by Kathryn Shay
“I can’t have a kid. I’m a cop. I can’t do it.”
“You’d better leave, Fitz. And don’t come back. I’ll call you when I’ve thought this whole thing over.”
Damn her. “Why? What do you have to think over?”
“Your despicable behavior. Now get out of my house.”
* * *
After a fitful night, Millie was out the door at five a.m. She crept inside her grandparents’ house and left a note for them, taken what she needed and went back upstairs to get her suitcase and duffle bag. And her dog. The taxi, one that would transport animals, arrived at six.
She slid the luggage and Scout into the car, then got in behind them. “Hi. I’d like you to take me to the corner of MacDougal and Bleeker Streets, and wait while I go inside. I’ll take the dog with me.”
“It’s your dime, lady.” But he glanced in the mirror, probably saw she was on the edge of a meltdown, and said, “Fine by me, though.”
When they arrived at Fitzgerald’s, she left her belongings in the cab, let Scout out and opened up the back door of the bookstore. Even the dog barked at the eerie and desolate atmosphere of a usual buzzing place. In the office, she called up the computer, biting her lip to keep the emotions at bay. In a word document, she typed, I’m resigning from my position of store manager of Fitzgerald’s, effective 10/21.
She printed the note, put it in an envelope, and didn’t cry when she scribbled Finn’s name on the front. Leaving it on the keyboard, she stood and went to the doorway of the store proper. She took a moment to remember some joyful memories.
All right, Miss Morrison, you’re hired to clean the store.
Not long after: Millie, I’ve never seen such a hard worker. A stocking job is open. Would you like it?
Yes, of course you’re ready to be a clerk.
Years later: I’d like you to manage my store, Mil. I trust you implicitly.
There were bad times, too.
No, we can’t get into rare books. It’s too much of a closed market.
No, the stacks will not be S shaped.
No, I will not leave the soup kitchen flyer in the window.
She wallowed in regret for a few minutes, then turned and left the place as quietly as she’d come in.
“Thanks for waiting,” she told the driver. “Could you take me to Haines Rental Car in Brooklyn.” They leased vehicles with dog privileges. This was all costing her a pretty penny, but she used her savings. Her mental health was at stake.
Five hours later, she entered the city limits of Corning, New York, cheered by the brilliant change of leaves to gold, and red and green of upstate foliage. She got out the map her grandpa had used a few times, along with the key, both of which she took from their storage space. She found the log cabin up on a hill, isolated from everybody else.
The dog leapt out of the car, went a few yards away, while Millie lifted her suitcase and a duffle out of the trunk, and headed for the door. Eventually, Scout followed.
The cottage was small, only a thousand square feet, but the setting was perfect. The inside was neat and tidy though it needed dusting and mopping, which she did mindlessly before she unpacked. All the while, she tried to suppress what happened.
But reality finally intruded.
She went to the bathroom and found her period had come. She didn’t miss the irony. All for nothing, she thought and then corrected herself. No, she learned an important fact. When push came to shove, Finn retreated back into his old self and dropped the big bomb on her: He didn’t think he wanted kids.
After she’d made up the bed, she threw herself on it, and cried her eyes out.
* * *
Finn didn’t sleep the whole night. Instead, he prowled around, panicking at the thought of the sale of his building, trying to think of solutions other than using his father’s money. It dawned on him, then, that he’d already used some of the inheritance for the store. But taking the rest from Ronan felt wrong. Then his mind went to Millie. What would happen now? Would he lose her along with his beloved store?
Finally, he showered and went to Fitzgerald’s. He arrived at work by seven and made some coffee in the break room. When the strong scent filled the place, he took a cup and crossed into the office.
When he sat down, he saw an envelope with Millie’s handwriting on it, placed on the keyboard. A foreboding worthy of a horror novel came over him. He sipped his java and stared at the thing. Finally, he ripped it open.
And read the brutal words.
“Like hell,” he thought, stood, walked out of the store, and locked up again.
He called a cab which took him to Millie’s. He paid the driver and let him go. He wasn’t leaving here till he got some things straightened out.
Climbing the stairs two at a time, he knocked on her door.
No answer.
He knocked some more.
And more.
“Finn, is that you?” He turned. Her grandfather stood at the bottom of the steps.
“Oh, man, did I wake you, Henry? I’m sorry.”
“No, we were up. Millie isn’t there. Come down and inside the house.”
He entered her grandparents’ living room still feeling the same dark thoughts. “Hello, Enid. I’m sorry I caused a stir.”
She sighed. “Never mind that, son. Tell me what this is all about.”
He sucked in a breath when she held up a note. He took it with shaky hands.
Dear Grandma and Grandpa,
I’m leaving this note because I didn’t want to face you. I’m going away for a few days with Scout. Finn and I broke up, and I need time to myself to figure things out from here. I’m sorry if this upsets you. I’ll text when I settle somewhere. I love you. Try not to worry. Remember, since I was little, you told me I was a strong woman. I’ll figure everything out.
Guilt hit him. Then looked up into the accusing eyes of Enid and Henry Morrison.
“I-I’m sorry.” He swallowed hard. “Truthfully, I didn’t realize we broke up.”
They froze.
“Poor Millie,” Enid said.
“You obviously hurt my girl.”
She’d hurt him too, but he asked, “Do you know where she’d go?”
They shook their heads.
“All right, I’ll get a handle on all this and be in touch. But do me one favor. If she calls or texts, let me know she’s all right and ask her to contact me.”
He got in his car and could think of only one place to go. Thirty minutes later, he swerved into the small parking lot of Covington, Covitz and Casella.
They weren’t open for business yet, but the lights were on inside. He knocked, and was relieved when Hayley came to the door. “Finn, what are you…” When she got a good look at him, she asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Millie quit the store and left town.”
“Come on in.”
He followed his sister into a decent-sized office with her name plate on it. “Sit.”
They took chairs at the conference table. “Tell me.”
“I don’t even know where to start.”
“With Millie.”
“She and I had a row last night when I found an EPT box in her bathroom.”
Hayley’s hand went to her stomach. “Is she pregnant?”
“She doesn’t know. The test was negative, but she’s only about a week late.”
“What exactly did you fight about?”
“I was mad she didn’t tell me that she might be pregnant.”
“She probably knew you were under duress from the building sale. By the looks of you, she’s right.”
“Actually, that’s what she said last night. But then, we started talking about kids.”
“A conversation which you haven’t had?”
“On a superficial basis through the years. Questions friends talk about. I said a family was down the road for me, if ever.”
“How about since things changed between you?”
“Our new relationship i
s only a couple of weeks old.”
“But serious.”
“I know. She never brought children up, either. Anyway, I came right out and told her I didn’t know if I wanted kids, and she seemed…horrified.”
“So, having kids is a dealbreaker?”
“She never gave us a fucking chance to discuss it. She ran to God-knows-where.”
His sister sat back and steepled her hands. “What do you want out of all this, Finn?”
“To talk to her about that and a million other things.”
“Then you have to find her.”
“I don’t have time. I’ve been frenetic getting the petition signatures, writing up statements, checking with my lawyer. And Dylan wants investors to buy the building instead.”
“I’m so sorry. This must be awful for you.”
His cell buzzed.
“Maybe that’s her.”
He checked the caller ID. “It’s the building’s current owner. He said he’d call if there were any new developments.” He put the phone on speaker. “Hello, Jonathan.”
“Just a heads up, Finn. Markham Management guy called. They expect to have all the contingencies removed by the end of this week. If you want to bid the time is now.”
“Thank you for letting me know.” He practically choked out the words.
“Damn it,” Hayley said. Then, “Finn, hear me out. I have some of the money dad left me, too, and other investments. It’s in savings. You can have that along with Ronan’s.”
“No. You’re having a kid. I won’t take your money. Besides, Ronan put his, which doubled on risky investments, in an account with his and my name on it. I can access ten million. Ronan contends he’s never going to use the filthy lucre. His phrase.”
“So, my cash would cover the cost.”
“No, Hayley. I’ve got more than that in investments if I chose to go that route.”
“Just remember, I’ll do anything to save Fitzgerald’s, too.”
“Thanks.” He stood. “I guess the issue of Millie will have to wait.”
“Maybe that’s good. She probably needs time.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
She hugged him extra tightly, then let him go.
On the car ride to the store, he blanked his mind. When he arrived at nine, he found Judy and Erin inside. They both had keys because they closed sometimes now. “Hey, sorry I wasn’t here to open.”
“No worries.” Judy smiled. “We handled it.”
Erin asked, “Do you know where Millie is? She was supposed to open.”
“I got a message saying she was going away for a few days. We can function without her.”
“What about the rare books?”
“I know enough to handle that.”
Customers began to filter in, and one of them was Dylan O’Neil.
“Hey, Finn. Can we talk?”
“Sure.”
They went back to the office. “I assume you heard from Parks.”
“Yeah.”
“He let me know, too. Since we have this time crunch, I have a proposal. Not sure you’ll like it though.”
“Go ahead.”
“My family will put up the money to buy the building.”
“What?”
“You know we don’t want the neighborhood to change. We don’t want Bailey’s Pub overrun by fancy condos and spas.”
“You’d…have control over everything, then.”
“No more than Parks did. We wouldn’t change anything. You and the tenants can stay where you are.”
The answer to his problems. He could trust the O’Neils, but the notion he’d never be safe, never own Fitzgerald’s, was like a cold slap in the face.
“Thanks, Dylan. I’m asking you not to make the offer to Parks until I get back to you.”
“All right. But ultimately we won’t let Markham invade our neighborhood.”
“I know. Thanks for the offer.”
When Dylan left, Finn was even more distraught. He told himself he wouldn’t lose the store now, at least, but in a way, he would. Anyway, taking the O’Neil’s money wasn’t right when he had access to cash himself.
He went for a long walk, considered his options. Considered the time he needed to find Millie and talk this all out. Sitting on a bench in Washington Square Park, he watched the kids at a playground. Their laughter, their high-pitched shouts and giggles, made him realize time was running out with Millie and the store.
Everything was converging on him on him at once.
Chapter 8
* * *
Since Millie had cried herself to sleep, cuddled up with Scout, who kept licking her face, she awoke late morning. She’d packed a bag of coffee along with dog food and clean bedding, so at least she had that. But she wouldn’t eat if she didn’t go to the grocery store today.
It was chilly on the porch, but she bundled up in a fleecy blanket and sat outside. She needed to make plans. For her life after Finn. Her heart clenched at the thought, but she didn’t have a choice. Not having kids was out of the question.
She had goals. Yes, there would be a baby in her future. And someday, she’d get her own bookstore. Hmm, it didn’t have to be in New York City to do that. It could be upstate, here. The thought gave her the momentum she needed.
After she dressed and got Scout settled on her bed, she went into town. Parking was available in lots behind stores, and the shops themselves were delightful. The city was known for its glass and dishes. The Steuben Glass Shops were down the street from Corning Ware Gifts. Various small cafes, larger restaurants and what they still called an Apothecary lined the streets.
She stopped at a café on the corner of Market Street and Central Ave, had breakfast then continued her exploration, until she came upon a bookstore called Shelley’s. She went inside. The place was small, but well-laid out, she discovered as she wandered the stacks. Mostly bestsellers, but some older books you might find in any store. She perused them. A gem was buried in the pile.
“Hello,” she heard from behind her. “My name is Mary Lanahan.” She turned to find a woman with dark eyes and hair liberally sprinkled with gray. “I own Shelley’s.”
“Hello. Millie Morrison. Is the shop named after Percy Bysshe?”
“Ah, you know your romantic poets. And yes, my mother was a poet. Published, too. She started Shelley’s. I took over when she died.”
“What was her name? I’ll find her online.”
Mary gave her the information. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
She picked up the battered copy of Jack Kerouac’s On the Road. “What are you selling this for?”
“Make me an offer. I don’t pay much attention to this section.”
“Mary, this book is worth substantial money.” She opened it to the second page. “And wow, it’s signed. You could get a thousand bucks for this.”
“You’re joking.”
“No, I’m a member of the Antiquarian Booksellers Association of America. And I established a healthy sales division of rare books in a store in New York City.”
Her mouth gaped. Then her eyes turned shrewd. “Why didn’t you buy it for your store?”
“I couldn’t do that to a sister bookseller. What’s more, I’ll go through this section if you like, and tell you if you have any more valuable tomes here.”
“Let’s go sit in the back and you can do that afterward. My cashier will let me know if I’m needed.” She started away. “Don’t forget to bring Jack Kerouac with you.”
Over tea, they talked about books, about her clientele, which consisted of townspeople, students at the community college, and senior citizens from the development of two over-sixty-only complexes near town. Millie showed Mary her rare book collection at Fitzgerald’s, then she asked about the towns surrounding Corning. “Are there bookstores there?”
“I know of one that closed in Bath. Why?”
“Because I’m considering moving upstate and opening one, where there’s no competition
to you.” Millie swallowed hard. Verbalizing what she might do with her life made it real.
Well, that was good. She could probably be happy up here. Maybe grandma and grandpa would move too, as there was a cadre of people their age living here.
After she left Shelley’s, Millie drove around, visited Bath and Gang Mills and Horseheads, all interesting names. The city gave way to farmland, then communities. The towns themselves weren’t as quaint or pretty or as populated as Corning. But she could see herself settled here.
She picked up groceries at Wegman’s, a delightful store, went back to the cabin and called up Future Plans where Millie kept notes about someday realizing this dream.
She banished Finn from her mind by immersing herself in the dream.
* * *
Finn walked into his financial advisor’s office for a meeting at noon the next day. “Hello, Finn,” Linc Blackwell said.
They exchanged pleasantries, then Linc sat in a chair in front of his desk and they got down to business. “What brought you here, Finn.”
“I need to move investments so I can take out some money.”
“All right.”
“I need it fast, like tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” His brows skyrocketed. “How much?”
“Five million.”
“May I ask for what?”
“Yeah, I’ll need you in on the deal anyway. I want to buy the building where my store is located.”
“In that area, it’s surely worth more than five million.”
“My family’s investing the rest.” Sort of.
“How much do you have access from them?”
“Ten million.”
Linc kept his cool. He was used to dealing with wealthy clients.
“All right. Let’s analyze your account and see what we can get without too much penalty.”
“Great.” Decision made, Finn was calmer. When he started to think about Millie, he told himself he’d get this taken care of and then find her.
* * *
On her third day in upstate New York, she went online searching for real estate in a small area which she liked, called Elmira Heights. A bit later, her phone buzzed. “Hello.”
