Chapter 4 #2
Madeline nodded, not trusting herself to open her mouth, but that seemed enough of a response to encourage Aisha to continue.
She went on to share very personal details about her family background, including difficulties she was having surrounding the death of her adoptive mother a few years back and her struggles coming to terms with her dad being in a new relationship—with her birth mother, Sam, of all things.
When she mentioned she had a four-year-old daughter named Mo, Madeline blinked—then felt bad for doing so.
But Aisha looked so young. An old quote came back to her, something about how, when you are old, all mothers are young mothers.
Madeline wasn’t old, of course, no matter how it felt sometimes, but looking at Aisha, she felt the truth of the statement.
“Yes, I’m young,” Aisha said drily, reading her face. “I was seventeen when I had her.”
Madeline nodded.
“Anyway, long story short—oops, too late!”
Madeline smiled, then grinned, as Aisha rambled on still more about her extended family. Eventually, she got to her point: how her complicated family dynamics related to the idea for her store name.
“It’s like I, personally, was claimed by this new family.” She took a deep breath, then let out a slightly self-conscious sigh. “So yeah. Reclaimed. I already know the value of reshaping and remodeling pre-existing entities, and I’m deeply hoping I can appreciate the new version of my family.”
“It sounds like you already do,” Madeline said softly, then continued musing aloud, more for herself than Aisha.
“Making something over is a process, sometimes a tedious one. Plus, even when something’s ‘done,’ it never really is.
Every item can be adapted again and again.
Relationships are similar. They’re never static.
They change and grow—for better or worse—just like us. ”
“Yeah,” Aisha said. “Exactly.” She sounded surprised—awed, even—that Madeline got what she was trying to say.
Madeline crossed the airy room. Her throat ached, but she didn’t feel sad—or not exactly.
Flattening her hands on the wide windowsill, she stared out at the glorious rosebush and marveled at the timing of Aisha’s appearance in her life.
“Reclaimed,” she whispered. “It’s perfect, unbelievably perfect. ”
The floor creaked behind her, and she turned.
Aisha had started to follow her toward the window, but now she paused, looking uncomfortable.
Madeline got it. She’d overshared with strangers a time or two in her life as well.
Sometimes, for whatever reason, a person had strangely intimate conversations with people they hardly knew—and then it was easy to feel exposed and vulnerable.
Deciding that getting on with things was the best way to set Aisha’s mind at ease, Madeline clapped her hands once and let loose with her idea.
It didn’t matter whether she’d arrived at it out of the blue or not.
Her gut said it was right. “This might sound crazy, but I think you’re my hold-up, the reason I kept postponing my opening.
I was supposed to have . . . a partner in this scheme, but .
. . things changed.” She cleared her throat and forced a smile.
“Like my sign says, I’m committed to offering secondhand or upcycled items in addition to new wares.
This room is entirely Reclaimed, if you want it. As hands-off or hands-on as you want.”
It was Aisha’s turn to stare mutely—and it made Madeline want to laugh. She didn’t know her well yet, obviously, but she was already fairly certain that few things rendered Aisha speechless.
“You can be in charge of displaying your work, or I’ll do it—whatever you want. I’d like to sell your stuff on commission, but if you’d rather set up a monthly lease agreement, I’m fine with that too.”
When Aisha still didn’t say anything, Madeline worried a bit.
Maybe Aisha wanted more than she could offer.
“I can’t, at this stage anyway, afford to buy all your stock outright and just sell it myself, but if that’s what you’d prefer, I could start with a few of your bigger ticket items and incorporate them throughout the store—”
“I . . . I . . .” Aisha shook her head. “I didn’t come here to try and weasel my way into your store.”
Madeline’s heart panged. She couldn’t tell Aisha why she was so eager for her to get involved.
You remind me so much of my beloved daughter .
. . who’s dead. It would feel too weird, like pressure or something.
“I know that, but sometimes things work out in ways we couldn’t possibly foresee—or so I hope. ”
Aisha shook her head. “That came out wrong. What I meant to say is, I’m super excited, and I accept!”
Madeline laughed out loud, unable to help herself. What could she say? Aisha’s enthusiasm was . . . buoying.
“I’ll fill this room, and it will be just as lovely and interesting as the rest of your store,” Aisha promised, “and on commission is perfect. Does sixty-forty work for you? Like sixty for me, forty for you, I mean?”
“Absolutely.”
“And it’s not a deal-breaker or anything, not by a long shot, but if the designer friend I told you about, Katelyn, wants to be included, can I display and sell her pieces alongside mine?”
“Absolutely,” Madeline said again. “It’s your space. You figure out what you want in it—so long, of course, as she’s willing to accept the same terms you and I set up.”
Practically vibrating with excitement, her face and eyes glowing, Aisha stuck out her hand again. “I am so, so glad we met.”
“Ditto!” Madeline pumped Aisha’s hand enthusiastically.
“We should probably go over the specifics in more detail,” Aisha added, then glanced down at her phone, which she still clutched in her left hand.
“Rats! I’m really sorry. I’ve gotta get going.
When I stopped to spy, I had no idea I was going to be offered the best opportunity I could ever imagine. ”
Madeline bowed her head, a little choked up. She rallied though and grinned. “And to think I was mildly depressed earlier, feeling the shop was lacking . . . and now here you are, the very thing I knew I needed but couldn’t find on my own.”
Aisha glanced at her phone again, wincing. Madeline understood. “We could talk all day, but you need to go. Give me your cell number. I’ll text you, so you can add me and have my contact info.”
The quiet shop was even quieter without Aisha in it.
Funny how one person could make a place come alive.
Madeline waited until Aisha climbed into a little car parked across the street and drove away before she texted, “Please don’t get cold feet!
Come by with your stuff anytime next week! Bring Katelyn too, if you want.”
It didn’t take long to get Aisha’s reply—a string of excited emojis.
Then, as if concerned Madeline wouldn’t take her seriously, another more restrained and professional follow-up text arrived.
She thanked Madeline for the opportunity, suggested she draft a consignment contract, and told her she’d see her Monday.
Madeline sent back a thumbs-up, clapping hands, a party popper, two champagne glasses, and a cry-laughing cat face.
Then she laughed out loud again. After so many weeks of solitary work and a predictable see-saw between optimism for the future and dread, what a lovely—and surprising—day it had turned out to be.
She took the posters she’d made for Boots out of her messenger bag and taped a double-sided one to the door’s window, not the most esthetically pleasing door art, but highly visible, then taped another one up by the payment counter.
No doubt someone would respond to one of the many posters she’d hung up around town before the store opened, but the posters were cute, and putting them up here made her feel like she was mentally preparing for both saying good-bye to the cat and for seeing people in her store.
That done, she started rearranging the big window’s display.
Even though she hadn’t opened for business yet, she regularly changed the display to keep people aware that although the doors were still locked, there was plenty happening behind the scenes—and lots of fun stuff “in-store” for the future.
Come to think of it, that would be a great line to add to a couple of Instagram-worthy photos in coming weeks. She’d have to remember it.
As she worked, she was struck again by how quiet it was. Peaceful, sure, but for the first time, that hit her as wrong. “Peaceful” wasn’t the right atmosphere for a store. It should be welcoming and fun, busy and buzzing—the way it had felt while talking with Aisha.
Another thought occurred to her. She should buy a litter box and food dishes for the shop too.
Boots could keep her company at the store while she did final opening prep—and then she wouldn’t have to worry about the cuddly guy being lonely while she was away for long hours.
Plus, it would be convenient. If his family did come in, he’d be right there, ready and waiting for them.