16. Chapter Sixteen
Chapter 16
Mason asked Linda to join him on a catamaran cruise in the gulf on Friday, but she declined. She needed some distance to evaluate the almost kiss and her reaction to it. Besides, she planned to drive to Tampa and check out a few stationery stores, hoping to find inspiration for new designs for her Etsy storefront.
Walking into the first shop, “Plan to Succeed!”, Linda thought the exclamation mark was a little over the top. Nothing added to the anxiety of someone wanting to succeed like the stress caused by that piece of punctuation. Her own brain was shouting at her to stay productive; she didn’t need the store name to do the same.
Linda was the only customer in the store and felt she was on a hidden camera. There was a small black yorkie puppy following her everywhere. Whenever she paused to look at merchandise, it would put its front paws on her leg and jump up and down until she petted it.
The clerk behind the counter kept calling for the pup, “Come here, Pudding!”, to no avail. It continued to follow Linda closely.
Feeling guilty browsing, she picked up a cute picture frame with “Newlyweds” written in a fancy font along the bottom. She’d give it to Laurel for her shower. She had access to their engagement photos and would get one to fill the frame. Laurel would likely replace it with a wedding photo, which was fine by Linda.
At the register, she chatted with the young woman, who finally enticed Pudding back behind the counter by offering a rawhide bone.
She hopped in the car and drove fifteen minutes to the next shop on her list. On the way, her mind kept replaying the conversation with Mason. It warmed her heart that he’d opened up to her about the loss of his young patient. She hated to see him so sad and briefly wondered if she should suggest he change careers. But his compassion made him who he was. It was probably his greatest quality. And she couldn’t think of another role that would allow him to share his compassion with others more.
Replaying the moment when she’d thought he might kiss her over in her mind, she was confused. She was certain she wasn’t putting out “I might be interested” vibes. Was it just that he was sad and seeking comfort? Probably.
That was good. Right? He shouldn’t be interested in her. They weren’t in the right place to rekindle anything. She hoped they would come out of this as friends again, that’s all. But a small part of her felt disappointed. She was shocked to realize she’d wanted him to kiss her. When he leaned towards her, her eyes fluttered, and she wanted to turn over her senses to feel his lips on hers.
“Ugh! Stop it!” she shouted to herself as she pulled into the parking lot of “Polly’s Papers.”
Inside the store, she was greeted by a woman who was drying her hands on a towel as she walked out of a backroom with a beaded curtain doorway.
“Howdy!” she called. “Welcome. I’m Polly!” She walked towards Linda and stuck out her hand.
Linda shook the offered hand. “Hi, Polly. I’m Linda. What a cute store you have!”
Her eyes glanced around the room, which some might say was an overload of colors and graphics, but Linda loved the colorful, chaotic space. Products stuffed every shelf. There were brightly colored baskets holding oodles of sticker sheets, bookcases stuffed with books and journals, rows and rows of fancy ink pens (even a few feather quills!), and a display of various inks.
It was everything Linda loved about paper and designs.
“Thank you, dear,” Polly responded. “I make some items myself.”
“Really? Like what?”
Polly walked towards a wall of shelves filled with stacks of T-shirts. Linda noticed that the woman walked with a slight limp. “I design these and do all the silk-screening myself. That’s what I was doing when you came in. I have a studio in the back.”
Linda’s eyes roved over the bright, comical shirts. She saw a couple that she knew she would purchase before leaving. The “Always the Bridesmaid, Never the Bride” with the face of an overly sad young woman caught her eye first. Laurel’s wedding would be the fourth time she’d be a bridesmaid, and her first time as maid of honor, so it felt fitting.
“They’re awesome! Clever and bright. Catchy.”
“Thank you. What brings you in today? How can I help?” Polly asked, tucking the towel in the back pocket of her cargo pants.
“I’m browsing. Looking for inspiration.” Linda worried the words might be misconstrued as soon as she said them. She wasn’t looking to steal someone’s ideas.
“Oh? Are you an artist?”
“No. Not a real artist. I make designs and templates using some tools. I can’t draw to save my life. A teacher once laughed at me when I drew a horse; she said it looked like a camel. So embarrassing. Luckily it was May, so we were out of school shortly after. Took me all summer to draw again.”
“Ouch. Shame on that teacher. You should never tease kids about stuff like that. What do you design?”
“Printables. Templates that people can download. I sell them on Etsy. You know, things like invitations, party games, to-do lists. That sort of thing.” Linda picked up a bright yellow pad of paper that had a drawing of a frog on a pond leaf that read, “I’m going to hop to it and get these things done today! Ribbit!”
She smiled. “Things like this. But the person who buys it prints it out themselves or does it digitally.”
“I see.” Polly nodded. She pulled the towel out of her pocket and dusted a shelf. “That’s interesting. I’ve seen those things online. But I like the touch and smell of paper too much to keep a digital list. I love writing it out longhand and then putting a big check mark when I get something done. Nothing more satisfying than that.”
“I’m the same. I love journaling and writing longhand. Just don’t ask me to draw. Speaking of, I could use a new journal.” She swung her head, looking for where they would be.
“Over here.” Polly led the way to a revolving display of beautiful glossy and embroidered hardback journals. “There are these, and then I have some spiral ones on that back bookcase. Regular paper ones on that shelf over there.”
“Perfect.” Linda spun the display and found a cute journal with a pink owl wearing purple glasses on it. “I love this one.” She tucked it under her arm and went back to the T-shirt display, grabbing two.
Polly ambled back to the counter and sat on a rattan stool. “Ah. Time for a break.” She reached below the counter and pulled out a large tumbler covered in stickers.
Linda watched Polly out of the corner of her eye. The woman had white hair cut in a bob, and there were shiny strands of purple in it. Ah, fairy hair. Cool. For living in Florida, she thought Polly’s skin was extra creamy, like she avoided the sun, or had a great handle on sunscreen.
Polly wore a loose chambray shirt, light blue, with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. There was no jewelry on her hands or wrists, but she had dangling silver earrings that tinkled when she moved her head, and a long silver chain with a glass circle pendant hung around her neck. Linda wondered if the pendant was handmade. She glanced around, thinking there might be some jewelry displayed, but she didn’t see any.
Taking her purchases to the counter, she asked Polly how long she’d been in business.
“Twenty years. Started in a smaller location but was able to expand and move here twelve years ago.”
“Do you love owning your own store?” Linda asked.
“I do. Love being my own boss. Deciding what to sell. When to be open. Meeting customers. My grandson helped me set up an online store a year ago.” She pulled a business card out of a plastic holder that read “I love Tampa” on the front. “Here. You can shop from me even when you’re not close. Do you live in Florida?”
“No. I’m on vacation. Staying at my uncle’s condo in Seaside Bay. I’m from and live in central Illinois. Bloomington.”
As Linda watched Polly ring up her purchases and bag them, she pulled her wallet out of her purse. Rifling through her cash, she hoped she wouldn't need to use a credit card. She preferred to use cash for small businesses; she knew how the credit card fees ate into one’s profits.
“Having a good vacation?”
Linda thought about Mason. It was a resounding yes, so she said so. Would it have been as good if Mason hadn’t shown up? Definitely not.
“That’s good. Here you go.” Polly handed her a paper shopping bag with a stamped image of the store’s logo on the front. Linda wondered if Polly printed them herself. “If you ever get to a point in your design career where you make physical products, reach out and let me know. Maybe I could carry your stuff in my store.”
Linda paused. She’d never considered that before. Pulling out her phone, she quickly jotted a few notes. She would investigate print options, and perhaps she could find a few retailers at home to carry her original designs, too. “Thank you. I hadn’t thought about doing that.”
Polly nodded, her earrings’ dulcet tones ringing softly. “I like to encourage young women entrepreneurs. Part of my giving back. I wish there had been more around when I started out. Got to pay it forward; remember that.”
“I agree. Oh, here.” Linda searched in her purse for her business card. “Here’s the name of my Etsy storefront. If you get a chance, look and see if there are any items that you think would sell well in your store. Maybe those will be the first that I’ll consider having made and selling wholesale.”
“I’ll check it out.”
Linda walked out of the store filled with something that she hadn’t come for. Inspiration for a whole new line of business. She had a few new ideas for designs — frogs were in her future — which is what she’d come in for. But Polly’s idea of selling wholesale was new to Linda.
“Huh,” Linda said to herself as she popped the trunk to put in her bag. She glanced across the parking lot and saw a food truck selling tacos. Her stomach growled; she hadn’t eaten breakfast before she’d left the condo. Time for lunch.
Glancing back at Polly’s store, she thought, What if I opened my own retail store? I’d get to look at, buy, and recommend the things I love the most. She shook her head. Don't get too far ahead of yourself. That would cost a fortune to start. You don’t have that kind of money. Besides, it would be a colossal risk. Best just to think about expanding to physical products. A safer bet.
The nasally honking sound of a white ibis startled Mason out of his thoughts. He glanced up to see the white bird with the red legs and red beak scurry across the sand ten feet ahead of him.
The noise and movement shook the cobwebs from his mind.
“Move along,” he called to the bird, thankful no one was around to hear him.
He was cooling down from his jog, walking back towards the condo building. Covered in sweat, he was looking forward to a cool condo and an even cooler shower.
He’d felt disappointed when Linda said she had things to do today and would not be available. It’s fine. He could use the time to research Seattle, Washington and Portland, Maine, to help him decide where to move next.
He’d done that research first thing this morning, even jotting down a few notes for a pro/con list. He tried to tell himself he hadn’t already decided on Seattle while researching. But once Linda had said she’d like to visit there someday, a tiny part of him knew that’s where he was going next.
If there was the slightest chance that he could get her to visit him, he would. He wanted to spend as much time with her as possible. He was fairly confident that they had worked their way back to being friends again. With additional time together, he hoped they could be even more.
Spending time with her this week had reminded him of everything that made her such a wonderful person. Her diligence, creativity, laughter, and kindness to others were at the top of the list of reasons he had fallen in love with her before. Time hadn’t changed those aspects of her personality, only strengthened them.
If he was in Seattle for twelve weeks and she visited him once, and he went back to Illinois once, they could stay connected and continue to strengthen their relationship.
A young girl with a plastic pail and shovel ran past him, her tight red curls bouncing on her shoulders. Her frazzled mother ran after her, muttering a quick “sorry” to Mason as they dashed in front of him.
He laughed and told her to enjoy the moment.
Continuing on his way, he rethought his day. He should have swapped tasks around and taken his run before internet surfing. He would have saved himself from sweating a pound of water out of his body if he’d run when it had been cooler outside.
“Now what am I going to do?” he muttered to himself, glancing at his watch. It was only noon. He had a full afternoon and evening to fill.
He shouldn’t complain. He hadn’t expected to have someone to hang out with this week, anyway. Or the chance to volunteer for Meri. Why was he so anxious now with a day unscheduled, when he thought he’d have two weeks of them?
Finally getting back to the condo, he popped his head into Meri’s office. He couldn’t find her and realized she was probably at the Blueberry Festival.
Back in the condo, he showered and put on fresh clothes. Sitting on the couch, he pulled out his phone.
He wanted to text Linda, but didn’t want to bother her. Thinking of Linda made him think back to the fireworks.
He’d been as shocked as she had when he told her about the kid who passed away from cancer.
Normally, he could keep work challenges like that—losing a patient, a patient taking a turn for the worse, being unable to save a limb, or whatever other setback occurred—bottled up. Safely stored in the lockbox called ‘bad work stuff.’ He’d shove all pain or heartache from work in there, lock it up, and push it way back under the imaginary bed. Unlike his dad and sister, he rarely talked about the things that went wrong at work. He only wanted to talk about successes: the healing, the cures, and the recoveries.
But last night with Linda, it felt different. Safe. She wouldn’t judge him for grieving a patient; he’d known that instinctively. And she hadn’t. When she validated his feelings and comforted him, a giant weight had released from his shoulders. It was as though Linda had taken that lockbox out from under the bed and thrown it into an active volcano—it was good and gone, no worries that it would come back.
At that moment, he had ached to kiss her. He’d wanted to lean over and be close enough to relax in her orbit, caress her face, and inhale the scent of her.
He pushed the urge down. He was sure she would have rejected him, and as vulnerable as he was feeling at that moment, it would have crushed him.
Trying to divert his mind from Linda, he scrolled the contacts in his phone. He needed to talk to someone. Ask if he was crazy for wanting to pursue the girl who’d always held that special place in his heart. That place reserved for first and last loves. So rare that the same person could fill both spaces, but Mason was sure she could, and he hoped she would.
More time. She needs more time. Be patient.
He saw the names of several buddies he’d met at various hospitals around the country. It was cool to see the geographical variety of people. But they were acquaintances, not close friends.
The last good friend he’d had, Kellen, was from high-school. They’d tried keeping in touch during college, but Kellen attended school in Iowa and moved to California once he graduated.
They’d met up once a few years before, when Mason was living in Anaheim. They’d had dinner, a few beers, caught up on work and families, and parted ways.
That was the problem with changing jobs and cities so frequently. He didn’t build strong relationships.
By design. It was easier to move on and not get attached. Leave before they could leave you, through falling out, breaking up, or even worse, by dying, like his mom.
Losing Bradley had knocked him for a loop. It was always rough losing a patient, but a kid was the worst.
Sometimes he needed someone to lean on, to vent to. Times when a workout or a jog didn’t expel the pain and hurt caused by the job. Times when he needed a friend to listen and encourage him.
That’s what he needed. Stronger relationships. That needed to start with his dad, sister, and stepmom. For too long, he’d treated them too casually, taking family for granted. Assuming they’d be there for him; family had to be.
But did they?
If he wasn’t putting in the time, phone time and face time, why should they? Were they feeling how much he loved and appreciated them?
Sighing, he reached for a pad of paper on the coffee table. He wrote a simple list. Dad, Erin, Linda, old friends, new friends. He had a lot of work to do. But now that he knew what to focus on, it would be easy to take action.
Maybe Linda will be up for dinner , he thought. He texted her that question, but she quickly replied with “Sorry, can’t. Busy. See you tomorrow. Ten am to go to fest?”
He replied affirmatively and tossed his phone across the couch. Her rejection intensified his loneliness. He couldn’t blame her, but it was further proof how much work he had to do.
Grabbing the condo keys, he left. He was going to the grocery store to buy several large bags of Skittles and a basket to hang on the door to her condo. He imagined her smile when she found it, and smiled himself as he punched the button for the elevator.
He would also go to a hardware store to find a smart thermostat. He needed something to keep his mind occupied for the rest of the day. Once he installed it, he would call his dad to let him know. Then he’d call Erin to see how she was doing.