Chapter 5
ELLORA
It was one of Mom’s good days. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor behind the counter, surrounded by garbage bags full of donated clothes, humming an old Sinatra tune while she sorted.
Some of those items, we would put in the shop, and others would go into the bulk packages that we sold dirt cheap. Mom always had been brilliant at knowing what needed to go where. We’d spent entire weeks that she’d visited just like this.
Getting to do it together again was amazing, bitter sweet, and heartbreaking all at the same time. Tears welled in my eyes, but I blinked them back. I grabbed the tagging gun and got to work myself.
“This one’s a keeper,” she said, holding up a paisley scarf and bringing it to her chest like it was a treasure. “Vintage seventies, I’d bet.”
“Then it’s going in the keep pile.” I smiled as I started pricing blouses on the rack.
She nodded proudly, tucking the scarf aside. “You’ve got a good eye, you know. I still think you could charge more for your vintage section.”
“You’ve been saying that since Chicago,” I teased.
“I’ve been right since Chicago.”
I laughed softly. “You’re the one who taught me how to spot a designer tag from across the room.”
The expression in her eyes warmed. “You always had the better instinct for people, though. That’s half of running a shop, knowing who’s coming in and what they’ll love.”
I almost started crying for the umpteenth time since we’d walked in. When she was lucid, it was like the fog lifted completely. Her voice became sure, her smile sharp, and her presence so very her again that it made it hard to believe it wouldn’t last.
Honestly, I lived for these moments now, those brief flashes of time when it felt like I still had my mom.
The bell over the door jingled and I looked up to see Josie from downstairs come in, her apron dusted with flour and her cheeks pink from the ovens. She heaved a pastry box onto the counter and grinned at me.
“I’m about to close up,” she said. “I thought you two could use some of today’s leftovers.”
“You’re an angel.” I inhaled the buttery scent of croissants and Danishes. “An absolute, heaven-sent angel.”
“Only on weekdays,” she joked, wiping her hands on her apron and leaning against the counter. “Hey, have you heard anything about the big developer that’s been sniffing around? Apparently, they’re talking about buying up the whole block.”
My stomach dropped a little. “You’re kidding.”
Josie shook her head. “I don’t know how serious it is, but that’s what everyone’s saying.”
I rolled my eyes, immediately dismissing the rumor as meaningless gossip.
“It will never happen. We’re a community on this block.
We look out for each other. No one is going to sell out to some big property tycoon who thinks that what the Upper East Side needs is more fancy designer stores and franchise coffee shops. ”
Josie nodded. “Amen to that. Like I told Joe from the laundromat, they’d have to drag me out of my bakery kicking and screaming. This place is home.”
“Same here,” I said. “Don’t worry, though. I’m sure someone just misunderstood a half-conversation they overheard while waiting in line for their pizza slice. Something like that.”
Josie smiled. “Probably. I’ll keep my ears open. Enjoy the pastries, ladies. I’m beat.”
“Thanks, Josie,” Mom called as she left. Then she looked up at me with a faintly worried crease in her brow once she was gone. “Are you sure it’s not true?”
I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Even if someone is sniffing around, the community wouldn’t let a developer buy us out. They’ve sniffed before and they’ll sniff again. We can’t stop them from doing that, but we can stop them from succeeding.”
Mom still seemed a little worried, but she went back to sorting and I went back to pricing.
Everything felt peaceful as we worked in unison just like we always had.
The weak winter sunshine streaming in through the closed windows felt warm, the faint scents of sugar and butter hung in the air, and Mom was humming under her breath.
For just a few minutes, it almost felt like the world wasn’t trying to close in on us. A little while later, the bell above the door jingled again and a young couple walked in. As soon as they appeared, I knew weren’t just killing time before lunch.
They were hand in hand but moving with the kind of purpose that suggested they might actually buy something. Almost immediately, the husband ran his hand along the carved edge of an old armoire, admiring the craftsmanship.
I stepped closer. “It’s solid oak. Handmade. You don’t see work like this anymore.”
His wife nodded and I caught her glancing at the price tag before she smiled. “It’s beautiful. Do you do delivery?”
“I can arrange it,” I said, already calculating the logistics in my head.
Not that it mattered. I’d carry the armoire to their house on my back no matter how far away they lived. If I closed this sale, it would cover utilities for the month. Maybe more. That was a big enough deal to offer anything they wanted.
Mom appeared behind me while the couple was still circling the armoire. I was trying to give them some space to decide, but suddenly, she was right there, carrying a steaming cup of coffee.
“I thought you might need this, sweetheart,” she said, beaming as she held it out to me.
I frowned. We’d just had coffee moments before the couple had walked in. “Thanks, Mom. Can you leave it on the counter for me please? I’ll have it as soon as I’m done here.”
“Of course, of course.” She shuffled back toward the register and disappeared again.
I heard the faint sounds of her humming coming from the back. I turned to the couple with my best professional smile pasted on my lips. “The wood has been restored, but the hinges and handles are original. It used to belong to a—”
The door to the kitchen opened again, and Mom walked out with another cup of coffee from the pot she’d obviously just made. “Here you go, honey. You looked parched. Maybe this will help.”
I blinked hard. “Oh. Thanks. Okay. Uh, would you mind just putting it down on the counter? I’ll sit down with you in a few and we can have them together.”
She frowned for a second, obviously confused, but nodded and wandered off again. The wife smiled politely. “Is that your mother?”
“Yeah,” I said softly. “She helps out sometimes. When she’s feeling up to it.”
The woman nodded but turned back to her husband and the armoire. He was now lying on his back, arm extended underneath it. He tapped at the wood like he was trying to figure out if it was still structurally sound or if it would collapse as soon as you put anything in it.
When he straightened up with a satisfied nod, excitement flared through me. This was going to be a big sale. Then my mom came out of the kitchen with another beaming smile. “Sweetheart, I made you some coffee.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “You can just set it down anywhere.”
The husband cleared his throat, exchanging a quick glance with his wife. It was one of those looks that said, let’s just get out of here, and immediately, my heart sank.
“We’ll think about it,” the woman said gently. “It really is lovely.”
They left a moment later, the bell clinking cheerfully as they went.
Once they were gone, I just kept standing there, staring at the armoire and the three cups of coffee cooling on the counter.
Mom was humming to herself again, reorganizing scarves by color, blissfully unaware that she’d just scared off my best chance at a decent sale this week.
My throat tightened, but the truth was that I couldn’t keep doing this. Not the way I was doing it now, anyway. Not if I wanted to keep the shop open and keep her safe.
She needed someone watching her during the day.
Someone who could make sure she didn’t wander off or forget the stove was on.
I loved her too much to pretend otherwise, and if that interaction had proven anything, it was that the hope I’d had of bringing her to the store with me every day wasn’t going to pan out.
By the next afternoon, our apartment smelled like coffee and lemon disinfectant. I’d cleaned obsessively before the home caregiver had come over, which made no sense. It wasn’t like she would be judging me.
Technically, I was the one doing the judging, but I’d still wanted the place to feel warm and welcoming. Normal.
Bree sat across from me at the small kitchen table, her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. She was in her mid-twenties, with dark toffee colored hair and an easy smile that lit her eyes.
Something about her felt steady, like she was the kind of person you could hand your chaos to and know she wouldn’t flinch.
“Why don’t you tell me about your mom?” she asked, her voice as sweet as syrup and blue eyes pretty and kind. “She is going to be the patient, right? Your mother?”
“Yes,” I replied, feeling safe with her in a way I couldn’t explain.
According to the resume the company she worked for had sent over, she had been conducting home care for them for a few years and she only had glowing reviews.
After everything she must’ve seen in that time, I felt like maybe she really could understand what we were going through right now, and I suddenly realized that was why I felt safe.
“She has early onset dementia,” I explained after dragging in a deep breath.
“It’s, uh, it’s been coming on fast. The doctors said it might be aggressive, but I didn’t think they meant this fast. Six months ago she was living by herself and doing well, but now, she sometimes even forgets how to use the microwave. ”
Bree smiled gently. “That must be hard.”
“Yeah, it’s been…” I exhaled and shook my head. “It’s been really overwhelming. I run a store nearby and I thought I might be able to keep her involved, but I can’t watch her every second. I’m worried that she’ll hurt herself or forget about something like the stove being on.”
“That makes sense. It’s always a big worry for anyone who takes care of a patient with memory issues, and for good reason.”
“Really? It’s just that she’s so far gone sometimes that I worry, but then she’ll come back and she’s her again, and it breaks my heart every time.”
Bree nodded and took a slow sip of her coffee. “I’ve worked with a few patients like that. It’s especially hard when they’re still so young, but it sounds like she’s mostly calm?”
“I’m so grateful for it. Yes. She’s mostly chill and she hasn’t been violent or anything. She’s as sweet as ever. She just makes a lot of coffee. Like, a lot of coffee.”
Bree let out a soft laugh and nodded. “I can handle coffee duty. I worked as a barista for a stint before I started caregiving, so I’ve got experience with caffeine emergencies.”
Her confidence, combined with her light humor, was like oxygen. It made me feel like I could breathe again for the very first time since we got my mother’s diagnosis. This was someone who could help. Who understood. It was such a relief that I felt a bit dizzy, but we weren’t done yet.
“I should also probably mention that I take night classes twice a week. I’ll usually be home before ten, but that’s part of why I need help. Someone I can trust to be here with my mom when I can’t.”
Bree smiled. “What are you studying?”
“Business. I figured it was time to learn that side of things properly if I’m going to keep running the shop.”
“That’s smart,” she said. “I’m taking classes too, but mine are online. I’m working toward becoming a nurse practitioner.”
“Really? Wow. I’m impressed. You must be busy.”
“Always,” she said with a laugh. “It’s worth it, though. I like feeling like I’m moving forward, you know? Even if it’s slow going.”
“Yeah.” I took another sip of my coffee, thinking about that offer Holden had made. “I know exactly what you mean.”
She grinned. “Maybe we can do homework together. You can work on your essays and I’ll try to memorize my anatomy flashcards.”
I laughed. “Deal. I can’t promise I’ll be much help with anatomy, but I can read a flashcard just fine.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not much good with finances either.” Bree finished her coffee. “I think this will work. I can start tomorrow if you want.”
“That would be amazing.”
When she left, the apartment felt lighter, like she’d taken some of the tension with her. I sat down at the table, letting myself enjoy the quiet for a moment before reality crept back in. My gaze drifted to my phone on the counter. I picked it up, my thumb hovering over Holden’s name.
He’d given me his phone number along with ten thousand dollars just to think about it. Well, I’d thought about it and I’d made my decision. I wasn’t going to keep him waiting any longer than I already had.