Chapter 7
Tallulah
The door to my store opened, and I turned from rearranging my organic teas on one of the shelves. Mrs. Chen from the Far East Market next door walked in.
"Hello, Tallulah," she said with a little wave, strolling over.
Mrs. Chen was almost eighty years old, but if not for her gray hairs, you wouldn't know it.
She was very agile, walking around the building several times a day as a form of exercise.
She also did Tai Chi in the park on Saturdays with a group of Chinese women.
I had tried more than once to convince her to teach classes for me, but she had always declined.
Her eyes crinkled in the corners as she surveyed the shelves I had been working on. She rested her hands on her hips. "Moving things around again? When will you be satisfied?" she asked.
I laughed at her teasing. "When I die," I said.
She tutted. "Do not talk like that. I saw a lot of people with their yoga mats today. Julie must have a full class."
Julie was a yoga instructor who rented space from me and conducted classes Monday through Saturday.
Behind a half wall at the back of the store was a hallway leading to a quieter part of the center.
The yoga studio occupied the largest room in the back, with bamboo floors, a mirrored wall, and dimmed lights.
She taught a couple of classes during the day, and one after the shop closed.
Two smaller rooms located farther down the hall were also rented.
One for massage therapy and the other for treatments like reiki and reflexology.
"Almost," I replied. "Wednesdays are becoming popular, it seems. I think people are stressed and need a midweek break."
Mrs. Chen hummed her agreement. "I can understand that."
After years of knowing each other, we didn't need to talk all the time and fell into an easy silence while she browsed the supplements, and I continued rearranging the teas. We'd had plenty of long conversations over the years and occasionally ate lunch together—either in my store or hers.
My wellness center wasn't big and fancy, but I was proud of it.
I hadn't always wanted to be a business owner, but running the store combined my desire to help others with the ability to earn a living.
I was proud of my little spot, and every inch of space was carefully used.
The calming, clean scent of citrus and ginger from infused oils filled the air, and the small refrigerator hummed quietly near the counter, filled with my latest kombucha inventory.
Yoga mats stood upright in a wicker basket near books on mindfulness and proper nutrition.
My essential oils collection was vast, as were my natural skincare products and herbal supplements.
A small table showcased healing crystals.
I didn't sell many, but I liked to keep them on hand for customers who needed them.
My bestsellers were rose quartz for balance and calm—a personal favorite of mine—lapis lazuli for inner strength, and citrine for confidence and success.
Healthy snacks occupied a rack in one corner: trail mixes, protein bars, dark chocolate sweetened with dates.
I also stacked them on the counter for impulse purchases.
When Blossom used to work in the store with me, she'd sneak some of the chocolate or the trail mix with chocolate pieces.
Hard to believe those days were long gone and my only child was getting married.
Married!
Mrs. Chen turned her attention to me, tilting her head slightly. "Why did you sigh?"
"I sighed?"
"Yes. Something is on your mind."
I straightened a box of ginger root tea and this time consciously released a sigh. "Blossom got engaged last week."
Mrs. Chen's face lit up. "That is wonderful news! Congratulations!" The smile faded from her face. "You are not happy."
"The engagement was a surprise."
"Oh."
"I met her fiancé for the first time on Friday night."
Mrs. Chen raised a surprised eyebrow.
"No ring," I continued. "Just—" I waved a hand vaguely "—impulse and romance and youth."
She chuckled. "Very modern. Sounds like something my grandchildren would do."
"We met the fiancé and his father for dinner, and it was a mess. His name is Manuel, his father's name is Jamison—and he's as stuffy as his name implies," I added.
Mrs. Chen's smile softened. "How bad was the mess?"
"Catastrophic." I pressed my lips together. "The father is insufferably rude, a complete square, and a tightwad. He's as bad as my ex-husband, maybe worse."
I told her everything, from the time Blossom dropped the unexpected invitation on me to the dinner that started a bit awkwardly before progressing along fine and then ending like a volcanic eruption. I was honest about my role in the blow-up.
I ended with another sigh, this one louder and longer. "My daughter wants me to apologize to him."
I had intended to contact Jamison yesterday, but I'd been busy most of the day, and since last night was the final class in my meditation series until the fall, I had stayed late to talk to students who needed additional help.
Mrs. Chen cocked her head. "She wants you to apologize to the father?"
"Yes. To Jamison."
Mrs. Chen nodded slowly. "Pride is a heavy burden to carry. Very tiring."
I let out a humorless laugh. "You don't have to tell me."
She straightened a box of oolong tea. "We have a saying." She said some words in Chinese, her voice solemn and even-toned before she translated them. "Harmony is precious. If a family lives in harmony, all affairs will prosper."
Her words settled in my chest. Basically, peace was more important than being right. Mrs. Chen often doled out advice in the same way—in a soft voice, gently, referencing some ancient Chinese saying. I had no idea if what she told me were truly Chinese proverbs, but she always made sense.
"You're right," I said.
She squeezed my hand. "The situation will improve. Blossom is a good girl. She is smart. You raised her well."
A lump appeared in my throat. My biggest worry was that I'd somehow screwed up my kid. I knew my belief system and lifestyle were odd to many people, and I'd made my share of mistakes in life. The last thing I wanted to do was raise a human who turned out to be a mess.
"Thank you. You're very kind."
"I am not being kind. I am telling you the truth. You—"
The front door opened, and in strolled Jamison Harris. I blinked, surprised. He caught sight of me and walked over, looking handsomely dapper. My body tensed with awareness.
No smile on his face, so I didn't smile either.
"Ms. Washington," he greeted in a neutral tone.
I didn't bother to remind him to call me Tallulah. "Jamison, what are you doing here?"
"Do you have a moment to talk—in private?" He smiled politely at Mrs. Chen.
She smiled back. "I was about to leave. We can continue our conversation later," she said with a meaningful look expertly hidden from Jamison's eyes.
After she was gone, I went to stand behind the front counter. For some reason, I needed a barrier between me and Jamison. "How can I help you?" I asked.
He stood ramrod straight, feet shoulder-width apart as if he owned the place. He wasn't wearing a jacket today. He wore a fitted vest and a long-sleeve white shirt that hinted at his biceps. He must work out regularly. I had underestimated his fitness during our first meeting.
"I'm here because of my son."
"Oh?"
I watched the rise and fall of his chest as he inhaled and released a quiet breath. "Manuel and I had an interesting conversation a couple of nights ago."
"I'm sure it was similar to the conversation Blossom and I had on Friday," I remarked.
Our expressions remained impassive, but I sensed a moment of understanding between us.
He cleared his throat. "My son was unhappy with me. He pointed out some... errors in my behavior. I stopped by because I don't want you to judge him based on my actions."
"I don't. Manuel seems like a lovely young man."
"He is. The best." His face softened for a fraction of a second, revealing the love and admiration he held for his child. "He's also crazy about Blossom. Madly in love with her."
"Blossom is crazy about him," I admitted.
He picked up the pen from the small cup on the counter, which customers used to sign credit card receipts. "I guess we could try to get along while the kids are making their wedding plans."
Jamison started doing the most annoying thing ever. He started clicking the pen. Again. And again. And again.
Annoyed, I fisted my hand under the counter. "I've been told I can get along with anyone."
He raised an eyebrow as if he doubted me, and I bit the inside of my cheek instead of making the smart remark on the tip of my tongue.
"Anything else?" I asked, keeping my voice polite. He was still clicking that damn pen.
He cleared his throat again, the clicking going faster. I briefly dropped my eyes to the pen. What was his problem?
"I'm sorry." The words fell from his lips as a grumble.
"Excuse me?" Did I hear him right?
"I. Am. Sorry."
I experienced an immense sense of satisfaction. So much so, I smiled. "Thank you."
His eyes narrowed slightly. "Would you like to say anything to me?"
Oh, how the mighty have fallen. This entire situation was deliciously funny. I considered letting him stew a little longer, perhaps not apologizing at all. But then I remembered my daughter's folded arms and unhappiness in the car. I remembered her plea that I make peace with her fiancé's father.
"I'm sorry too," I muttered. I wasn't used to saying those words. I barely got them out.
As if he sensed my distress, the scowl on Jamison's face shifted into a faint smile. He then returned the pen to the cup on the counter. Thank God. I thought I'd have to snatch it from his hand, which wouldn't help our relationship.
"Well then, I guess we're done here?" he said.
"I guess so."
He paused. "Anything for our kids, right?"
Another moment of understanding.
"Right," I agreed.
He didn't move, a thoughtful frown creasing his forehead. "Do you think they're rushing?"
"Do you?" I countered.
Neither of us wanted to come right out and say it, but we were obviously having the same doubts.
"Blossom seems like a nice young woman. I'm just..."
"I've shared my concerns with Blossom, which is all I can do. She's an adult. Manuel is an adult."
"They're adults, but adults make mistakes too."
Was he thinking about his failed marriage?
"We can offer advice all day, but we can't make them act on the advice. All we can do is provide support if they need it," I said.
He pursed his lips, then gave a single nod of agreement. "I'll let Manuel know we talked."
"And I'll do the same with Blossom."
"All right, then. See you... whenever."
Hopefully not until the rehearsal dinner, I thought.