Chapter 33
Boots had fared well enough in Madeline’s absence, kindly checked in on twice a day by Aisha and brought to the shop on the days it was open, but he had obviously missed her.
He curled up on top of her as she tried to get a few hours shut-eye before she was due to work, yowled for breakfast with more urgency than ever—which was great because she hadn’t heard the alarm she’d set—and then made it almost impossible to walk to work because he kept twining around her legs instead of following her as normal.
Madeline finally scooped him up and carried him, bending her face every so often to kiss his thick noggin.
They were both happy with this arrangement.
She frowned as she crossed the shop’s backyard and approached the door, though.
The flowerbeds were no longer what anyone—not even the kindest anyone—could call “slightly overgrown” or “natural.” They were a wild mess.
It was something she hadn’t given that much thought to when she’d purchased the property—how much work the large yard would be.
Luke, Zach, and Joe mowed for her, so the lawn wasn’t a nightmare, but it would be a shame to let the flowerbeds fail.
She hadn’t been able to pull it off this year—too busy—but next spring and summer, she envisioned using the yard as an outdoor extension of the shop, showcasing garden décor, maybe having old-fashioned tea parties with real china.
But for now, the day-to-day inside sales and steadily growing internet purchases kept her busy enough.
Just putting items online took so much time.
Too busy with sales. Imagine! It made her laugh aloud with gratitude—and shake her head at herself.
It was a lovely problem to have but still a problem.
She couldn’t do everything. As she dug in her bag for her key fob, her mind buzzed with the solution she knew she wanted but was unsure about how to present.
In the shop, she turned on all the lights and got busy clearing direct paths to the big storage room in the back and to the door to the basement.
Then she started moving things around, shrinking the space between items on the floor and on shelves.
She and Grant had decided to wait to bring the trailer over and unload it until the weekend, but she wanted to be ready.
She hadn’t been puttering for long when the door’s bells tinkled, and Aisha and her mom, Sam, walked in.
Madeline was getting used to seeing them together, but it was still a touch startling.
Sam’s naturally white-blonde hair was sleek and straight, while Aisha’s was a riot of curls.
Other than that, they were like mirror images—all the more striking because of their matched jade green eyes.
Before Madeline could thank her for watching the shop, Aisha exclaimed, “So what do you think?”
What did she think about what? And then the most obvious possibility occurred to her—but surely not. “Wait . . . No, you couldn’t have? Not so soon.”
But Aisha was nodding proudly and practically bouncing with excitement. “Five days was plenty.”
“Jase really is something,” Sam agreed.
Madeline raced toward the small bathroom, which she hadn’t even thought to check—and pressed her hand to her chest. It was as pretty as any picture and a perfect representation of early 60s dream decorating.
The pearly pink tub, sink, and toilet were as immaculate as Aisha had promised, and they shone against the white and black tiles Jase had expertly installed on all the walls and the floor.
Somehow, Aisha had got her hands on poodle-print towels—each dog sitting in an old-fashioned tub or holding an umbrella.
The combined effect was so fantastic, Madeline was speechless—a response that seemed to delight Aisha more than any words could have.
“Right?” she exclaimed. “That’s what I thought.”
Madeline couldn’t resist tapping her foot around the base of the toilet in relieved glee.
Aisha beamed. “An elephant could jump on this floor now. It’s going nowhere. Jase replaced the damaged support beams too.”
Gratitude made Madeline’s throat swell, and she tried to adequately express her thanks, but Aisha brushed her comments away. “Mom and I don’t have too long. Mo’s at a swimming lesson. Tell us about the trip. Did you get a lot of great stuff?”
Madeline happily obliged but found herself talking more about Grant and the wonderful time they’d had—and how wonderful he was—than about her loot.
“Then what happened?” Aisha was as excited as Madeline had ever seen her—and that was saying a lot because Aisha was always intensely excited or driven about one thing or another.
“Nothing,” Madeline admitted.
“Nothing?” Aisha shrieked like Madeline had let a team down or something. “You spend five days together in hotel rooms, he says those shiveringly lovely things and gives you that gorgeous ring . . . and nothing happened?”
“You know, if you don’t use it, you lose it,” Sam teased.
“Hah—I don’t think so. You might get a bit rusty or need a practice session or two, but it’s like riding a bicycle.”
Sam laughed with appreciation. “Oh, is it now?”
Aisha didn’t notice—or chose to ignore—her mother and Madeline’s innuendo. “Nothing?” she repeated. “Absolutely nothing?”
“Okay, not nothing,” Madeline amended. “We talked the whole way home. Couldn’t stop.
I love . . . that. That we never run out of things to talk about, I mean.
” She was babbling now but couldn’t help herself.
She had used the word love. Out loud. Talking about Grant.
To other people. And she didn’t feel sick or heartbroken or treacherous. She felt . . . elated—and honest.
That really made Aisha’s face fall. “Well, talking’s great, of course, and important . . . but it’s not very juicy.”
Sam lifted a wry, exquisitely shaped eyebrow.
“I don’t know about that. If just talking about talking makes her blush like that, the talk must be excellent.
” She winked, then became abruptly serious and aimed her next words to Madeline alone.
“Or, he really is someone you have deep feelings for, even if you’re uncomfortable with them. ”
It took effort not to react to Sam’s on-the-nose observation.
Obviously, the uncanny similarities between Aisha and her mother weren’t limited to looks.
They both called things as they saw them.
How mortifying. Her rosy face was due to another raging hot flash, not memories of her and Grant’s road trip chats—but let Aisha and Sam think what they wanted.
It was nice to seem a little racy instead of sad and pitiable, the way too many people saw her after they knew a bit of her past.
“I don’t know where it’s all going yet,” Madeline confessed, anxiety starting to flutter and chase away some of her giddy happiness. “We’re good friends, of course, but other than that . . . no clue. We might just leave it at that. We’re both a little—”
Thankfully, a customer entered the store and saved Madeline from trying to put her worries into words.
The customer, who introduced herself as Magda, looked to be in her late seventies, at least, with cropped white hair and small, merry walnut-brown eyes. She deposited a thick 9X12 inch harvest gold envelope on the counter. “You sell things on consignment? Well, I’ve got plenty if you want it.”
“What is ‘it’ exactly?” Madeline asked.
“See for yourself.”
So, Madeline did. She opened the envelope and withdrew a stack of photos that had been printed out on computer paper.
Assorted furniture pieces—most of which looked to be very old and of nice quality, though the eras and styles varied greatly.
Some looked almost Victorian. Some had the simple, hardy construction and utilitarian lines that characterized the postwar 40s.
Others were decidedly 60s mod. There was even a plump striped-and-floral print 80s living room set.
“Four generations of clutter in one house, mine, my mother’s, my grandma’s, and my grandmother’s mother’s,” Magda said, answering Madeline’s unvoiced question.
“I’m tired of rattling around my big place alone, and the stairs are getting too much for me.
I’m downsizing!” She said the last bit with an excited flourish.
“In fact,” she added, conspiratorially, “I’m moving into a one-room ground-level apartment, and my best gal from my school days is moving into the unit across the hall from me. Can you believe it? It’ll be like we’re roomies!”
Madeline smiled. “Sounds fun.”
“Yes, and I’m ready for some. It’s R&R time.”
Madeline took out a magnifying glass and studied some details in the photos more carefully.
“None of it’s like it was when it was new,” Magda said, understanding what had caught Madeline’s attention.
“And some of it—okay, I’m not going to lie, most of it—has seen heavy use and has some damage.
I had five children! There are dints and dents, scratches, the odd watermark, and spots where the finish is worn clean away.
One chair,” she frowned at this confession, “has a dog-chewed leg—but the lot of it is all the more beautiful because of it. More special than when it was glossy and glitzy but hadn’t seen anything of life yet.
Every piece is still serviceable and has a lot of life left in it.
They just need the right home. The right fit. ”
Madeline stared at Magda. The woman couldn’t possibly know the parallels she was drawing . . . She pulled herself back to the matter at hand. “That’s quite the sell job.”
Magda grinned, and her eyes sparkled. “The truth always is.”
Yes, Madeline thought. It was exactly like her and Grant.
They’d seen heavy wear but were still standing.
Their hearts were banged up and battered—but maybe they just needed the right home to keep on beating.
And Lord knew she found the guy beautiful.
She felt some last tendrils of her reserve slip away.
“There’s a lot of life left in most things,” she agreed.
“Does that mean—”
“Yes,” Madeline agreed. “I mean, I want to look at them in person, but especially if you’re open to selling on consignment, I’m sure I’ll take them. Absolutely.”
After Magda left, both Aisha and Sam shot Madeline such exaggeratedly knowing looks that Madeline had to laugh. “Okay, okay. All the messages from the universe are received loud and clear. I’ll go see him right after work.”
“You know what you want to do,” Sam said sagely. “So just put on your big girl panties and do it.”
“Totally!” Aisha agreed, then literally cheered. Madeline rolled her eyes—but inside, she thought it was actually kind of sweet.