4. Jules
Jules
B y the time I make it to my brother’s house for dinner and to pack up the last of my things, my case of the grumps from earlier has doubled.
Actually, I can’t even classify it as being grumpy. I’ve fully morphed into simmering anger.
I don’t even want to be around myself, much less my brother, his wife, and their adorable but extremely loud clan of little Steves.
They aren’t even children, just a pack of wild hooligans.
While I’ve appreciated their sanctuary while I was getting my life in order, it was definitely time to move on.
“Yo, Sis. What’s up?” my brother greets as I walk in the door from the garage after navigating endless little-kid riding toys in the drive. They play with them and dump them wherever. It’s total chaos.
Steve’s a giant barrel-chested man who looks like a Viking and sounds like he eats gravel. He scares the baddest of asses.
“Bubs… ”
“Who am I crushing?” he growls before I can even launch into my issue.
I sigh. I should’ve known he’d overreact. And I can’t handle any more added to this day.
I raise a hand. “Just chill, please.”
“Julianne. You’re standing there looking like someone stole your dog.”
“Someone did. Namely, your kids.”
He grinds his teeth at that because he knows I’m speaking the truth.
“You were the one who took an apartment that didn’t allow dogs.” He digs in the fridge and pulls out two cold beers, then ushers me to the back porch.
It’s quiet; the kids are all inside, either locked in their rooms or having their lone hour of device time, and my dog is nestled up in the midst of them.
“Yeah, well. He’s happier here with a yard to run in and kids to play with anyway. It wouldn’t be fair to him to lock him away all day.”
“He’s a cute dog. But he’s not what’s bothering you.”
I sigh. “I can’t get in touch with my contractor.”
Steve gives me a look—the kind that says I told you so .
“I know, I know,” I concede. “I didn’t take your advice and hired the guy you didn’t like.”
He gives me another look before taking a long pull on his beer.
I can’t handle the weight of his gaze. It says that I’m a thirty-eight-year-old divorcée who’s been relying on him for the roof over my head for the past two years. But it also says there’s no rush for me to make this happen.
And he’s wrong.
“You insisted on me not paying rent while I was living here,” I say. “I’m truly grateful. I needed the time and space to get my bearings. To heal. But now I need to move forward. I can’t stay in this limbo state forever. Plus, you have one less mouth to feed now.”
“Look,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“You’d barely made it out the other side of a nasty divorce and had nowhere to go after the tornado.
You’re my baby sister. I’m not going to throw you out on the streets.
Especially when I’ve got a perfectly suitable room for you to crash in here with us.
These two years have been a little hard, and I know you’re ready to have a place of your own.
To start over, to start your business. But be smart.
Also, trust me when I say we’ve always got room for you. ”
My eyes burn with tears that I refuse to let fall. “I love you, bubba. Even if I’m tired of listening to your tantrums.”
He chuckles, but we both know he’s not the one throwing the tantrum. His wife, who nannies four kids while also being a stay-at-home mom to their five, throws one on a regular basis because, though the woman is a saint, she’s also exhausted.
“Come on, let’s go see if we can help with snack time. Then we’ll move the rest of your stuff.”
I add the last of the totes to the stack that lines the hallway and stand back to let Steve admire my new studio apartment.
Late-afternoon sunlight streams through the double window off the small living room, making the barren white walls that much brighter.
The efficiency kitchen houses my minimal pots and pans and my set of four dishes.
Three weeks of having my own place, and I’m finally getting settled. I might not have much in the way of amenities, but I have a wide balcony overlooking the bustling main street of Senoma. And finally, some peace and quiet from little-kid drama.
And hopefully those bustling pedestrians will soon be my patrons, because the storefront below my new apartment houses my future.
Senoma is growing, and everyone needs a good coffee, tea, or hot chocolate. And I’ve got big plans. I intend to take all my favorite parts of the Daily Brew and replicate them here, but also make it more . Make it mine.
As for the rest of it—I glance around the apartment—I have a place to rest, shower, and eat. That’s all I need.
But these totes? With their carefully wrapped contents? They are my future. The contents represent the sheer amount of work ahead of me.
“That the last of it?”
“Yep.”
The bulky shape of my big brother fills the doorway. “You’re sure I can’t convince you to come back to my house? At least until we get the shop up and running?”
“Nope.”
He pulls me in for a hug, his big bear paw cupping my head.
“I’m just gonna miss seeing you every day, Sis.
” The emotion in his voice has a similar effect on me, making my eyes sting and my throat tighten.
Sinking into the embrace, I savor the moment, because all too soon, he will be gone, and this interlude of togetherness will be over.
In time, he clears his throat and gives me a final pat on the back. “Have you met the neighbor yet?” he asks.
“Not in person,” I say, surreptitiously wiping the moisture from my eyes as I ease out of his arms. “But I was playing music one night, and they banged on the wall. I repaid that kindness by sending an order of fish to be delivered to their doorstep.”
Steve chuckles. “You should send a message through your Wi-Fi connections.”
“I thought about leaving a note telling them how I feel about their lack of musical tolerance, but I don’t know if I want to take a chance on seeing them face-to-face.”
“I guess it’s a good thing you don’t have to pass them in a hall if you’re going to be bickering with each other. But be careful.”
He drops the false attempt at laughter and wraps me in another hug.
“You’ve come a long way, Jules. You’ve survived a tornado.
Living with my chaotic family. All the bullshit you went through with that ex of yours.
” He pauses, and I feel him swallow. “Your new shop is going to be amazing, and everyone is gonna come get their coffee and tea and shit. You’re gonna be just fine, but I’m sure gonna miss having you around the house. ”
I draw in a deep breath and hold it for a second, letting his confidence soak into my bones.
Releasing that breath, I try to let my worries go with it. I’ve come too far, sacrificed too much, to give up now.
I give him a last squeeze and pull away. “Thanks. I needed that hug.”
“Any time and always,” he replies.
A half hour later, I turn the key and open the door to my future.
“I can see why you like it.” Steve scans the empty space with his hands on his hips. “It’s got great bones. Plenty of natural light. And a ton of foot traffic.”
“Yeah, the park gets used regularly. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen it empty.”
I survey the large room and let my imagination fill in the gaps of where the counter will go, seeing the full bookshelves and comfy couches in the back nook area, all the tables filled with people who’d come spend a moment of downtime in my cozy shop.
One wall is old brick, and the remnants of plaster walls create an interesting pattern. “Imagine art hanging on the walls from local artists. And full tables.”
“I can definitely see it.”
The front door opens, and a delivery guy pokes his head in. “Got a delivery for Jules.”
I smile. “That’s me.”
And just like that, my fears settle. Now it’s all about making a dream come true. About proving the demons in my past wrong.
All I’ve got to do is get the contractor to call me back.