22. Trinity
Trinity
I sat down at Macy’s kitchen table and poured myself a bowl of the expensive, organic granola she ordered from some online grocery co-op. I’d definitely miss some of the perks of being her house guest when the space in the warehouse was finished enough for me to move in.
“Good morning.” Macy whirled through the kitchen in a subtle wave of perfume.
“Morning.”
“Are you finally in a better mood?” Grabbing the carafe by the handle, she turned to face me. “You’ve been pouting around here for days.”
“I got the shelves assembled and set up, but I still don’t know anything about the stupid sign.
” It had been almost a week since the sign company said they’d try to rework it to meet the specs of the historical district.
I had a first floor full of shelving units thanks to Oliver, but still no word on my expensive mistake.
“Well I’ve got something that’s going to make your day.” Macy waggled her eyebrows as she lifted her thermal mug to her lips.
“What did you do now? Wrangle the mayor into giving a speech at my grand opening that’s probably not even going to happen?” I slid another bite of cereal into my mouth and took out my frustration by crunching it into tiny pieces with my molars.
The smug smirk on Macy’s face should have been enough of a warning that it wasn’t going to be good. At least not as good as she thought. We’d played this game many times in the past. I’d learned that Macy always had my best interests at heart and by “my best interests” she meant hers.
“It’s big. I’ve really outdone myself this time.”
A hollowness grew in the pit of my stomach. The granola lost its flavor. So much for the real vanilla, sourced straight from Madagascar. I couldn’t taste a thing.
“Don’t you want to know?”
I swallowed and cleared my throat. In the most monotone voice I could summon, I said, “Oh, please. Yes, I can hardly wait.”
“Fine. You’re not even a teeny tiny bit excited. I can see how much you appreciate me.” Macy twirled around, topped off her mug and stalked toward the front door.
Now I was curious. It wasn’t like Macy to not spill the beans. Usually she’d pour out her secrets, even stuff she’d been sworn to secrecy about, before I could even make the request.
“What did you do?” I pushed back from the table and moved toward the foyer.
“Oh, now you want to know?” Macy stood in front of the entryway mirror, applying a deep shade of red lipstick to her plumped lips.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Just tell me.”
“Now I’ll need you to tell me something first.”
“Such as?”
“Such as how many times you’ve done the hot bartender now.” Macy arched a perfectly plucked brow.
I choked on the breath I’d just taken. “Excuse me?”
“I knew it. You’ve been banging the bartender again, haven’t you?” Her bright red lips curled up at the corners. “How is it? He looks like he’d be good in bed.”
“What in the world makes you think that?” The fact was, he was better than good. But I wasn’t all that ready to admit that to myself yet, much less give up those deets to Macy.
“I can just tell. And that accent… does he talk dirty to you with that sweet accent? Please say yes.”
I tried to stay pissed but the excitement in Macy’s eyes made me laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding. We don’t even see each other that much.”
“He’s been putting your shelves together every night for the past week, and I’m sure that’s not all he’s been doing.”
“Stop, seriously. Before you embarrass yourself.” Rolling my eyes, I turned back to the table.
“I knew it. What other things has he been screwing besides those shelves?”
I turned around and clamped my hands to my hips. “They take an Allen wrench, not a screwdriver.”
“Well, I bet he’s got you taken care of, no matter what kind of tool he needs.” She laughed. “Come on, give me a little detail. Then I’ll tell you my good news.”
“Fine. I like him. But he’s moving back to New Zealand, so before you go getting your hopes up, he won’t be around to screw anything, or anyone.” My heart hiccupped as I thought about Oliver leaving, just skipped half a beat. I pressed a hand to my chest and rubbed at my breastbone.
“That does pose a bit of a problem. Does he want to stay here?” Macy tapped her finger to her chin. “I could check and see if there are any openings at the firm. What does he want to do?”
“No, don’t.” I didn’t want to admit I had no idea what Oliver wanted to do. Yes, we’d been intimate. But we hadn’t done much talking. The more I thought about it, the more I realized I didn’t know all that much about the mysterious Kiwi.
“Okay. But if you change your mind, you know I’ve got connections.”
“Yes, I’ve always known that.” That was an understatement. Between Macy and her parents, I probably sat within two degrees of separation from anyone I’d ever want to meet.
“Which brings me back to my great news.” Macy paused, surely for dramatic effect. She never did anything without theatrics.
“And?”
“I talked to my colleague over at the television station. You know, the morning anchor I told you about?”
I didn’t respond. This was bad.
Macy kept going, oblivious to the impending panic attack about to happen three feet away.
“She’s way into knitting and said she wants to do a story on your shop when it opens.
” She clapped her hands together like a preschooler who’d done something she was super proud of. “Do you know what this means?”
I didn’t speak. I couldn’t. All of a sudden, everything was becoming real. Too real.
“Well?” Macy reached for my hands. “You’re going to be a big deal. You know that, right?”
An icy cold grip wrapped its freezing fingers around my heart. I tried to draw in a breath but struggled.
“What’s wrong, sweetie? This is what you want, isn’t it? The PR, the fanfare?” Macy tilted her head. “Don’t you want to show your brothers and sisters you’ve made it?”
I choked back the blob of panic trying to force its way up my throat. “Yes.”
“Okay then. Embrace it.” She slung an arm around me and pulled me close.
I inhaled her signature scent. Why couldn’t I be happy?
This was what I wanted, wasn’t it? To prove to my family that I was just as capable as they were?
In a different way, of course. What if Macy was right?
This could be my big break. My chance to finally show them I wasn’t just a nomadic freeloader.
I squeezed my arms around her shoulders. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. It’s all coming together for you.” Macy tilted her head down letting her gaze drill into mine. On a normal day she stood a couple of inches taller, but with the four-inch heels she tottered around in, she had almost half a foot on me.
“Okay.” I nodded. “I am excited. It’s just there’s so much to do.”
“Then it’s a good thing you have the best kind of helpers. Let’s get the whiteboard out tonight ,and I can help you figure out a game plan. What do you say? I’ll bring home a bottle of that red you like.”
“Sounds good.” I stepped back as Macy picked up her designer bag and flung it over her shoulder. If I wanted her help, the whiteboard was inevitable. They were a package deal. It might be time to embrace the dry erase markers if it meant having the chance to get Macy’s input on my plan.
“See you tonight.” Macy cracked open the door. “Oh, want to invite your buff bartender and I can see if Mitch wants to come over too?”
“I don’t know. He’s probably got to work.”
“So text me later and let me know.” With a final wave, she pulled the door closed behind her, taking the overbearing cloud of enthusiasm with her.
I wandered back into the living room and slumped onto the sofa. It wasn’t that I wasn’t excited about the shop opening. But I thought I’d take things nice and slow. I should have known better since I’d confided in Macy. The last thing that woman did was slow. Never had, never would.
Now that Macy was involved, the grand opening was happening and it was going to be big, whether I wanted it to or not.
So I needed to come up with something to get the public and potential customers excited.
Something that would create some publicity before I even opened.
Something the reporter might find newsworthy.
Maybe I could go for the world record of longest scarf.
See if I could get hundreds of local knitters to show up and pitch in on a project like that.
I pulled out my phone and looked up the stats on that.
At almost fifteen-thousand feet, the world’s longest scarf was going to hold onto that record.
As I scrolled through my phone, wondering if there might be another smaller, more attainable record I could shoot for, an incoming text pinged.
Oliver: Got plans tonight? Want to finish those shelves?
Me: They’re done. Dinner at Macy’s?
Oliver: Time?
Me: 6:30
Oliver: Ok. Miss you.
Miss you? When did we hit “miss you” status? I almost didn’t reply. But I did miss him. Missed feeling his hands in my hair. Missed the sound of his voice as he whispered in my ear. Missed the way he held me tight against his chest. Before I could change my mind, I fired off a response.
Me: Miss you too.
Those three little words felt like some sort of commitment. I waited for the ceiling to fall down on me. It didn’t. Maybe the world wouldn’t end when I let someone get close to me.
With a little bit of hope sparking inside my chest, I pulled myself up off the couch and cleaned up my breakfast dishes.
Now that the shelves were done, it was time to place orders for product.
I’d spent hours filling out the business paperwork required to get my sales tax number and establish accounts at the biggest suppliers.
Picking out which lines to carry and what fibers to feature would get me excited about the grand opening.
I could almost picture the shelves Oliver and I built, overflowing with skeins of yarn in every color. As I fired up my laptop, I ran my finger over the texts he’d sent. Evidently, we were moving forward too.
Instead of making me want to flee to the most remote corners of the Earth, I felt a strange sense of calm. With luck, it might grow and spread. And tonight I promised myself that before Oliver started sweet talking me into taking my clothes off, I’d get him to talk about himself a little bit more.