Toronto Collection Volume 3 (Toronto Series #10-13)

by Heather Wardell

  But I'd never made up more stories than for that furry purse I coveted. In my imagination, that thing had been carried by everyone from pop star Misty Will to the wife of Canada's Prime Minister.

  Decisiveness swept over me. Today, it would be carried by me.

  I was supposed to be good to myself. What could be more good than finally granting myself something I'd wanted forever?

  *****

  "Lovely to see you," the owner said, giving my shoulder a squeeze. "But you know I close in five minutes, right?"

  I glanced at my watch. "I didn't realize it was so late." She was smart to warn me, since I usually spent at least an hour or two in her store, browsing and trying things on repeatedly before buying everything that had at least some potential. At such low prices I didn't like to turn down anything that might do. "But it's okay. Today I know what I want."

  I turned to the pedestal where the purse, soon to be my purse, lived.

  Empty.

  A tiny squeak escaped me as a whole range of emotions flooded me at once. Disappointment, anger at myself for waiting, jealousy of the person who'd bought it, and a hint of something that felt strangely like relief.

  Before I could do more than wonder why on earth I'd be relieved, she said, "I was dusting the pedestals and I haven't had a chance to put that bag back. I assume that's what you're after?"

  The laughter in her tone made it clear she knew full well what I was after. She'd have to, considering how many times I'd stood eyeballing it. "Yes, please. I've wanted it for so long and today's the day."

  She grinned. "Good for you. Nice to have a treat." She reached under the counter then held the purse out for me.

  I took it and let my fingers stroke over its soft suede and fake fur trim as they'd done so many times before. It was a little smaller than I remembered but so gorgeous. "Yes, it will be nice."

  It wasn't so nice giving her my credit card, though, or imagining the bank's computer bursting into flames at the mere idea of me adding even more to my already substantial credit card bill. But I had to have the bag. I loved it. Therefore getting it would be being good to myself.

  My payment went through, so the computer must have survived the shock.

  "Want me to wrap it up for you? Or will you just carry it?"

  I glanced out the window. "It's snowing a bit, so if you don't mind it's probably better to wrap it."

  "No problem."

  She always did a lovely job wrapping, making each purchase no matter how small look gorgeous, but tonight she rushed a little and the ribbon bow she tied at the end was askew. "Here you are," she said, pushing the package toward me. "Have a great night."

  Part of me wanted to ask her to re-wrap it so it looked as nice as usual, but I knew it was silly. It was what was inside that counted, after all.

  What was inside was my new bag. The gorgeous bag I'd wanted for ages.

  I left and she locked the door behind me. It felt a little like she'd kicked me out, although of course she hadn't.

  For a second I wanted to cry, but I gave myself a firm mental shake. Talk about overreacting to a rumpled ribbon! I was just tired. Avoiding Felix, arguing with my sister, trying to figure out the new project... no wonder I was feeling overwhelmed. It was okay, though. I'd go home and play with my new bag and everything would feel better.

  Like I always said on my site, a little retail therapy never failed.

  *****

  Unfortunately, within fifteen minutes of getting my wonderful new-to-me purse home my enthusiasm had faded. I'd never thought to make sure my stuff fit properly inside, and while I could cram in my wallet and phone and keys and makeup they were almost impossible to get out again. Worse, the bag's short strap didn't fit over my shoulder. I hadn't noticed in the store, but as I tried the purse out with various outfits I kept trying to sling it over my shoulder and didn't like that I couldn't.

  Still, it was beautiful, and I felt calmer every time I stroked its soft exterior. But I had to admit the truth. It really wasn't perfect for me after all.

  I'd thought I was just being cheap, or thrifty to put a better spin on it, but now it seemed like I'd had good reasons not to buy the bag for all those months.

  It was mine now, though. Permanently, since the consignment store didn't accept returns. I could sell it back but I'd lose money since the owner would take her cut.

  I smoothed my fingers over the bag again and took a deep breath, letting the air out slowly as the oxygen and the soft touch of the suede soothed me. I did still love it. The gorgeous purse was the kind of thing I wanted to have in my wardrobe. I'd make it work out somehow.

  And then I'd stay away from the big ticket items and go back to shopping the cheaper thrift stores and the consignment store's discount section. I'd never been disappointed by what I'd bought there, and I loved the thrill of digging through the piles of questionable items in search of something to take home with me.

  I lay on my bed and stared up at the ceiling. I'd spent all day trying to be good to myself and all I had to show for it was a belly over-full of cheesecake and an expensive purse I regretted. I had to do something to turn the day around. My readers would want to know how my first day went and I had to get my act together.

  What had they said were their favorite ways to pamper themselves? I could do one of those.

  With a quick check on my laptop, I discovered that nearly all of them craved a long hot bath. I hadn't taken one in forever, but it seemed like a quick and easy way to make the day end on a good note.

  It might have been, if my bathtub hadn't been in such bad shape. The shower worked fine so I'd never noticed that the tub's built-in plug had several chips and broken spots and didn't fit right. I let the tub fill, after pouring in some bubble bath Catherine had given me for Christmas, while I went downstairs to grab a glass of water, and then turned off the faucet on my return, and in the moments it took me to get my clothes off I lost at least an inch of my bath water.

  I fiddled with the plug until the tub stopped draining, then climbed in, sank into the hot water, and leaned my head against the edge of the tub.

  Then I didn't know what to do.

  I'd never been much of a reader, so the 'bring a book into the tub' dreams of my readers weren't my dreams. The water did feel nice, soothing and comforting, but just lying in it was already getting boring. I could call Larissa but it would feel weird to chat naked.

  My Blackberry lay on the closed toilet seat next to me. Why not do some of my never-ending emails? Relaxation and work, a good combination.

  My inbox was far fuller than usual, with reader comments on the new project and vendor requests for me to recommend their product or service as the best way to be good to yourself, and I was soon lost in reading and answering and deleting and occasionally getting angry with rude or clueless comments. Even the not-so-clueless ones aggravated me a bit. Did my readers really think I had the time and energy to deal with all their messages?

  It wasn't until I processed the last email that I realized I was shaking. Not from anger or aggravation, though. The water had drained away, and I was sitting, wet and naked, on the tub's cold bottom in my drafty bathroom.

  Even though I scrubbed myself hard with my towel to reawaken my circulation then put on my thickest plushest pajamas and woolly socks, it took me ages to get warm enough to sleep. I held the blankets tight around me, feeling Paddington's warmth soaking into my back but still shivering, and wondered how I could possibly spin this in tomorrow's post to make my readers think I knew how to be good to myself.

  Chapter Six

  Good morning and happy Tuesday to you, my lovely readers!

  I hope you all had a great day yesterday being good to yourselves. I know I did. I had not one but two pieces of cheesecake, I reorganized my closet and now it looks great, and I bought this purse!

  Isn't it lovely? I wish you could feel it - the fur (fake, of course) is so soft! It's a little smaller than I usually prefer but that will just make sure I
don't carry too much stuff. Preventing backache counts as being good to myself, right?

  I hope you did something wonderful for yourself too! If you did, let us all share in it by posting a comment. If you didn't, tell us why and maybe we can help!

  By lunch time today I'll have a new post up about how to be financially responsible while still being good to yourself, so watch for that!

  *****

  It took me all morning, but somehow I managed to put together a smart and funny post on financial responsibility without admitting I'd jacked up my credit card bill for a purse that didn't even meet my needs.

  I honestly hadn't thought I could do it, and I knew Felix would love what I'd written which would move me closer to claiming Cassandra's job, so I let the momentum from that success drive me into writing my posts for the rest of the week. After a short lunch break, I spent the afternoon at Starbucks so I could work on posts without distraction while also treating myself to a cookie and several delicious lattes, and I was so pleased with myself that night for all I'd achieved that I rewarded myself with a trip to my favorite thrift store after a quick dinner and cheesecake at Jack's diner.

  I browsed the store for nearly two hours despite my bloated cheesecake-stuffed stomach, trying on everything I thought had even a hint of potential, then went home with five scarves in various colors and a pair of high heels that didn't quite fit but seemed like they'd stretch. Exhausted but happy, I barely had time to give Paddington a quick walk before falling into bed.

  While I was taking my shower the next morning Paddington discovered one of my fur-topped boots, which meant I had to clean up all the tiny shreds of leather and furry fabric then wait to make sure he didn't throw up or poop all over the house from his inappropriate choice of chew toy.

  I got myself ready while I waited and lectured my dog, though, so I left the house only a few minutes later than usual. It would have been less, but I'd been forced to search the closet for the left boot of another pair since it was for some reason nowhere near the right one. I wanted to be in the office when Percy arrived for his first day of work, but since he'd been legendary in college and afterwards for never being less than thirty minutes late for anything I figured I still would be.

  When I walked in, Felix said, "Ah, here she is. Come say hi to your friend."

  Percy had beaten me? Sure enough, he stood by the water cooler, surrounded by my, now our, coworkers. He wore his blond hair, which looked freshly cut, in a more professional style than I remembered and I'd never seen him in business clothes before, but otherwise he hadn't changed a bit. How had he managed that, since I hadn't seen him for over five years?

  "Fl--Lydia," he said, holding out his arms for a hug.

  I wrapped my arms loosely around his waist, glad he'd managed to hold back the ridiculous nickname he'd given me after an all-day client management seminar in college in which the instructor kept making me pretend to be the client and saying, "Lydia's going to flip her lid." If Felix found out, I'd be called nothing but Flipper for the rest of my career.

  "Sorry," Percy murmured, then squeezed me close for a second, his arms strong around me and his body warm and solid against mine, before letting me go.

  I smiled at him as he stepped back, feeling warm and fuzzy from his embrace. Nice guys always gave the best hugs, probably because they were so non-demanding. The hugs and the guys. "Welcome to the office. Sorry I'm late. My dog was being himself."

  One of our forum managers said, "What did he rip up this time?"

  "My boot. Just one. Maybe it didn't taste as good as he expected."

  Everyone chuckled and Felix said, "Well, Percy's got his schedule for the day. Lydia, you'll make sure he knows where everything is, right?"

  I gave Percy a tour of the office as instructed, and while we were at the vending machines and out of earshot of the rest I said, "I'm really sorry about your mom. She was a lovely person."

  Turning away, he said, "Better than I deserved."

  That wasn't at all what I'd expected him to say, so it took me a second to understand what I'd heard. When I did, I said, "You were a great son to her, Percy! I saw you guys together, remember, I know."

  With his back still to me, he said, "The one thing she wanted in life was to see me succeed, make something of myself. And now, if I ever manage to be more than just a screw-up, she'll never know."

  I reached out and took hold of both his shoulders. "You're not a screw-up, and she will know. Somehow, she'll know."

  I felt his body jolt as he swallowed hard, then he said quietly, "We should get to work. You've only got me for the morning then I have to work with the others."

  Wishing I could do more for him but feeling sure he wanted to get moving on his new job so he didn't have to think, I pressed my forehead to his back for a moment then released him and said, "And you know I'm bad at web design so we're going to need every second of that time."

  He cleared his throat, and when he turned to face me whatever he'd been feeling before didn't show on his face. "Very true. Let's go, Flipper."

  I rolled my eyes. "Just don't call me that in front of anyone on staff, okay?"

  He gave my shoulder a light rough punch. "You got it, Flipper."

  *****

  "So, what does this guy look like? Are we interested?"

  I choked on my mouthful of rum and diet Coke. When I got it down, I said, "No, we are not. If the 'nice guy box' had a picture on the front, it'd be of Percy."

  Larissa shook her head sadly. "So many nice guys. It's a hell of a big box."

  "Yup. They don't want to push each other around so they need their space."

  We laughed, then she said, "But seriously, what's he like? I haven't met him, have I?"

  "No. I haven't seen him for years. He was supposed to go to that book launch party we went to last year but he bailed at the last second."

  "Looks. Let's hear 'em."

  "I don't know. I never notice what he looks like. He just looks like Percy."

  "Oh, he looks like Percy. Of course. Why didn't you say so?" She gave me a mock glare.

  "Shut up. Okay, fine." I conjured him up in my mind. "He's taller than me, but what guy isn't? He gave me a hug and my head tucks under his chin. He's got blond hair, cut short but not all military, and blue eyes and I think he's been working out because he felt stronger than I remember. Firmer chest, that sort of thing. Oh, and his clothes were nice. Dark gray dress shirt, black pants, and a silvery gray tie."

  Larissa leaned back in her chair, studying me, her eyebrows high.

  "What?"

  She shook her head. "If that's the kind of detail you remember when you don't notice what someone looks like, what would happen if you did pay attention? You could probably tell me if he wears boxer shorts or briefs."

  "Boxers."

  Her eyebrows went up another level.

  "Oh, come on. We all went swimming at a cottage in college and he forgot his suit."

  "And you just happened to be looking at his wet body, boxers plastered to his--"

  "Kabob platter?"

  We both jumped and looked up at the waiter.

  "That's mine," Larissa said, struggling to hold back her giggles.

  Once the waiter had delivered my chicken salad and left us alone, we snickered like immature school girls for a few moments then Larissa started telling me about the makeup job she'd had to do that day to get a model ready for a futuristic ad campaign for a new cell phone.

  I listened, but found myself instead remembering how Percy had looked in those shorts.

  I had indeed glanced over at the wrong time and seen far more detail of his 'kabob' than I usually saw of my friends before he pulled the wet fabric away from himself. He might be more muscular now but he'd been no slouch then either, and if he'd been anybody but Percy I'd have thought he was hot.

  I'd pushed the image of his sleek near-naked body from my mind, but I'd had a fiercely erotic dream about him that night and been horrified with myself for it. W
hile I hadn't met Larissa back then so the 'nice guy-sexy guy' theory hadn't been articulated I had still understood it right to the depths of my soul. Some guys were friends, some were lovers, and nobody crossed that line. No matter how good they looked in boxers.

  "--silver glitter?"

  I blinked. "Sorry?"

  "Were you listening to me at all?"

  "Of course, I just got sidetracked at the end."

  "Thinking about kabobs?"

  We laughed and I said, "Not at all. So tell me about this silver glitter."

  She grimaced. "The client insisted I use some special lipstick that's fifty percent glitter. The model turned out to be a lip licker so I probably gave her twenty coats of that stuff over the shoot. She'll be pooping sparkles for days."

  I shut my eyes. "You have such a way with disturbing imagery."

  "Why, thank you. Anyhow, enough about pooping. What about Percy?"

  I looked at her. "What about him?"

  "Did your coworkers like him? Did he work well?"

  "Yes and yes. He did great work today, and they loved him. Even old Patricia was flirting with him." I gave a mock shudder. "It'll probably take years off his life, working with her. I think he'd be better off if she hated him. Watching the crazy old bat flutter her eyelashes made me feel sick and it wasn't even directed at me. She didn't acknowledge my existence today until she thought I'd had too long with Percy."

  "Did you?"

  I shrugged. "We went out for lunch and worked a bit there, then he spent maybe twenty more minutes with me at the office to wrap stuff up and she thought that should have been her time. She complained about it all afternoon. He ended up staying late to finish up with Sasha so Patricia didn't actually lose anything. Which has never stopped her from bitching before so I don't know why I'm surprised. Although I guess maybe I should feel bad since he did spend more time with me."

  "Hey, don't kick a gift horse in the mouth."

  "Don't... what?" Larissa had a huge collection of badly mangled proverbs. I'd never been sure whether she knew she was saying them wrong and didn't care or genuinely thought she had them right. I'd asked once and she'd flashed me a sweet innocent smile and ignored the question.