Chapter 7
“What’s all the fuss about?” Dot demands as Dani, Mom, Gus, and I pile through the front door of the Salty Mermaid thirty minutes later, Mr. Butters in tow. “Dani texted me and said it was an emergency. Did somebody die?” Dot looks at all of us, alarmed.
“Everyone’s fine,” Mom hastens to reassure her. “But Emmie says she has some exciting news.” She glances at me questioningly.
As soon as Henry left, Dani volunteered to pick up Mom and Gus and bring them to Dot’s shop while I closed up the store a little early. We haven’t breathed a word about Henry being in town. We figured it was best to tell Dot and Mom at the same time.
“You won’t believe it,” Dani hisses dramatically, “but I saw it with my own eyes.”
“Oh?” Dot’s penciled eyebrows arch in curiosity. “Just a minute.” She turns the OPEN sign around to CLOSED on the front door. It’s a few minutes early to close, but the store was empty anyway. I did the same thing.
“Head on back to the table and make yourselves comfortable.” She points us to a small area at the back of the store where she hosts weekly mermaid- and nautical-themed craft nights.
I set Gus up behind the cash register with a cartoon on my phone and a bag of Pirate’s Booty.
He never gets to watch TV after school, so this is a rare treat.
Mr. Butters stays with Gus, sitting with his turgid little body pressed against Gus’s side, hoping to get lucky and snag some dropped snacks.
I gingerly navigate the crowded aisle of merchandise and head to the back of the store, careful not to topple any of the tchotchkes piled around.
Dot subscribes to the more-is-more method of decorating, and the store is stuffed with mounds of decorative pillows with slogans like “Beach hair, don’t care,” along with cable-knit lap blankets, soap dishes in the shape of seashells, glass vases filled with sand dollars, and all manner of mermaid-themed apparel.
It smells salty from the bay out back and like the candle Dot keeps burning during open hours, Sea Dreams. Apparently sea dreams smell a little like a fabric softener sheet.
We cluster around a table that Dot repurposed from driftwood.
“Okay, spill the beans. What’s going on?” Dot asks impatiently. Dot and Mom both look at us expectantly.
“Emmie?” Dani invites me with a dramatic swoop of her hand.
“Henry Summers just walked into the fudge shop,” I blurt out. “He’s here for the summer.” I still can’t believe it.
Mom gasps.
“Oh my stars.” Dot looks amazed. “Start from the beginning,” she instructs. “Don’t leave anything out.”
I describe our meeting in detail, how Henry told us he’s in town for the summer finishing up a food memoir, how he groaned when he tasted my caramel.
I don’t tell them how I wanted to sniff him to see if he smells like bergamot.
When I’m done, I’m trembling all over again from excitement and nerves.
“Does this mean your vision was the real deal then?” Dot demands when I’m finished.
“I don’t know. Maybe?” I glance at Mom, who is beaming.
“Oh my goodness!” Mom whispers. “I knew it! I knew it wasn’t just wishful thinking. Oh, Emmie!” She hugs me tightly, elated.
I hug her back, feeling a flutter of apprehension and excitement. “I can’t believe he’s actually here,” I say aloud. It still seems like a dream. I keep wanting to pinch myself. Mom lets me go, but her eyes are shiny. I have a feeling she’s picturing me in a wedding dress already.
“So what now?” Dot asks. “I mean, there’s a long way between this guy stopping in to the shop and him proposing marriage.”
“We need to help Emmie make her dream a reality,” Dani announces. “We need a plan.”
She finds a piece of junk mail in her giant purse and pulls a pen from her bun. Apparently it was the only thing holding up her hair because it tumbles around her in a cloud of dark curls. She taps her pen to her lips and narrows her eyes. “Where do we start?”
“If it’s destiny, won’t it just come true?” Dot asks.
“It can’t hurt to help it along a little, right?” Dani looks at Mom. “What do you think, Gwen?”
Mom clears her throat. “The visions show us our purpose in life, but that doesn’t mean we can just sit there and wait for the future to come to us.
We still have to pursue it. We have to act to bring it about.
When I saw my vision with Bert, with us running our shop, I knew it was our destiny, but we still had to do all the hard work to turn it into reality.
Now it’s Emmie’s turn to help her dream come true. So yes, a plan would be good.”
They all three turn and look at me. I stare back at them blankly. I have no idea what to do.
“Um, anyone have any bright ideas?” I ask.
“Emmie, can you tell us your vision again? Give us as much detail as possible,” Mom instructs. Slowly, I do, closing my eyes and trying to picture it all clearly as I describe it to them. Dani scribbles down the details on the junk mail as Mom and Dot listen intently.
“Is that all?” Dani asks when I finish talking. We all stare at the paper. She’s written down every detail I can remember.
“That’s all I can think of.”
“Okay, we need a plan of action.” Dani fishes around for more paper in her bag and finds a napkin from Byrdie’s Coffee, my all-time favorite local coffee place in Poulsbo.
“What are the steps Emmie needs to get from here to seeing her vision come true?” Dani loves a good plan.
She makes detailed goals for herself every year and keeps lists for everything.
“It sounds like she needs that chocolate shop she’s been talking about for years,” Dot says practically. Dani writes it down.
“And Emmie and Henry will have to fall in love,” Mom says softly. Her eyes are bright with anticipation.
“I need to find that floaty yellow dress,” I pipe up.
That sounds like an enjoyable challenge.
I can’t remember the last time I splurged on something that wasn’t practical.
Replacing my floral cotton underwear and a new three-pack of black leggings from is as luxe as I’ve gotten in recent years.
The thought of a little glamour is exciting. My life in Paris feels far away.
“And you’ll need Henry to give you an engagement ring and propose.” Dani nods, satisfied. She sits back.
We all crowd around to look at the list.
To-Do List
· Henry + Emmie fall in love
· Chocolate shop
· Yellow dress
· Engagement ring + proposal
It’s crazy to see it written out in her big, loopy handwriting. This is the list of steps to make my vision come true. Are we really just going to make it happen? How?
“Also, Emmie, you need to pamper yourself,” Dani announces. “Trust me, reinita. Manicure, pedicure, new haircut, new lingerie…A full glow-up.”
“Hey,” I protest. “That isn’t part of the vision. I’m fine as I am.”
They all turn and survey me. I glance down at my jean cutoffs and fitted pale blue tee.
At least when Henry came in I was wearing lip gloss and my hair was clean.
It could have been way worse. It’s often worse.
“Last week you told me I look like a young Reese Witherspoon and any man would be lucky to have me,” I remind Dani. “What changed?”
She waffles. “Well…I was being nice.”
“Baby girl,” Dot interrupts, laying her large, calloused hand on my shoulder.
“You are beautiful and kind and sweet as sugar, and any man would be lucky to have you. You don’t need to change a thing.
But you’re talking about trying to catch the eye of a famous TV star, a man who’s surrounded by actresses and Hollywood types.
If you want Henry to fall in love with you, maybe a little help wouldn’t be a bad idea. ”
“A little freshening up,” Mom offers gently. “To highlight your natural beauty.”
“Start with a new bra,” Dani interjects, eyeing my chest in concern.
“I’m fine,” I tell them stubbornly, crossing my arms over my breasts self-consciously. “I’m not going to twist myself into a pretzel to try to compete with Hollywood actresses. That’s ridiculous.”
As if I even could. I’m a thirty-four-year-old woman, a mom.
I have a little soft, rounded jiggle of a belly from carrying Gus, and my breasts aren’t as perky as they were before breastfeeding that little guzzler.
I have some split ends because I keep forgetting to make a hair appointment.
I’m pretty, but in a slightly tired, girl-next-door way, not Hollywood glamour and sex appeal.
I know this is just who I am, and I refuse to try to make myself into a glossy magazine version of Emmie.
Either Henry will like the real me or he won’t.
Then I glance at my dingy gray bra strap peeking out of my shirt, catch a glimpse of my chewed nails, brush back my slightly too-long bangs, and sigh.
Okay, I get it. I don’t need to change anything for Henry, but maybe I want to change a few things for me, small things that could help me feel like the shiniest and best version of myself—still me, but a slightly less worn-out, tired me.
It’s been many years since Paris. It would be nice to regain some of my joie de vivre.
I make a mental note to buy some new, pretty matching bras and underwear, because saggy gray is not a good look on anyone.
And I guess a bang trim wouldn’t hurt. And a manicure.
“I’ll make a hair appointment with Candace,” I agree reluctantly. “And another for a mani-pedi at the Nail Boat.”
Dani nods approvingly. “And don’t forget the bra. Go for maximum push-up,” she urges, making a lifting motion to illustrate.
“So where do we start on the list?” Dot asks with a frown. “That’s a lot to tackle.”
Mom clears her throat and shifts uncomfortably in the hard folding chair.
Sitting for any length of time gets painful on her joints.
“Emmie needs to find a way to spend time with Henry,” she muses.
“Everything else will come later, but they need a chance to get to know each other. Falling in love takes time.”
“Good idea,” Dani says. She purses her lips, thinking. “Emmie, did he tell you where he’s staying?”
“I know where he is,” Dot interjects. “Mary Beth Douglas told me last week that she’d rented her little beach cabin out to some cute British guy. It has to be him.”
Mom claps her hands in delight. “Oh, this is good news!” she exclaims. “Now we need to figure out a way for Emmie to see Henry as soon as possible.”
I swallow nervously. Are we really doing this?
“Okay, we have the first action point in our plan,” Dani says, handing me the napkin with the bullet-point list on it. “Step one, give Emmie and Henry a chance to fall in love.”