Chapter 39
WINNIE
After another day of lazing around, I feel good as new, and I’m itching to get out of the house. I decide to grab a coffee and pastry in town at Aimee’s Bakery, before heading to the rescue to see Rosie and do some mucking.
I do my hair and makeup, and then pull on my pink boots, a pair of jeans, and a couple of warm base layers.
On top, I wear a quilted barn coat that I’ve decided is the perfect combination of cute and functional.
Much as I’d like to wear my fur coat every day, even I can admit that it’s not practical for the barn.
Once I get to town, I make a beeline for the bakery. There’s a line out the door, and I tuck myself in behind Ronda from the Neon Horseshoe.
“Hi!” I give her a wave and a smile.
“Last time I saw you, you were making out with your husband outside the bar’s bathrooms, right?” Ronda says, throwing me a wink.
I laugh. If only she knew that Jonah and I were sharing a practice kiss—one that quickly, and obviously became quite real.
“What’s the current town gossip?” I ask, because I have a feeling she always knows. I’ve been in Star Mountain long enough to feel like it’s my home, and I want to know what’s going on.
“I was just discussing with Molly here that Hank Russell’s hardware store is closing,” Ronda explains.
A blonde woman, who I assume must be Molly, turns around and says, “It’s a real shame, but he just can’t compete with the big box stores any longer and he’s nearly eighty.
He’s happy to retire and rent the place out instead.
” She points across the street, and I see that the hardware shop indeed has a permanently closed sign on it.
“Aw, that’s sad. I hate when small businesses close down.”
“Well, he’s already said that he’ll only rent it to someone local. He wants another small business in there,” Molly supplies.
“I want a damn clothing boutique,” Ronda grumbles. “Or something with a little color in it. Something fun.”
“Why? You always wear the same thing anyways,” Molly points out rudely.
“I do not! I’ll have you know that under this coat, I’m wearing a very nice outfit.”
The two ladies bicker back and forth, and Ronda even unzips her puffer coat to show Molly her fluffy blue sweater. The line moves up, and with the pastry case now in view, I start thinking about what I want.
I order a coffee and something called a canelé, which Aimee tells me is one of the best French pastries, and one of the most difficult to perfect.
As soon as I take my first bite, I can tell that she’s got it right.
The outside is dark and caramelized, and the inside is a chewy vanilla custard.
I have to stop myself from moaning in the cafe, which is jam packed with people.
I take another bite, and as I’m chewing, my phone rings.
It’s Shelley. I swallow hastily, and then answer the phone.
“Hello?”
“I’ve got good news, Winnie,” Shelley says, direct and to the point as always.
“You do?” My heart hammers in my chest and I suck down a breath. Good news could be something small, I remind myself.
“I do. The judge is dismissing your parents’ case. It’s over, Winnie. You did it.”
I take another shuddering breath and say, “Shelley, I’d kiss you if you were here right now. You have no idea what you’ve done for me.”
“I did nothing aside from lay out your case clearly. The law did the rest. But that’s the other thing I wanted to ask you about. Are you interested in suing them?”
“What? Why? Do I need to?” I feel stupid not knowing how any of this works, but I guess that’s why I pay Shelley $300 an hour.
“You don’t need to do anything. But we could certainly make a good case against them, for fiscal losses.”
“No,” I say immediately. “No. Not right now. I just want them out of my life and gone. If anything, I want a restraining order against them.”
Shelley snorts, but takes my quip seriously. “Keep a record of any contact they make with you, and let me know if you notice their P.I. following you.”
I tell her that I will, and then we hang up. I set my phone down, take another bite of my pastry and a sip of coffee. Then it finally starts sinking in: my parents’ lawsuit was dismissed. I’m done with them—I won.
I can finally focus on my future, without the weight of the lawsuit and the specter of my parents hanging over everything I do. I can finally let myself dream about my life here in Star Mountain. With Jonah.
I’ve never given much thought to what I would do with my life outside of pageants and social media.
I never had the chance. When every day is lived for survival, when every aspect of your life is about making someone else happy, I guess you start forgetting about yourself, and what you want. At least I did.
As a child, I remember wanting one thing: for my parents to care about me. To notice me. But it’s past time for some new dreams. I could do anything I wanted.
For some reason, all I can think about is Hank’s hardware store closing, and the shop front that will be vacant on Star Mountain’s Main Street. Ronda mentioned more than once to me that she wishes there was a nice clothing store here, and maybe some of the other locals feel the same.
I could start a shop that sells used and vintage clothing, as well as some hand-picked new styles.
I could sell prom dresses and bridesmaid dresses.
Hell, I could even start sourcing some vintage bridal looks.
I could make it a one stop shop for fashion and color and fun, just like Ronda suggested, right here in Star Mountain.
Just thinking about it makes me smile. With a new dream tucked into my heart, I eat the last bite of my pastry, and it tastes absolutely fucking delicious.
After a few hours of work at the barn and another lesson on Rosie, I rush home, excited to tell Jonah about the lawsuit. I find him in the entryway, examining what looks to be a rifle.
“What is that?” I ask, setting my bag down and staring at him with wide eyes.
“A hunting rifle,” he explains placidly.
“And why is it in our house?”
“Because I need to make sure you’re protected when I’m not here.” He sets the rifle down against the wall by the door and gives me a serious look.
I can’t help but laugh. “So I’m supposed to what, fire that thing at trespassers on our property? Jonah, I’ve never shot a gun and I wasn’t planning on learning.”
“It’s not for trespassers. It’s for your parents, or anyone they hire. To scare them off if they come here looking for you.”
Ah. The rifle makes complete sense now. “Come here,” I say, grabbing his elbow and guiding him into the living room. “Sit.”
Together we sit on the couch and I angle my body so that I’m looking at him. “The case was dismissed. My parents aren’t going to be a problem any longer.”
“Winnie, that’s amazing.” Jonah leans in and kisses me on the cheek, and then on the forehead. “I knew they wouldn’t stand a chance against you.”
“Against Shelley,” I correct. “She’s a shark.”
Jonah chuckles. “That she is. How do you feel?”
“I feel…like I have my entire life ahead of me. I feel like I can breathe again. I feel hopeful. Like I can do anything. And weirdly enough, this lawsuit was the last bit of connection I had with them. Now that it’s done, I can live my life as if they don’t even exist.”
Jonah’s face turns grave for a moment. “But they do still exist. Unfortunately. So I’m not getting rid of the rifle just yet, okay? You don’t have to learn how to shoot it, but I think you should.”
“Jonah, even if they did come here, I’m not going to shoot my own parents.” I laugh at the thought.
“Well, I probably fucking would,” he mutters, rubbing his chin.
“Let’s just be happy about this, okay?” I try to keep the note of pleading out of my voice and fail spectacularly. “I just want to bask in the joy of knowing that for once in my damn life, I beat them at something.”
“You’re right,” he says automatically, though I still see a gleam of ire in his eyes—not for me, though.
God help my parents if they ever meet Jonah.
“Why don’t we celebrate this weekend? We could get an early dinner at the Eighteen-Hundred House.
It just opened, but my parents enjoyed it.
And then there’s another open mic night at the Horseshoe. ”
“That all sounds perfect! I might even order something new to wear online.” Jonah opens his mouth to say something, but I stop him. “I know, I know. I have enough clothing. But I want something special if we’re celebrating.”
“I wasn’t going to say shit about your clothes, honey, I swear. I was going to ask whether or not you wanted to sing with me at the open mic.”
“Oh.” The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. I never thought I’d want to sing on stage ever again—I closed that chapter of my life when I left Birmingham. But Jonah’s proposal doesn’t seem so terrible. “Maybe?” I finally say. “I want to, I think. I’m just scared.”
“I’ll be up there with you. If you get nervous, or you can’t finish a certain part of a song, I’ll be able to help,” Jonah assures me. “And besides, most of the crowd is piss drunk at open mic night, so if you somehow suck, no one will notice.” He cracks a smile.
“Well at least this time I won’t be wearing a bikini up on stage.”
Jonah laughs. It’s quickly becoming my favorite sound in the whole world. “What songs do you want to do?”
“Maybe one of yours, and then I’ll choose some others? We could do some standards.”
Jonah nods and we trade ideas back and forth until we’ve decided on four songs. Any more and we’ll be cutting into the other performers’ time at the mic. But four feels manageable. Four feels like a number I might actually enjoy.
I grab Jonah’s computer off the coffee table. “Do you mind if I use this? I need to do some serious shopping if we’re going out to dinner and also performing together.”
“Of course. And if you see something you want me to wear, go ahead and buy it. I’m open to anything. Even a bikini.”
I know he’s joking but I can’t help but picture him in one and you know what? He’d look pretty good.