Chapter 14
Idon’t take a swim after my run with Cactus the next morning.
“Yeah, not today . . .” I say when she stops and gives me an expectant look as we reach the spot where I usually swim. There could be a murderous and hungry great white shark in there, looking for a snack, I think, but don’t say out loud. I’m sure she’ll roll her eyes at me for that.
When I’ve finished breakfast, showered, and braided my hair, I walk into the living room where I find Cactus in her usual place on the couch.
“We’re heading out again. Come on, Marie-Antoinette,” I tell her, and she replies with a look I’d interpret as Are you freaking kidding me?
! We just got in! “Come on now,” I say again as I head for the door.
There’s something I haven’t been able to stop thinking about.
Something my work-brain has twisted and turned over and over again.
Something I have to get out of my system.
There are a few marshmallow-looking clouds in the light-blue sky as we walk into town.
I wish we could walk faster because I’m eager to get there, but my legs are sore after the run.
The perk with this pace, though, is that I have time to notice the daisies growing along the road and the sound from the bumblebees hovering around them.
Viv looks both surprised and happy when she sees me.
“June, to what do I owe the honor?”
I cut to the chase, because that’s what I usually do when it comes to my job.
Well, not that this is my job but yeah, still—I’m a cut-chaser.
“I’ve been thinking,” I say. “About your store. I have some ideas I’d like to share with you.
If you don’t mind?” I hurry to add. My god, do I sound like a typical middle-aged man with no self-awareness?
But Viv lights up, putting her coffee mug down on the counter. “Please.”
I take a deep breath. My fingers are itching with eagerness.
And excitement, actually. “Okay. So. The pareos you’re selling are the perfect thing to wear to the beach.
They’re gorgeous and easy to put on. I think they could be a real best-seller.
But. People have to know you have them, and they have to understand exactly how great they are.
I think you should put them outside on a clothing rack, next to a mannequin styled in one.
You need to make people aware of them and how much they need one. ”
Viv nods thoughtfully. “I like it. Go on.”
“The seasonal clothes you do have must get a more prominent spot in here. People need to notice them as soon as they walk in. It’s summer, and customers need to feel that.
They need to see the pieces they didn’t know they needed and visualize themselves in them.
And it’s up to you to show them. Can I ask you something?
Do you often wear the clothes you’re selling? ”
“Not every day.”
“Then you should start. You’re the best billboard there is.”
Viv doesn’t look convinced. “You really think that would make such a big difference?”
“I know it will.”
She dips her chin in a slow nod. “Okay, I’ll try it.”
“Also, have you considered keeping the store open on Sundays? Studies have shown that people are most willing to shop by the end of the week.”
“Yes, but I can’t keep the store open on Sundays. I’m helping out at my mom’s nursing home every Sunday.”
“I’ll do it. I can run the store on Sundays. At least over the summer before I go back to New York.” I hear the words leave my lips before I have time to think. What the hell am I saying? But as soon as I say it, I feel how much I want to. I really do.
Viv tilts her head in question. “You would do that?”
I nod. “Yes.”
Viv smiles hastily before sighing with sagging shoulders. “That would’ve been amazing, but I can’t afford it.”
“I’ll do it for free. You’d actually do me a favor by letting me work here a couple of hours once a week.
” I hear my own eagerness as I say it because, I realize, I really mean it.
She would do me a huge favor by letting me work here.
Because Lydia still hasn’t called me, I miss working, and I need to clear my mind.
Or rather, think about something else than whether Lydia will call, how things are going at work back in New York, and if someone went to Paris instead of me.
Or about how much I’ve screwed everything up. How I’ve failed, both Lydia and me.
“I can’t let you do that.”
“Please? I’d love to do it.”
She studies me quietly for several seconds. Then, “Would you really like to do it?”
I nod without hesitating.
She narrows her eyes. “Are you sure?”
My answer comes fast. “Yes.”
She seems to be contemplating it before she finally nods. “Okay. If you’re one hundred percent sure, I’d love for you to work here on Sundays.”
I smile. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“We have a deal then?”
“I think we do.”
I have no idea what I’ve promised to do, but I know I’m happy as I walk home with light steps.
I loved my job at the small clothing store as a teenager, and I’ve missed it at times.
The early mornings in the empty store, listening to music while preparing it for a new day, chatting with customers—I’m already looking forward to next Sunday.
Someone is sitting on the porch swing when I get home.
“I was just going to call you,” Iris says, holding up her phone.
“I was just at your aunt’s.”
“Oh, really? How was she?”
“Good, I think. I’m going to help her out in the store on Sundays.”
“What? Really? Why?”
“Yeah. Because I think she could increase her profits if she kept it open every day of the week. Plus, I want to. I used to work in a store like hers back in my hometown when I was younger, and I’ve missed it.”
Iris smiles at me. “Wow, you’re an angel.”
I laugh. “I’m definitely not.”
“You are. Thank you. For helping her.”
“It’s nothing. She’s helping me, too.”
Iris grins, presenting two takeout cups. “Here, I brought us coffee from Gertrude’s.”
“You’re an angel. Thank you. I have Oreos.”
A few minutes later, we hum in unison as we dip cookies in coffee and let the swing rock us back and forth.
“I love what you’ve done to the patio. Imagine the evenings we can have there this fall.”
A weird feeling hits me—sadness that I won’t be here by then.
“You don’t have any clients today?” I need to change the subject.
“Nope. Not a single one. Kind of nice, actually. I love my clients, I really do, but they can be a little too much sometimes. The other day I had a lesson with a woman who was convinced she was being followed by a group of clownfish. It didn’t matter how many times I said that there are no clownfish here.
We had to end the lesson because she said they tried to knock over her board. ”
I chuckle. “God . . .”
“I know.”
We dip another cookie.
“So, you and Benjamin Reyes, huh?”
I almost choke on the cookie, coughing so hard Iris has to jump up and start pounding my back. When we’re sure I’m still alive, she sits back down. “What?” I croak, still catching my breath.
“Yeah. I’ve never seen Benjamin be cute with a girl before.”
“He’s not being cute.” He’s an asshole.
“He most definitely looked cute on movie night. I’ve never, and I mean never, seen him with anyone like he was with you.”
She’s never seen him being a dickhead before? I doubt that. “You’ve never seen him with a girl before?” I ask in disbelief.
Iris shakes her head. “No. Well, sure, I’ve seen him go home with girls after a night at Lost & Found, but I’ve never seen him be affectionate before.
I’ve never seen him with a girlfriend. I don’t think he’s ever had one—much to the disappointment of every girl and woman in Pearlband.
I think everyone’s had a crush on him. Except me.
But everyone else. He’s obviously very good-looking. ”
I almost choke again. Clearly, Iris and I define affectionate differently. Benjamin Reyes is nothing but a jerk to me.
“Is there something going on between you two?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Okay, if you say so,” she says, shrugging her shoulders. Does she look unconvinced? What the hell?
“I very much say so. I can even promise you. Besides, I’ve quit men. They’re all idiots.”
“Hear, hear.” She scratches her nose. “Womanizer?”
I let out a breath, finally relaxing again. “Magic Wand.”
She gives me a knowing grin before we tip our cups together.