Chapter 9 Clarke #2
As good as I was about being able to identify vintage and antique items, my mom was better.
I didn’t know how she stored all the information in her head.
She was good at the restoration part too.
She had a knack for knowing how things worked—like old kitchen appliances and office supplies, which also made her an excellent ad hoc repairwoman.
People sent her everything—from disgruntled sewing machines to broken VCRs, and she would fix them.
Antiques were her calling. I didn’t know if I’d ever be as good as her.
Joanie couldn’t see or talk to ghosts like Collins and me, but she called herself “sensitive.” She could feel energies around her or that were attached to items. She could also feel any sort of paranormal activity, so even though she couldn’t see or talk to Earnest, she knew when he was around.
They had their own way of communicating.
He always found a way to get her attention when she left the coffeepot on or forgot to lock the front door.
I guess Collins and I were the natural progression of whatever weird genes our mom had.
“How’s the morning been?”
“I’m getting quite a bit done, even if it’s slowly,” I replied, and I heard my mom inhale deeply. As if I hadn’t been trying hard enough. But maybe I hadn’t. Even with everything I’ve done for Toades, we weren’t prepared for that stupid storm. And I should have been more ready for it.
I should’ve double-checked the insurance policy and gotten new windows a few years ago when we had a good summer. I should’ve acknowledged that there was a new leak in the roof to patch every time it rained more seriously.
I should’ve done more. I could’ve.
But I didn’t. And now we’d be lucky to have a semifunctioning shop by the time the busy season rolled around.
My mom’s presence always attracted the ghosts at Toades. There were some ghosts that Collins and I only saw if Joanie was around. They adored her. I could feel them now—moving into my mom’s orbit and raising the frequency in my head.
“Did Baker get back to you about the roof?” my mom asked.
I shook my head. “I called and left a message this morning, though. The other two bids are…higher than we wanted.” We weren’t just repairing the roof—we were replacing it.
The roof was holding up every other project because we didn’t want to make other repairs when the roof could give at any moment and put us back at square one again.
My mom squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. She and Collins both did that when they started to feel overwhelmed. Me? I just clenched my jaw so hard I was worried my teeth would break. “Do you need me to do it?”
I tried to swallow down the buzzing. “No,” I said through clenched teeth.
“We need to get this done, Clarke,” my mom said, sounding exasperated.
“I’m aware,” I said—trying my hardest not to snap at her. “And I am getting it done.”
“It’s been three months,” my mom said.
“And I’ve gotten us three bids,” I shot back. “But you didn’t think to have any sort of emergency savings account or to invest in a semidecent insurance policy. So we can’t afford any of them.”
“There you go—blaming me again.”
“I’m not blaming you!” This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen. This is why I brewed the coffee. I was being nice, and it bit me in the ass. “I’m just saying.”
My mom scoffed. I hated this. This place that both of us loved had somehow become a virus that fed itself by eating away at our relationship. “I’ll be in the basement,” she said—brushing me off.
The Toades basement was off-limits to customers and packed full of old shit.
After my parents’ basement at home flooded, they lost a lot of physical memories, so my mom decided it was time to get the shop’s basement under control, in the hopes that we’d never have to deal with such intense cleanup ever again.
I started chewing on my thumbnail. Biting my nails was an anxious habit, and being at work with my mom made me anxious lately. Toades was so important to her, and right now, it was all fucked-up.
And it felt like neither of us could fix it.
“Mom,” I said before she turned to leave. “Have you, um, been on Sweetwater Peakers at all lately?” I didn’t know why I asked. I guess I just didn’t want my mom to find out about the rumors surrounding Leith and me. At this rate, she would probably be Team Ali.
Joanie shook her head. “You know how I feel about that stupid site…” She trailed off.
“Why? Is there something good on there?” She hated the site, but that’s just because she preferred to get her gossip the old-fashioned way—human to human.
I had no doubt that the rumors would make it to Joanie’s ears, so I figured I might as well subtly prime her beforehand.
“Nope,” I said quickly. “But if you hear something about Leith Wilkes and me, just…don’t believe it.”
My mom’s face went from cross to suspicious to amused. She was looking at me with…interest. It had been a while since she’d looked at me with anything but guilt, a little sadness, and a lot of frustration. “You…and Leith Wilkes?”
“Yeah,” I said. “You know everyone gets bored in the winter.”
Joanie did not look convinced, but she just said, “Whatever you say,” and made her way toward the basement.
I hated that I felt relieved when she walked away, and I hated how sad I was that she didn’t even ask any follow-up questions.
We were so angry with each other.
I pushed my chair back from the desk and put my head in my hands.
Sometimes, this helped with the buzzing but not today—especially because I think at least a third of my headache was mother related.
I’d spent so much time over the past few years trying to prove to her that I was supposed to be here, that I wanted to be here, and that all the big things she thought I was meant for didn’t mean anything compared to what I knew I wanted: Toades.
And increasingly, it felt like my mom only said that she thought I was meant for something better because she didn’t trust me with what she built.
Even though the tensest moments were over, I learned that anger like that leaves scar tissue.
I wanted to fix it so badly. And I needed to prove to her that I could do this—that I could turn things around, and the answer to all of it was fixing Toades. But I couldn’t fix Toades—not by myself, anyway.
Well, shit.