’s junk . . .”
“Is another man’s treasure.” Christopher’s eyes seemed to dance as he completed her sentence. Then he pulled out his cell phone as if he’d felt it buzz in his pocket. After checking the screen, he shoved it back into his jeans and looked up. “My mom’s to-do list for today just came in,” he said. “I better head that way.”
“Well, I’m right next door. Until Sunday, at least. You can always call me if there’s something you think I can do for her.” Melody had always loved Mrs. West when she was growing up. Mrs. West loved to bake fresh cookies and offer them to her and Alyssa on the regular. Melody’s own mother hadn’t even baked them cookies. “I guess I owe you a favor for coming to the store today,” Melody said.
Christopher rubbed his jaw where there was a light five o’clock shadow filling in. “You mean that?”
Melody had a feeling she might regret her offer. “Of course. What do you need?”
“Since my mom is a shut-in, she thrives on company. If you’ve got time . . .” He trailed off. “It would mean a lot to her, to me, if you’d stop in just to say hello. She doesn’t get a lot of visitors other than me, and I’m not the best conversationalist.”
“I don’t know. I think you’re pretty okay company.” Melody didn’t want to like Christopher, but he was such a nice guy that she couldn’t help herself. She also didn’t want to find herself attracted to him. “I’ll try to stop in and see your mom. I’d like that.”
“Thanks. She’ll like it too.” He shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe you and I can catch up again before you leave town.”
Was he flirting? “Yeah. I’d like to hear more about why you turned down my sister’s promposal in high school,” she said. The statement was meant to build back up the invisible wall that Christopher seemed to keep breaking down. “You can list the reasons, and I can tell you how wrong you were.”
Christopher didn’t even blink. “Sounds like a date.”
* * *
The next day, Melody walked into The Bitery and ordered a cinnamon twist and coffee.
“I’ll be over there as soon as the crowd dies down,” Liz promised. Her smile had come a lot easier today than it had earlier in the week. She was tolerating having Melody around, which was progress.
“No problem.” Melody had her laptop with her and was hoping to start planning a retirement party that Julie had emailed her about overnight. The retiree being celebrated had worked thirty years at a law firm and she wanted a huge celebration this fall.
Melody sat down at a table along the wall, opened her laptop, and tapped her thoughts onto the blank document. By the time Liz came over with their breakfasts, Melody was buzzing with all the possibilities for the event. She couldn’t wait to share them with her partner.
“Wow, you look like you’re working hard.” Liz plopped down across from her.
Melody closed her laptop and placed it back in its leather carrying case. Then she pulled her coffee closer and took a deep whiff of the brew. “I swear this stuff smells as good as it tastes.”
Liz grinned over her own cup of coffee. Her gaze flicked to Melody’s laptop. “So, what are you working on?”
“A retirement party I’ve been contracted for. I woke up early and my brain has been buzzing with ideas ever since.”
Liz picked at her muffin bite. “You’re planning events and cleaning out the thrift store?”
“Not exactly. I know it’s what Abigail suggested, but I have a feeling Jo would haunt me until I die if I emptied out her beloved thrift store. In fact, she’s already haunting me a little.”
Liz furrowed her brow.
Melody waved a hand. “Don’t worry. I’m not seeing apparitions or anything. I’ve just realized exactly how much she loved that place. It feels like a little piece of her is still there. So,” she sucked in a breath, “I’ve decided to clean the store up and find a buyer who wants to operate it as is.”
“Someone who wants to run it as a thrift store?” Liz asked, surprise lifting her brow.
Melody nodded. “Yep. I know that’s a tall order, especially since I’m leaving on Sunday. The store wouldn’t remain open all the time, but there’s nothing to say I can’t travel back and forth between here and Charlotte and keep it open on the weekends. At least until it’s sold. Maybe I won’t get as much money off the store, but if Jo’s vision is preserved, that’s more important, right?”
Liz grinned back at her. “Wow.”
“What?” Melody asked. “You’re giving me a strange look.”
“I’m not looking at you any specific way,” Liz argued.
“You are. You’re looking at me like I just rescued a puppy or something.”
“I’m just proud of you, that’s all,” Liz said. “And Jo would be too. Hidden Treasures is special and important to the people in town. Whoever takes it over should keep it intact. I’m glad you made that decision.” Liz nibbled more on her muffin bite and washed it down with coffee. “Well, if you need a photographer to take pictures of the store,” she pointed at her own chest, “I’m your woman.”
“Noted.” It was too bad Liz didn’t live closer to Memory Lane Events. There was always a need for a photographer, and Melody would be able to network with Liz.
“Speaking of friends,” Liz said, “I’m going to see Bri on Friday. My mom has someone who works days at the bakery when I’m not able to. I contacted her because Rose is in school during the week.”
Melody had a feeling she knew where this was heading and she wanted to get up out of this seat and bolt. Liz was the forgiving type. She could never stay mad at anyone for long. But Bri was the type who held a grudge. Her attitude in high school had been legendary, and no one had wanted to land on her bad side. Least of all Melody who avoided conflict when at all possible.
Liz reached for Melody’s hand. “Come with me. Or actually”—she chewed her bottom lip for a moment—“maybe you could take me. I hate public transportation.”
“You should start driving again then,” Melody said, avoiding the question and diverting the pressure just a little bit while she thought of a good excuse to turn Liz down.
Liz pointed at the charm bracelet on Melody’s wrist. The metal charms were shiny under the shop’s lighting. “You made a promise along with the rest of us. Friends forever. I know you’re the one who lost your sister but Alyssa would have wanted you to keep that promise. She wouldn’t have wanted you to disappear.”
“I know,” Melody said quietly. Alyssa would have been adamant that they all remained close, regardless of any circumstances. “I wish I could go back and do things differently.”
“You can’t change the past. You can change what you do right now though. You’re not heading out until Sunday, right?”
Melody nodded. “That’s the plan.”
“Great. So, go with me to the prison.”
Melody looked from Liz to the bracelet, knowing that her friend was right. Liz and Bri had remained close despite the distance between them. Melody was the one who’d messed up the whole pact.
She wanted to say no. She wanted to find any excuse to avoid this situation. But another part of her wanted to see Bri. She missed her old friend. Being home had made her realize just how much. “Okay. I guess my answer is yes.”
Liz looked pleased. “Bri is going to be so thrilled. I can’t wait to tell her.”
“You talk to her?” Melody asked. “By phone?”
“Not by phone. We send e-messages most days. The prison has some special network that inmates, friends, and family can use. It’s a lot like email. Sometimes I think we’re closer now than we ever were. Distance doesn’t have to be a wedge.” Liz gave Melody a meaningful look that Melody thought she understood. When she left on Sunday, it didn’t have to be goodbye. And Melody didn’t intend for it to be this time. She was glad to have reconnected with Liz. It felt good.
Melody reached for the bracelet on her wrist and slipped it off, dangling it between them. “It’s your turn.”
Liz’s gaze dropped. “You can keep it longer if you want.”
Melody shook her head. “It’s kind of fun passing it back and forth, and it means we get to see each other more often.”
“I agree.” Liz held out her arm and allowed Melody to slip it over her fingers to rest on her tiny wrist. She looked at the bracelet for a moment.
Melody leaned in to look at it more closely as well. “Have you noticed that some of the charms have a sparkly finish to them?”
Liz nodded quickly. “I have. They catch the light at different angles.”
“Have you thought that maybe some charms didn’t shimmer at first and then they did?” Melody asked, feeling a little foolish for even thinking that was possible.
Liz’s confused expression told her she hadn’t noticed any such thing. Maybe that was just Jo’s influence edging in on Melody. And Alyssa’s. The longer Melody was here, the more she was reminded of her great-aunt and her sister, and how everything was magical to both of them. Nothing was ordinary. “Never mind,” Melody said with a slight head shake.
Liz pushed back from the table. “I need to get back to the kitchen. The bites in the oven will be done in about a minute, and if they’re left too long, they burn. Making bites is an art form. It’s my mom’s art, but I’ll have to make another batch if they’re not the perfect blend of soft and firm.” She stood. “Don’t worry about Bri. She’ll be thrilled to see you. She hasn’t changed all that much from the friend you remember.”
“Good to hear,” Melody said, even though that’s exactly what she was worried about.
* * *
When Melody had gotten home, instead of retreating to her room down the hall like she’d been doing since arriving in Trove Isle, she walked into the kitchen and got busy cooking a small feast.
In part, it was to distract her mind from the knowledge that she’d agreed to drive up to the women’s state prison this Friday to see Bri. The elaborate meal was also an attempt at connecting with her father. She’d avoided meaningful conversation long enough. Jo’s letter had been playing through her mind since Friday night. Melody could almost hear the words in Jo’s lilting voice.
Don’t be too stubborn to forgive. But never forget because forgetting can turn you into a fool. True forgiving though, that lifts you to a level that few achieve. Accept each other and love while you can. Because life is fleeting, and sometimes the things that are lost can’t be found again.
Melody’s father wasn’t the same man who used to sing and dance and be silly in attempts to make his daughters laugh. For some reason, he had loved to sing “I Heard It Through the Grapevine” when he was cooking. Melody missed the man he’d been so much that it hurt to even entertain the brief memories. He was as gone as her mom and sister, and she was left with the lifeless shell he’d been since their passing. Even so, Melody wanted to honor Jo’s advice and at least try to have some sort of connection while she was here.
Just in case things got awkward at the table, Melody had a mental script prepared for tonight’s meal. As she’d prepared the beans, rice, and grilled chicken—the best she could find in the freezer and pantry—she’d come up with a dozen questions to get the conversation moving.
When had Aunt Jo purchased the thrift store?
How had Jo afforded it?
Did it turn a profit?
Why had Jo left it to Melody?
Then there were other questions that Melody had come up with, mostly about what her father had been doing with his time over the last few years. Melody should know the answers, but she didn’t. She’d called far too seldom. She’d run away from everything in life—and everyone. Could her father really blame her for being so standoffish though? After that fight they’d had the last night she was in Trove Isle?
The smoke detector started shrieking just about the time her father walked through the front door. Melody grabbed a dish towel and waved it frantically under the detector’s vents. “Shh-shh!”
“Melody?” Her father headed into the kitchen. “What’s all this?” he asked, standing rooted in the entryway for a moment as he observed Melody’s frantic waving of the dish cloth at the plume of smoke coming from one of the dishes.
“Dinner,” she said over the alarm. “Unless I burn your house down first.”
He grabbed a towel from a nearby cabinet and together they fanned the smoke until the detectors abruptly stopped shrieking. “You cooked for me?” he finally asked.
“Well, I’ve got to eat and so do you,” she told him with a nervous shrug. “We might as well do it together, right?” To this point, dinners had been a box of S’mores Pop Tarts that she’d packed in her suitcase before arriving on the isle.
Her father gave her a long look and then assessed the food on the range, lifting his face as he seemed to sniff the air. “It smells delicious.”
“Well, don’t expect too much. I don’t cook very often. I usually get take-out or eat cereal.” She didn’t explain that it was most often the latter because she couldn’t afford the drive-through more than once or twice a week.
Her father looked serious. “A cereal dinner isn’t healthy.”
“Well, tonight we have a nutritious meal.” She forced a smile that felt a little nervous and wobbly. She hoped he didn’t notice. “Are you hungry? It’s ready when you are.”
“I’m starving actually.” He tipped his head to gesture down the hall. “I’ll just go wash up and be right out.”
Nervous butterflies fluttered around in her chest as she waited. She had a lot of questions for her father, but some part of her also just wanted to spend time with him. She was getting used to being okay with the awkwardness and the silence that happened with people you were supposed to know, but didn’t anymore.
She prepared them both a dish and brought it to the table. She didn’t know his tastes or if he even liked ketchup. But ketchup covered many culinary sins, which she’d likely committed with this meal so she placed it in the center of the table just in case.
A minute later, her father stepped back into the kitchen and looked at the dinner. “This is nice.”
She placed a pitcher of sweet tea down and then pulled out her chair. They both sat for a quiet moment.
“I’ll say grace,” her father finally said, surprising her. Melody’s mother had never placed a morsel of food in her mouth without first blessing the food. Once her mother had died though, saying grace had gone to the wayside.
“Oh, okay.” Melody watched her father close his eyes. As he began to speak, she did the same.
“Dear Lord, thank you for this food. And for Melody returning home. Amen.”
They both opened their eyes and looked at each other. Apparently, he was a man of few words with God too. Good to know it wasn’t just her.
He picked up his fork and stabbed at a few beans. Melody did the same. Since he wasn’t initiating any conversation, she brought up her mental list of questions.
“So, I wanted to ask you about Jo.”
He lifted his gaze as he forked some beans into his mouth. “What about her?”
“Well, where did the store come from? I mean, why did she open it? When?” That was technically three questions all in one, but Melody was eager for answers.
Her father picked up his fork and knife. He expertly cut his chicken and forked a piece into his mouth, chewing quietly and for so long that Melody wondered if he wasn’t going to respond. “Jo was a hoarder of sorts. Sometimes people take their dysfunction and make it functional. I suppose that’s what she did.”
Melody could relate. After her mother died, she’d gotten wrapped up in planning her days. Everything was structured, organized, and in its place. Somehow that was comforting to her. Planning events had evolved naturally from that coping mechanism. “So, she just decided to open a store? Where did the money come from?”
“Mr. Lyme, I suppose.” A small grin curved through her father’s weathered cheeks. “As you already know, they had a thing, the two of them. Neither was interested in marriage. At least not in this life. I guess, according to her letter, she’s open to it in the afterlife.” He chuckled dryly. “But Mr. Lyme supported her and she did the same for him.” He paused his eating for a moment and looked at Melody. “Your aunt had a special talent. That’s what everyone in the town liked to say. When a person walked into her thrift store, she could tell exactly what they were looking for. They might not even know themselves, but Jo knew.” He chuckled softly and took another bite of food.
Then he continued to talk without the rest of Melody’s slew of questions. He ate and talked while Melody listened, fascinated by every word.
Finally, he paused. Melody wondered if he’d said that much to anyone in an entire year.
“Aunt Jo had something of mine in her thrift store,” she said. “The charm bracelet that I shared with my friends. It was lost.” Melody withheld mentioning the accident. She and her father had a good thing going tonight, and she didn’t want to ruin it. “I’m not sure why she had it or where it came from.”
Her father looked at her with interest. “Well, that was part of Jo’s talent, I guess. She found things and put them where they were supposed to be. She was waiting for you to return. She always knew you would. I guess you were one of those lost things in her mind. And bringing you back here for the store was her way of putting you right back where she thought you belonged.”
Melody wanted to say she didn’t belong here anymore, but she didn’t want to see the pain those words might inflict on her father’s face. And part of her didn’t fully believe that was true now. Something inside her, long buried, was coming back to life. She was breathing a little deeper and thinking a little more clearly. “Jo added charms to our bracelet. I guess she was the one who added them, at least.” Melody shrugged. “They’re random charms that don’t seem to mean anything.”
Her father picked up his glass of tea, sipping quietly. “Everything Jo did had meaning. Your aunt was a bit . . .”—he hesitated—“peculiar. But she was a good woman. The last time I walked into Hidden Treasures, Jo pointed me to a rack of ties.” He lifted the one he was wearing off his chest. “She said this tie would bring me good luck.”
Melody assessed the emerald-green neckwear with yellow pinstripes. “Why?”
He dropped the tie back to his chest. “That’s just what she told me. It never brought me any good fortune that I could tell though. Until tonight. Perhaps I should wear this tie more often.”
Melody chewed her food quietly, feeling the burn of tears behind her eyes. There were a lot of unsaid things in her father’s words. If she was listening, he wasn’t just talking about wearing the tie more often. He was talking about spending time with her. Maybe she wasn’t the daughter he barely tolerated anymore. Perhaps he missed her as much as she hadn’t realized she’d missed him. “It’s a nice tie,” she said quietly. “You should wear it more often.”
To: Bri Johnson
From: Liz Dawson
Subject: Liz Dawson Upgrades
Bri,
Project Liz 2.0:
Step one: I’m going back to see Dr. Mayer. It’s been awhile, and therapy always helped me feel calmer. I don’t know why I ever stopped. Life got busy, I guess, and I got tired of talking myself in circles. Nothing seemed to change, but that’s mostly because I wasn’t fully doing the work. I know that. I want to try again. I want to try harder.
Step two: I’ve decided that I’m going to talk to my mom when she returns from Ecuador. I don’t need to quit the bakery, but maybe I can cut my hours and focus on photography jobs. So, to prepare, I’m going to print some business cards. That’s a start. Psst . . . Of course my mom will hire you after I leave. You’re family, Bri.
Step three: I can’t believe I’m going to say this, and it might take a while to make it happen, but I’m going to get my driver’s license. I need to drive in order to take on jobs. Just the thought is making me feel a little breathless. See step one.
xx,
Liz