Chapter 24
With the snow that had started to fall and white twinkle lights trimming every line of the house’s exterior and windows, plus a yard full of brightly lit trees and other festive ornaments, the Second Chance Shop looked like something out of a Christmas movie, and Vic, stupid, stupid Vic, had thought Audra might want to see it.
Audra rarely left the house and hadn’t driven very much, at least not since Vic arrived.
She ordered groceries and other shopping needs by delivery, and Vic generally did the same.
There was no real reason, however, not to drive the little Honda Civic that Audra kept gassed up and in good repair.
Just last week, Vic had to leave work early because Audra made an appointment to have winter tires put on the car without consulting with Vic first so she could pick a time that didn’t interfere with her job.
“Like you need to work anyway,” Audra sniped. “You know you’re just waiting for me to kick off, so you can have all my money.”
Thankfully, Madeline was awesome and hadn’t seemed put out in the slightest by Vic asking to leave early to take the car to the shop.
So today, Vic had the genius idea to see if Audra wanted to go to The Second Chance Shop.
Really, it was sort of self-serving. She felt a bit pathetic going in on her days off, like Madeline and Gwen would think she didn’t have a life outside of work.
Of course, they’d be right if they thought that, but it would be nice not to broadcast it.
Bringing Audra along would make it seem like a nice mother-daughter outing.
She cajoled Audra into a pair of trousers and a nice sweater, instead of her usual loungewear. Audra wheezed as if the effort to dress was a marathon, sending concern shooting through Vic. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Audra managed, but the words sounded more like a gasping cough than actual language.
It had been a while since her last fruitless attempt and she didn’t hold out a lot of hope, but Audra’s blue-lipped face made Vic try again. If not her family doctor, maybe Audra would see someone else?
“I don’t know if you’ve heard, Mom,” Vic started lightly, striving to merely sound conversational, “but there’s a new medical clinic in town, a walk-in, no appointments necessary. Maybe while we’re out and about—”
Audra let loose a string of curses that would’ve made a trucker blush. “I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times. I’m not going to an effin quack.”
Vic grimaced. Overreact much, Audra? It made her more resolved than ever to keep pursuing the items on her list, especially the one about learning to curb compulsive behaviors because a lot of that apparently centered on emotional regulation, and it was no big mystery why Vic struggled in that area. Nature and nurture.
“He’ll just ask if I’ve quit smoking yet, like he’s the first bloody genius to think of it.
” She sucked in a wheezing breath. “And if I give him the satisfaction of saying I have, he’ll say, ‘Well, you know, Audra’—as if I told him he can use my first name!
—‘a few months doesn’t make up for a lifetime of smoke damage.
’” Another gulping breath. “Like it’s not obvious?
Like you need to go to medical school for that gem? Thanks, but no thanks.”
Vic fought to keep the shock off her face. Say what now? Audra had seen a doctor? When? And had they actually given her a diagnosis of some kind?
But Audra could tell Vic was trying to think of how to ask about it. She held up a bony hand. “Forget it. If you’re going to lecture me all day and all night—”
“What? I’ve hardly said a word,” Vic didn’t understand why Audra’s comment stung. By now, nothing Audra said or did should faze her, yet somehow her razor tongue always did.
“Forget it! I’m not going. Your hippy-dippy bullshit store doesn’t interest me anyway. Why would I want to look at, let alone buy, someone else’s unwanted crap?”
Audra pulled off the one shoe she’d managed to put on, threw it hard at the floor, and stomped off down the hall, leaving Vic staring after her.
Even for Audra, this was next level. And then something occurred to Vic in a way that it hadn’t before. Audra was scared. She hadn’t wanted to go for some reason. This was just her way of getting out of it without having to say as much.
“Okay, well . . . I’m just going to go for a bit then,” Vic called after Audra’s departing back, but got no response.
She hesitated then shrugged. Audra was fed and watered.
She’d like to do more for her (and also wouldn’t—would like to flee, in fact.
It was a terrible way to live, with this constant wishing to be anywhere else, but also knowing she was needed here)—but if Audra wouldn’t let her, her hands were tied, weren’t they?
The shop was buzzing when she got there, but Madeline and Gwen both grinned like they were happy to see her and like she wouldn’t just be in the way.
She even took over the till for a while, insisting she didn’t mind, so that Madeline could dig in the storage room to see if they had any more mercury glass Christmas ornaments for a young man with riotous black curls, while Gwen headed over to the dining room to wrap a 1930s set of Paragon “Evangeline” china for someone else.
When Madeline came back, box in hand for the now-ecstatic young guy, she handed Vic the tag to scan but let go too soon. It fluttered to the counter and under the till.
No problem. They rang the ornaments in manually. When he’d departed in happy, bouncing steps, Madeline came behind the counter and moved the heavy till to retrieve the lost tag. She stopped short when she saw what lay beneath it. Vic froze.
“What are these?” Madeline asked, as if it wasn’t obvious, picking up the two six-by-six paint marker sketches.
Come to think of it, Vic hadn’t even thanked Madeline for the markers, which she left at the shop, of course, but still used them from time to time, liking their brightness.
Most of those drawings had gone home with her to prevent exactly this humiliation. She’d forgotten about these ones.
Madeline was still studying the pictures, her mouth curved in a slightly awed smile. “They’re wonderful, Vic. Wonderful.”
Vic bobbed her head, shyly. “I did think the one of Boots turned out nicely. I actually meant to give it to you—” It suddenly seemed like a faux pas to offer Madeline, with her shop full of gorgeous wares and curios, a piece of scrap art, but Madeline’s face lit up.
“Really? Are you sure? Thank you. I absolutely love it.”
It was such a small way to say thank you for all the things Madeline was bringing to her life without even knowing it that Vic’s throat burned.
She should’ve framed the little offering and wrapped it in paper, tied it with a ribbon—but then again, Madeline really did seem as thrilled as if she had just unwrapped it.
“And who is this handsome bearded man?” Madeline asked, giving the other drawing her attention now, but holding her little Boots picture to her chest as if not wanting to let it go far. “He looks familiar.”
Vic willed herself not to blush. “Um, just a . . . well, he’s a local handyman guy.
He’s done a few small repairs for me between bigger jobs, and come spring, the plan is for him to do a lot more.
Oh, and he’s a customer here. He’s the person who bought the brass dogs.
So, anyway, he’s no-one. Just thought he’d be interesting to draw. ”
Madeline raised an eyebrow and seemed amused by something, but her next words didn’t clue Vic in. “You’re really good. Are you professionally trained?
“God, no!”
“Don’t sound so shocked. It seems possible. Do you do art in your spare time too?”
It was on the tip of Vic’s tongue to deny, deny, deny—but why? What would it hurt to admit that she’d been playing around a bit?
She nodded. “I used to paint quite a bit—even had a show or two.” Her face burned.
“Of course!” Madeline clapped her hands as she put pieces together in her mind. “And that’s why you worked at that artists’ collective gallery—because you sold your work there too.”
“Er, yeah . . . but I stopped doing anything art-wise for a long time. Your markers, though—they’re super fun, thank you. You gave me the itch again. At home, I’ve been dabbling with watercolors.
It was quite a speech for her, especially back-to-back with her babble about Cal, but Madeline didn’t look bored or put out.
She looked . . . intrigued. Before she could ask anything else, however, Gwen came out of the dining room bearing a large box, trailed by a happy customer, who was also carrying a large box, exclaiming how she’d always wanted china but her mom and grandma said it was impractical.
“I don’t care,” the young woman announced. “And how is it impractical? I’m going to use it every day!”
“Won’t that damage it?” Vic asked before she could stop herself. It wasn’t any of her business, and what if she jeopardized the sale?
But both Gwen and Madeline laughed—not meanly. Merrily.
“Life is short,” Gwen said.
“Exactly, so wear the dress! Use the pretty dishes! Burn the candles! Don’t save the soap!
” Madeline finished with a flourish and gestured at the new collector.
“What we’re trying to say in our overly wordy way is congratulations on your beautiful dishes.
It’s wonderful that you’re going to use them, and it would be a sad waste if you didn’t. ”
“And honestly, if they get a little wear, it just adds to their story—and their beauty—in my opinion,” Gwen added.
The young woman nodded enthusiastically, and Vic found herself nodding along just as passionately.
Man, she loved this place—and Gwen and Madeline.
It was so fun how they got all excited and passionate about, well, everything.
And something in Gwen’s comment about a little wear adding “story” and beauty struck her as important.
It wasn’t a bad way to think about the hard, uncomfortable parts of life.
Not a bad way, at all. And just like that, she had an idea for another painting. Just a small one.