Chapter 20
Madeline entered the shop behind Boots and flicked on the lights without bothering to relock the door, even though it wasn’t quite opening time.
Then she moved through the shop with a soft cloth, dusting and restoring items shuffled around by shoppers the day before to their proper spots or placement, so they looked their best. These quiet moments before the shop opened were still her favorite.
As she worked, she wondered idly what Grant had on his agenda for the day.
He’d been busy the past week, and so had Madeline.
To be honest, it was kind of a relief, even though her whole body ached to be with him—exactly why the distance was good.
Not spending every spare minute with Grant was a much-needed break for her libido and for her brain.
She had a business to run! More time at the shop in the evenings was definitely handy.
She’d sorely underestimated how busy she’d be during the day and how much time the bookkeeping, advertising, website maintenance, and online storefront would consume.
She was keeping on top of it all, but barely.
Financially, however, it still felt too risky to hire someone to take on any of those tasks.
Maybe, if her sales continued as they had so far, it would be viable at her six-month mark?
It would be great to have help in time for Christmas.
She glanced out the window into the jungle of a backyard—and winced.
If not for Christmas, definitely by spring.
Someone to take care of the lawn and flowerbeds would be one of the first jobs she outsourced.
She was terrible at keeping on top of them, plus didn’t know a lot about gardening.
She loved flowers—to look at, but that was about it.
She understood the town’s name now. Greenridge was very green.
With its overabundance of rain and cool weather, grass, weeds, and plants of every variety went crazy.
Oh, well. There was nothing she could do about the yard at the moment, and fretting wouldn’t help.
Madeline busied herself tidying and rehanging a rack of vintage dresses ransacked by a group of excited teenage girls the day before, checking her phone for the time every so often as she did.
Aisha was due any minute because she’d agreed to cover some shifts in the store while Madeline made her first buying trip since opening.
Madeline needed to give her keys and go over the point-of-sale system.
Exciting! Even with the addition of some of Grant’s bigger pieces of gorgeous furniture, the shop had spaces she’d like to see filled.
Grant. How easily and often her mind turned to him these days. It was terrifying.
The door jingled. Madeline stepped around the dress rack with a big smile, grateful for the distraction, expecting to see Aisha and, with any luck, funny little firecracker Mo, too.
It wasn’t Aisha, however. It was Gwen, an equally nice surprise.
Since their very personal chat, they’d only seen each other a couple of times, very briefly.
First, when Gwen brought her grandkids for a picnic in the yard as she’d promised Madeline would.
Second, when Gwen had dropped off the blackberries that Madeline took to the lake for her and Grant—
She cut off that thought. Stop obsessing about him, she begged her head. Just. Stop.
“Hello,” she called.
Gwen, who’d been glancing toward the front counter and seemed distracted, visibly jumped.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Gwen shook her head, coloring. “Don’t mind me. I’m just a goose today.”
It was such a funny expression that Madeline laughed. “Okay, goose, so to what do I owe this honor? You’ve got a day pass again?”
Gwen finally relaxed and smiled. “And it wasn’t even due to good behavior this time.”
“Now, that sounds fun.”
“Nah.” Gwen shook her head. “I just wanted to sound interesting.” She held up a bag, sort of shyly. “I came by because I have something for you.”
Madeline cocked her head, took the paper bag, and reached inside.
Before her fingers even touched the bag’s contents, giving her any inkling of what the gift was, Gwen started to apologize.
“It’s just something little, and it’s kind of ridiculous really, especially when you’re surrounded by lovely things every day. It’s okay if you don’t like it.”
But Madeline hardly heard her. She had withdrawn the bag’s contents and let the empty bag fall to the floor.
“Oh, my goodness,” Madeline whispered—then her eyes shot up to Gwen’s.
“It’s so beautiful. I can’t even . . .” She stared down again at the saucer-less teacup she’d sold to Gwen those weeks back.
It was nestled in a foam-packed box to keep it from shifting or getting destroyed in transport, and it was a marvel.
A tiny fairy garden of various miniature succulents, complete with a small stone path and a lovely pond that Madeline thought was made from an old compact’s mirror.
A purple-winged fairy sat on a little bench by the pond, almost hidden by greenery.
Madeline looked closer, then laughed with surprise.
“The fairy—she’s noticeably middle-aged, not a kid. ”
Some tension seemed to leave Gwen’s body as she realized Madeline wasn’t merely being kind. She really was enamored with the gift. “I know. Pretty great, right? I found this whole set of old fairies online.”
Madeline laughed. “Not ‘pretty great.’ Super great.”
Next, Madeline’s eyes lit on a tiny wooden sign with a prettily written message.
She squinted, wishing she had her reading glasses on, then made it out.
Never stop dreaming. Madeline’s eyes lifted to Gwen’s again.
“I . . . I don’t know what to say. The whole thing is just . . . so sweet. I love it.”
Gwen turned a happy pink, and she fluttered her hand dismissively.
“It’s nothing. I just really like plants, and when I came across this craft idea online, I figured the kids would have fun making them with me, and well, I thought they turned out pretty cute.
I hoped you might get a kick out of them too. ”
“I love it,” Madeline said again, “and I adore the message. Thank you.” She carefully pulled the little treasure from its protective box and set it in a safe spot on the payment counter, where it had good light and where everyone who came in would be able to see it, but it wouldn’t get knocked down.
After a few more minutes of small talk, Gwen looked at her phone, and a slightly panicked expression creased her face. “I’m sorry. I’ve got to run.”
Madeline couldn’t help but notice, however, that despite Gwen’s self-professed need to hurry off, she paused on the porch to remove withered blooms from some of the petunias cascading from a planter box affixed to the railing.
Watching her, Madeline tapped a finger against her mouth, the seed of an idea sprouting—except, no, it probably wouldn’t work.
Gwen had a full-time job as it was. She probably didn’t need the added stress of trying to fit in one more thing, especially for the meager pay that Madeline could afford right now.
It was a shame, though. Gwen seemed like the perfect fit for Madeline’s budding needs, plus Madeline wouldn’t mind sharing the shop with her.
It was a bit funny, perhaps, but she felt protective of her shop.
Anyone was welcome to visit, whether to buy or just browse, but when it came to working with someone, she had decided to adopt a firm kindred-spirits-only policy.
Boots, who’d been asleep on the floor in the middle of the most direct route to the coffee maker—of course—lifted his head and opened one eye, as if saying, You ask a lot, don’t you?
She laughed. “Don’t judge me, cat. I spent a lot of years accommodating others. I can be a bit picky if I want to be now. Besides, like the cup says, keep dreaming, right?”
Boots lifted his furry shoulders in a stretch that looked a whole lot like a big old shrug.
A customer came in then, and Madeline’s day officially started—and went by at a peaceful but quick pace. Aisha showed up in the late afternoon to pick up keys, discuss the dates Madeline had in mind, and go over the point-of-sale system—which she caught onto immediately.
Before Madeline knew it, it was nearly time to close up for the night. She texted Grant to see if he could meet for dinner and also asked if he wanted help at his dad’s later. She was a little surprised when she got a text back declining both offers but tried to shrug it off.
“Looks like it’s just you, me, and sushi, Cat,” she told Boots in a slightly too loud, too cheery way. It had been a long time since she’d had sushi, though. She and Grant had planned to go, but then they’d gotten too busy with lake trips.
Grant. In her head. Again. Rats. She checked her phone for the time—quarter to.
Someone might still come in, and she never wanted to shut down early and run the risk of having people feel her hours weren’t dependable.
Deciding to use the spare minutes to unpack a box of china she’d taken on consignment earlier in the day, she headed to the dining room section of the shop.
It had been such a peaceful, nondescript day—and such a long time since she’d heard a peep out of any of them—that when it happened, her heart hit her sternum, and she almost dropped the sugar bowl she was holding.
The voice was petulant, spoiling for a fight. You never think about me anymore, do you? Only him.
Oh, for the love of everything merciful in the world.
Lyle. At the worst time, of course. Why couldn’t he ever pipe up while she was remembering some of their positives?
Recalling the certain tone he used that drove her wild with irritation set the peace she’d been trying so desperately to achieve with him back several notches.
She put the sugar dish down on a nearby dining table with careful deliberation—an action that she knew conveyed her own anger. Then, stalling for time, she fiddled with her phone and finally laid it to rest on the table too.
“You died, Lyle. That’s not my fault. And I grieved for you. I do grieve—”
Hah.
Madeline tried a different tack. She’d been through this song and dance a million times before.
“You’re lucky that dish didn’t crash to the floor!
It’s a commission set, and with all its pieces intact, it should easily bring in close to two grand—making my cut a helpful sum, thank you very much.
I can’t afford to buy it outright, especially if it’s damaged. ”
Sounds more like you’re lucky then, said Lyle.
Okay, this was ridiculous. She wasn’t going to use whatever time they already didn’t have left to bicker like bratty children. Madeline closed her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said, and she was.
That’s a first.
She took the comment on the chin and didn’t bother to point out that he was equally capable of holding a grudge and not letting things go.
“I loved you, Lyle, and you loved me.” The truth of the words hit her hard, and she realized she wasn’t just trying to placate him or herself. They had loved each other. That’s why trying to get over him was so . . . awful. Why she felt so terrible that he’d died when they were having a rough—
So why did you leave everything tangible that reminds you of us behind then?
That doesn’t feel like love. It feels like you’re trying to forget.
Lyle’s voice was thick. She imagined him by the window, as translucent as the glass he stood by.
And he wasn’t alone. Ronny was there, quiet for once.
And Lauren, who looked uncomfortable and irritated, the way she always did whenever her parents fought.
The three people who had made her heart complete, who had practically been her heart, actually—all there, but ever, always beyond her reach.
Madeline shivered and wished she had a sweater or that a hot flash would hit.
They never came when you wanted them to, though, did they?
Don’t worry, Mom. I know you love me—love us.
“Thanks, baby.” Madeline’s eyes brimmed. She looked down at her phone, then traced one finger along the edge of its rubbery protective case.
After a long while, she looked up again.
Lyle was still there. Ronny and Lauren were not.
Madeline’s chest hurt, and her breathing was ragged.
“I know you don’t understand, Lyle, and I can’t help you there because I don’t understand either.
I don’t . . . understand any of this. But I had to go.
I had to leave you. Had to disentangle me.
You were everywhere I was all the time, smothering me, never giving me any peace.
We couldn’t keep going like that. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t survive it.”
Lyle was fading fast.
“I’m sorry, though. So sorry. I’d change everything if I could. Everything.” Her shoulders were shaking so hard her teeth chattered—and then she heard a noise from the other side of the room behind her, the living side.
But how could that be? She’d locked the door, hadn’t she?
She groaned aloud as she remembered that no, she hadn’t because it hadn’t been closing time right on the dot.
Her mind was still wailing. It was hard to think.
This was not a complication she needed. Whoever this was, how could she ever explain herself?
She turned slowly, her limbs and joints leaden with dread.
And there was Grant in the dining room’s arched doorway.
For the amount of time that passes between slicing your finger with a knife and feeling the cut, relief hit warm and bright.
Grant. Thank God! Exactly who she needed.
She felt herself relax. And then the expression on his face registered with her.
The hardness in his jaw. The flatness of his eyes as he stared like he’d never seen her before.
The warm feeling froze, then shattered. The brightness blinked out. Pain came.