by Debby Mayne
“This is a nice office, Puddin’.”
She doesn’t speak as she picks up a folding chair that rests against the wall, opens it, and gestures for me to sit. Then she goes behind her desk and plops into the chair. “So what’s up, Shay?”
“I . . . I just wondered if you’ve told Digger about your job yet?”
Without hesitation, she shakes her head. “There’s really no reason to. Not at this point.” An odd expression that appears to be a mix of fear and trepidation washes over her face. “You’re not planning on telling him, are you?”
“No, I don’t plan to tell him, but I really think you should. My brother is a very sweet, understanding man who might give you some flak at first, but . . .” I let my voice wander off to let my words sink in. “Once he knows how much this job means to you, I’m sure he’ll come around.”
“Don’t you understand, Shay? As long as he doesn’t know about this job, it’s all mine.” She clears her throat. “It’s the only thing I have that belongs to me and only me.”
The desperation in her voice touches my heart. Even though Puddin’ and I have been friends for decades, there’s something here that I don’t understand and maybe never will.
As much as I would like to understand what she’s saying, I can’t. But then again, I’ve never had to share every minute of my life with a husband and three children.
“Any money I make goes into a small account for vacations, extra treats, and a rainy-day fund.” She shrugs. “And for those times when we come up short with the family budget, I have enough to cover it without stressing Digger about finances. I see too many couples fighting over money, and I don’t want to do that.”
“But the fighting isn’t really about the money.” I speak slowly, trying to find the right words that won’t come across as an insult to my sister-in-law. “I think it’s more about trust, which is—” As soon as I start this sentence, I realize it might hurt Puddin’s feelings. “It’s just that if he knows, the two of you can talk about it and plan as a team.”
“No.” Puddin’s single word comes out so strongly I’m shocked. I’ve never seen her like this.
“No?”
“You heard me. Everything else in my life is a team effort.” She starts to giggle but quickly covers her mouth with her hand until she recovers. “Shay, you’ve known me long enough to know I never played sports or got involved with any kind of team before. Even though I’ve always had friends, I’m still more of a loner. You’re really the only person I feel that close to, outside the family that lives here.”
“Yes, I did know that.”
She tips her head forward and gives me a long look that lets me know she means business, and she’s not budging. “Which is why I need this.”
“Okay, but why can’t you tell Digger what you just told me? You can say—”
“Don’t tell me what to say, Shay.”
“I didn’t mean to tell you what to say. It’s just that—”
“I like things just the way they are, and I intend to keep them this way.”
I let out a sigh as I stand. “Okay. I just thought I’d try to help.”
“I appreciate your concern, but this isn’t about you one single, solitary iota. To be honest, it really isn’t any of your business either, or I would have said something before now.” She gives me an apologetic look. “If you didn’t just happen to come in here that day when I was leaving, you’d never know about my working here.”
I tilt my head as our gazes lock. “You probably wish I still didn’t know.”
She glances away, sighs, turns back to me with an apologetic look, nods, and rises to her feet. “Probably.”
“Okay, then, I best be leavin’.” I stand up and slowly walk toward the door. The air is thick with tension, which I know I’m partly responsible for. But I still think Puddin’ needs to come clean with Digger. I can’t imagine him being anything but thrilled about her feeling fulfilled with this job. Plus, I’m willing to help if she needs support. She knows that.
Amanda’s eyes are still open wide as we walk past her, but she doesn’t say a word. I notice a look passed between her and Puddin’, as though there is some silent communication that I’ll never understand. Amanda quickly glances down at whatever she’s doing at the counter.
“Maybe we can have lunch soon,” Puddin’ says as we approach the door of the shop. “Like on a Wednesday when I leave here early, but before I have to pick up Jeremy.”
“Sounds good.” I smile at her before turning to leave.
“Oh, and when we get together for lunch, we’ll pretend that you don’t know anything about my working here. It’ll be much easier if it never comes up again.”
“Okay.” I’m not sure I’ll be able to do that, but Puddin’ couldn’t have made things any more clear than she already has.
Well, that was a bust, I think as I slide behind the wheel. All of my good intentions have been shot down, and now that I know how much this means to her, I vow to keep her secret. It’s hard, considering the fact that my brother will be furious not only with her but with me if he ever finds out I know. But sometimes women have to stick together, even if they’re not blood related.
Guilt continues to hover, so when I’m halfway to the office, I pull over into a parking lot, close my eyes, and ask the Lord to forgive me for keeping such a big secret from my brother. I also ask Him to put it on Puddin’s heart to talk to Digger and try to get him to understand how important the job is to her. When I open my eyes, my stomach starts to rumble, reminding me that I still need to eat lunch.
I swing by a drive-thru and order a salad to take back to the office. When I walk in, the receptionist glances at it and grins. “Must be hard to eat when you have a working lunch.”
“It is.” Without stopping, I head straight back to my office that is at least ten times as big as Puddin’s. What amazes me is that she’s at least as contented as I am. Maybe even more so.
I am so tired of arguing with Sara about what color ribbons we should use. We always sell a ton of pink and light blue, but she wants to go with orange and green, just because she likes those colors. The problem with that is I don’t think mamas will put orange and green bows in their daughters’ hair, especially the size of the ones we sell.
“All we ever do is pink and blue,” Sara argues. “I’m getting sick and tired of pink and blue.”
“We do some black and white, too.” I sigh. Maybe I should give in, as always, and agree to a few in the colors she likes. “Oh, all right. But why don’t we go with the mint green and the peachy orange?”
“Mint green is fine, but I like bright orange.”
I have to put my foot down since I’m not into losing a boatload of time and money. “The only time pumpkin-orange bows sell is in October.”
Her forehead crinkles as she gives me one of those practiced looks to make me feel bad. “Bright orange is my favorite color.”
“I thought yellow was your favorite color.”
“That was last year.” Her lips form a pout, taking the sad face to a whole new level. I can do those faces too, but she’s actually better at it. Maybe that’s because she practices.
I remember what happened last year with the yellow bows. We made dozens and dozens of yellow bows that didn’t sell, so we wound up giving most of them to charity.
I finally nod. “Okay, we can make a few bright orange bows to display on Etsy, and when the orders come in, we’ll make more.”
She opens her mouth but quickly clamps it shut and nods. “Okay, I suppose that’s fair.”
When we arrive at the craft store, there’s a line at the register. Sara leans into me, whispering, “It’s obviously one of the better sales.”
I nod. “Obviously.”
We head straight to the ribbon aisle and start loading up our handheld baskets with the colors we know will sell. Sara walks over to the next aisle and lets out a huge groan.
“What happened?”
“We
got here too late. The orange is all gone.”
Some woman wearing a smock with the store’s logo rounds the corner. “I couldn’t help but overhear what you said about the orange ribbon. We can’t keep that color in this season, it’s so popular.”
Sara widens her eyes, bobs her head, and glares at me. “See? I told you it would sell.”
I sigh as I turn to face the saleslady. “When will you get more in?”
The woman grimaces as she shakes her head. “There’s a huge back order on it, so there’s no tellin’.” She points to the yellow ribbon. “We have plenty of yellow left from last year. It was supposed to take off, but it was nowhere near as popular as orange is this year.”
Sara and I do our best to get a little more variety before we finally get in line. I find some peachy orange and hold it up for her approval. She starts to shake her head but changes her mind and shrugs. “I reckon we can try that.”
There are times when my sister and I think alike, but that doesn’t happen as much as it used to. And I hate being on the wrong end of the decision.
After a half hour of waiting in line, we pay and head to my car. Neither of us is in a talkative mood, so we don’t say a word until we get to the parking lot of our apartment complex. We’re so close that sometimes our silence speaks louder than our words, and I’m hearing her loud and clear. Sara is the first to finally say something.
“Ya know, our place is too small for us and our business. We ought to start looking for a house or something.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to rent a house. That’s an awful lot of work to maintain someone else’s property.”
“Who said anything about renting? I was thinking we could buy a house. We make enough money, and we’ve been doing this long enough that I think we could get a mortgage company to lend us the money.”
“I don’t know. Let’s talk about this later, okay?” She stops and turns to face me. “You always do that, Sally, and quite frankly, I’m sick of it. I want to talk about it now.”
“Then talk about it now. Just don’t expect me to contribute to your lame-brained ideas.”
“Lame-brained? Are you serious?” The shrill sound of her voice goes all through me. “Is it any more lame-brained than my idea to do this business that got us both out of jobs we absolutely hated?”
“Who came up with the idea?” Now my voice is just as shrill as hers. “As I recall . . .” My voice trails off as I think back and remember that she truly was the one who thought of it. “Okay, so you said it first, but I’m sure we would have thought of something.”
“That’s just it. When we think of something, we need to act on it like we did our business.” She pauses. “I know you’re worried that one of us will find a man and want to get married, and that’ll leave the other one of us with a house.”
I actually hadn’t thought of that, but now that she’s mentioned it, I know we need to discuss it. “So what are your thoughts about that?” I ask.
She gives me a sheepish smile and shrugs. “I figure we can come up with a plan later.”
“Tell you what, Sara. As soon as you have some ideas for all the possibilities and what-ifs, we can discuss it. But for now, let’s table this discussion.”
She gestures toward the dining room table covered in ribbons and hair clips. “I’m sick of living like this. We can’t even eat at our own table.”
“We have TV trays that are perfectly fine.”
“I hate eating on TV trays,” Sara argues. “And so do you.”
I bob my head, trying to come up with something. She’s right. I’d much rather eat at the dining room table, but I don’t see that we have much of a choice now.
“We’re doing it as a means to reach our goals.” I heard someone say that recently, and it sounds very grown up and businesslike.
Her entire face scrunches up. “Why are you doing that?”
“What?”
“Acting like you’re in charge of our business,” she replies. “It’s supposed to be a partnership. We’ve never talked about our goals. You just like to call the shots and tell me where we should take this business.”
I plant my fists on my hips and glare at her. “It is a partnership, which means that we have to agree on any changes we make, and I’m perfectly happy with things the way they are. If you can figure out a way to make things better without the risk, I’ll listen.”
“But I’m not happy with how things are.”
“Then that should motivate you to come up with a plan.” I give her a sarcastic grin. “If it’s good, I’ll go along with it, but if it’s not, then we’ll continue as we have been.”
“Sally, you and I both know that things are going to change, no matter what we do. So I think we should force the change and not let it just happen to us.”
My sister makes sense, but I’m starting to get the feeling that the change she’s talking about involves something different between us. We’ve been inseparable the whole almost–twenty-two years we’ve been alive, and the thought of that changing makes my stomach hurt. Sure, she gets on my nerves, but I love her so much the very thought of not having her by my side through the rest of our lives is unfathomable.
She places her hand on my shoulder. “This is supposed to be a fifty-
fifty partnership.”
I shrug. “And that’s exactly what it is.”
“Then why won’t you let me have half the say?”
“You’ve always had half the say.” I pause. “Look, Sara, we make joint decisions all the time, and what you’re proposing is such a major change, we both need to be on board for something this big.”
“Or one of us could move out or buy the other one out.”
“No.” I can’t believe my sister would even suggest such a thing.
“Okay, then we can do it together. Just think, Sally. If we buy a three-bedroom house, we can make one of the rooms into an office with a table and lots of storage cabinets so we can really stock up on ribbons and not have to depend on sales at the craft store and—”
I hold up my hand to shush her. “Whoa there, sis. I’d like to have the space, too, but we can’t do anything stupid.”
She gives me an incredulous look. “Are you saying I’m stupid?”
I can’t help but smile when I see the Wright twins in the produce section at the Winn-Dixie. They always look so pulled together and joyful, but as I get closer, I see pinched looks on both of their faces.
“Hey, girls. How’s the hair-bow business?”
One of them turns to the other, then they both give me a blank look. “Okay,” they say in unison.
I can’t put my finger on exactly what, but something is obviously going on. And even though they’re my cousins, I don’t see them often since they’re so much younger than me. And to be honest, I don’t know them very well, and what I do know is only stuff I’ve heard through the family grapevine. I rack my brain for something to say, when I notice the big hand-printed sign in front of a display. “Looks like the eggplant is on sale. I think I’ll get one.”
They glance at each other and walk away. It’s strange that I’ve known them since they were born, yet still I can’t tell them apart. But I know I’m not the only one, which is why a lot of our cousins just call them “Twins.”
I meander up and down the aisles looking for things on my list. When I reach the cereal section, I hear them on the other side. “It’s insane to even think about buying a house. I can picture it now. We close on a house and get it all set up, and then boom! You come home all starry-
eyed because your Prince Charming has asked you to marry him. Then what will I do?”
“That won’t happen, but let’s say it does. All you’d have to do is buy out my half of the house.”
“You just made my case.”
Okay, so what I witnessed in the produce section was two sisters disagreeing over whether or not they should buy a house. That makes sense, and it’s something I know a little bit about si
nce I’ve bought and sold a couple of houses and purchased a condo that I now live in.
I grab the box of cereal on my list and push my buggy around toward the twins. They both look up at me at the same time.
“Girls, I couldn’t help but overhear you talking about buying a house.” I pause and think about how it’s none of my business, but I can’t help myself. “That’s not a bad idea, but it is a huge commitment.”
“See?” One of the girls gives the other one a mock smile before turning back to me. “That’s what I keep telling Sara.”
Okay, so now I know Sara is the one in the animal-print top. I continue. “But if it’s set up properly, it can pay off.”
Now it’s Sara’s turn to gloat. “I’m willing to set everything up.”
“It’s not that easy,” Sally says as she bobs her head at her sister. “What do you know about real estate?”
I hold up my hands. “Why don’t y’all finish up here, take your groceries home, put them away, and come over to my condo when you’re done? I’ll fix dinner and we can discuss it from a business perspective.”
They glance at each other and then nod in unison. Sara smiles as she nudges Sally. “That sure beats heating up a frozen dinner.”
Sally frowns at her and turns to me. “That’s a lot of trouble. Are you sure?”
“It’s no trouble at all,” I say. “I was going to cook for myself anyway. And it’ll be fun to share my own real estate experiences with you two.”
Sara nods. “I have total confidence in you, Shay. Everyone knows you have one of the best business minds in the family.”
I blink. I have never known that people think this about me.
I still have some shopping to do, but the twins appear to be finished. “See y’all in a little while,” I say, “like maybe in an hour?”
Still smiling, I push my buggy toward the seafood counter. I’m almost there when I hear, “Hey, Shay. I haven’t seen you in a while.”
I spin around and find myself face to face with Elliot Stevens, my former crush back in high school. Instinctively, I glance at his left hand. To my delight, it’s ringless. I look up at his face and realize he’s aware of what I just did.
