How (Not) to Fall in Love

by Lisa Brown Roberts

  Lucas stood between me and the furniture. My shoulder brushed against his chest as I stepped around him, and I tried to ignore the sparks shooting through me from the brief touch.

  “We should probably keep the good stuff we already have, right? Like the espresso maker, the toaster, that kind of stuff.” My words tumbled over each other. Keep moving. Gotta keep moving. I turned back to Charlie. “Mom always bought the best.” I glanced at Lucas and smiled shakily. “Anyway, I know a guy who can fix those things if they break.” My heart didn’t race. Too much. My pulse stayed steady. Mostly. This “just friends” thing was working great.

  Lucas tilted his head at me. “What’s funny? God, Darcy, you’re talking about moving and losing all your stuff. Why are you smiling like that?”

  I shook my head. “Never mind.” I paused to compose myself. “You guys are awesome. I’m going to need all the help I can get.” I held out my hand. “I need a pen.” Lucas stared at me like I was nuts, but grabbed a pen from his back pocket.

  “Give me your hand,” I said. He did and I wrote my cell number quickly on his palm, then I dropped the pen into it. I even managed not to blush too much. “Text me if you hear of any places we can afford.”

  “Uh, yeah. Sure. Absolutely.” He slid his pen back into his pocket and ran a hand through his hair, frowning slightly. I tried to read his expression, but he dropped his gaze, hiding it from me.

  I returned to the counter. “Charlie, do you think one of your estate sale connections will sign a contract with a minor?”

  He blinked at me. “Your mom will need to sign it.”

  I sighed. Surely Mom could do that, at least, even if I was going to be stuck doing everything else. “Okay. But I’ll probably have to do all the meetings myself. Mom’s…um…really busy with work. Will you vouch for me?”

  He looked like he might cry. “Of course I will.”

  My shoulders sagged with relief. Maybe I could make this work. Maybe I could move a few mountains, with a little help. “No one does anything truly alone. We’re all standing on the shoulders of those who came before us, or leaning on those walking next to us, sharing our load.” Dad’s Greatest Hits, number 1,834.

  “What time does your shift start?” Charlie asked.

  “Four thirty. Why?”

  “I’m calling in a favor from the lovely Liz. You and I are going to get something to eat first.” He glanced at Lucas. “Hold down—”

  “—the fort. Got it, boss.” Lucas smiled at both of us, though his eyes were troubled as they lingered on me.

  In a booth at Pinky’s Panini World I gorged myself on the most decadent sandwich ever invented—stuffed full of feta cheese, kalamata olives, roasted chicken, and sundried tomatoes. Charlie ate a salad. I didn’t know how he maintained that vegan thing, but he said it was easy. He’d even set up a vegan section in his store, where people could buy shoes and purses that weren’t made out of leather.

  “The pile of crap on your plate just keeps getting bigger, doesn’t it?” he said, putting down his fork.

  I almost choked on an olive, hearing my Zen uncle swear. He must be serious. I didn’t want to talk serious business, so I kept stuffing my face so I could get away with just a nod.

  Charlie fiddled with his straw wrapper for a moment, then reached into his pocket and placed a set of salt and pepper shakers on the table. “These are for you.” One was a black ninja with a white sword; the other was its mirrored twin: a white ninja with a black sword.

  I stopped chewing long enough to smile. “Wow, Uncle Charlie. These are cool.”

  “They made me think of you.” He resumed eating his rabbit food.

  “Me? Why would ninjas make you think of me?”

  “Because you’re stronger than you realize. And you have the potential to be heroic.”

  Since when did my uncle turn into Samuel L. Jackson and decide to recruit me to join the Avengers? Even worse, he kind of sounded like my dad when he was in hyped-up motivational mode. “I’m not exactly a superhero, Charlie. Not even a sidekick.”

  The corners of his eyes crinkled. “You underestimate yourself, Darcy. I hate to see that.”

  Wouldn’t I know it if I were special, or amazing, or heroic? Did Superman need a memo to remind him that he could fly and crush steel with his bare hands? No, he didn’t. I was just plain old Darcy. My dad was the amazing one. Or at least he used to be. Not me.

  I picked up the shaker set. They were cute baby ninjas, not exactly threatening warriors of the night. “They’re a great addition for my collection. Thanks, Charlie.” I chewed on my thumbnail. “Why do I get both of them? Don’t you want to keep the salt shaker?”

  He smiled and shook his head. “I don’t need to anymore.” He almost looked embarrassed. “Kind of silly, I guess, but I hoped if I kept sending you shakers all those years, one day you’d want to track down their mates. And the guy who had them.”

  I wanted to jump across the table and hug him, but I kept it under control because I knew I’d start crying if I did. “Your strategy worked,” I said, tearing up anyway. “I found you.”

  Charlie nodded, smiling. “Now tell me about your dad’s latest postcard.”

  I thought my fabulous panini might just come right back up. “How did you know I’d gotten one?”

  “It’s been a couple of weeks since you mentioned getting one. I just assumed he was due to send another.”

  How much could I tell him? Would he think I was overreacting if I told him I thought Dad was losing it? I fished the card out of my bag and slid it across the table. The others were still in my drawer at home. I carried this one with me because I was still thinking about it. Obsessing, maybe.

  Charlie read the card, rubbing a hand thoughtfully across his beard. It seemed like hours before he looked up.

  “Well?” I asked, when he finally did.

  He shook his head. “I’m not sure what to think.”

  A spark of anger flared in my chest. What was wrong with the adults in my life? Was I the only person who could read between the lines?

  “It’s impossible to live up to my reputation. (Translation: I can’t do this Harvest BS anymore.) People have made me larger than life. I’m just a man. A regular man. I don’t have all the answers. (Translation: I am a total fraud.) I don’t know if I have any answers at all. People are better off following their own advice, not mine. (Translation: I am quitting. And I’m not coming home. Ever.)”

  “What’s not to understand?” I snapped. “He’s bailing.” I glared at Charlie. “He’s not coming back.”

  Charlie leaned against the booth and sighed loud enough to make Pinky glance at us. “I don’t know what he’ll do, Darcy. I don’t think even he knows what’s next.”

  Outrage fanned the anger spark to a furious flame. “So my mom and I are supposed to just sit around waiting, while our lives get worse by the day? We’re supposed to wait for him to decide we’re worth coming home to?”

  Charlie flinched. “You and your mom are worthy of a lot more than you’re getting right now.” He reached across the table and clasped my hands. He had Dad’s hands, only not. Charlie’s were rough with calluses. Dad’s were always smooth and manicured. “Will you let me help you, Darcy?” Charlie asked, his eyes full of love and concern.

  I stared at Dad’s loopy handwriting on the postcard. What could Charlie possibly do to fix any of this? Send a tractor beam out to find my dad and plunk him back into his Harvest offices, raring to go? Find an extra million bucks lying around the thrift store to bail us out?

  The fire in me sputtered and died. Charlie was one of the only good things in my life right now. It wasn’t fair to take out my anger on him.

  “Just hanging out with you and Liz is enough,” I whispered. “It’s more than enough. It’s keeping me going right now.”

  Charlie’s hands squeezed tight around mine. “I want to do so much more.” He swallowed. “I’ve called your mom a few times.
She hasn’t called me back.”

  Did you call in the evening? I wanted to ask. She was probably passed out drunk or hadn’t bothered to listen to her voicemail.

  Out loud I said, “She’s working a crazy schedule with the real estate business. I never know when she’s going to be home.” Or awake. Or sober.

  Charlie nodded. “I’m sure she’s overwhelmed by everything and doing all she can.”

  I fiddled with my side salad, not daring to look at Charlie. I didn’t want to talk about Mom. “Charlie, there’s something I don’t understand. Something I’ve been wanting to ask you, but I’m not sure how.”

  “I hope you know you can ask me anything.”

  I nodded. “It’s about my dad. And you. I don’t understand how…” I took a breath and started again. “You don’t seem mad at him at all. But he rejected you. He stopped inviting you to our house when I was just a kid, but you made Liz listen to his CDs. You’ve even said you like some of his Harvest stuff. If I were you, I’d be really angry. And hurt.”

  Charlie rubbed his beard, then met my gaze. “You certainly have a right to ask all this, Darcy.” He gave me a small smile. “I’m glad you did. It just confirms something about you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You have a seeker’s soul, Darcy. Like me.”

  “A seeker? Me?”

  He smiled again. “Yes. You want to know why. You don’t like easy answers.”

  I nodded. “I don’t have much patience for BS. Especially now.”

  He chuckled. “So I won’t give you any.” He steepled his hands, watching me closely. “Your dad and I were very different as kids. We were both smart. But he was the popular one. The athlete and the scholar. I was the hippie.” He grinned. “You probably figured that out.”

  I laughed softly. “Yeah.”

  “So when it was time for college, your dad headed off in a glorious blaze of scholarships and big dreams. I was a year behind him. After I graduated high school, instead of going to college I took some time off. I stayed in a monastery. It was a silent order, so I didn’t talk for three months.”

  My eyes widened. “No way.”

  “Way.” He grinned. “Then I spent some time in a Buddhist retreat center. I learned how to meditate. I still do it every day.”

  “Maybe I should try that,” I muttered, thinking of my anxiety balloon.

  “I highly recommend it,” Charlie said. “What I’m trying to say is that I understand the desire to go on a quest for meaning, which is what I think your dad is doing.”

  I stared at Charlie for a long time. I thought of the many hours Dad and I had spent in the sacred space of our personal Stonehenge. That I’d destroyed. Was he trying to regain that sense of peace? Had he stopped believing in Harvest? Was he looking for a new lodestar to follow?

  “But what about when I was a kid?” I asked. “All those years we never saw you? Aren’t you mad at him for practically disowning you?”

  Charlie took a long breath. “I forgave your dad long ago, Darcy. I’ve always believed that some day he and I will reconnect. I still think we will.” He paused. “Especially now.”

  He looked at his plate. “The thing about Harvest,” he said quietly, “is that I agree with most of what your dad says.” He looked up and grinned at me. “Your dad and I believe many of the same things. We just have different ways of living what we believe.”

  That was an understatement. I thought of my dad jetting around the country and hanging out with famous people. Then I thought of Charlie hanging out behind his counter, listening to anyone’s story in exchange for a donut. Charlie was the listener. My dad was the speaker. But maybe they weren’t so very different underneath the surface.

  “You should’ve been a priest,” I said, taking another bite of my sandwich.

  His eyebrows rose. “Almost did that,” he said. “But then I ended up with the store. And I met Liz.”

  I thought of all the people Charlie helped, the clothes he gave away, the homeless who found warmth in his store on cold days, telling him stories for free donuts. “Your store is like your church,” I said.

  He reached across the table to squeeze my hand. We sat quietly, just looking at each other. Finally I picked up the ninjas and waved them between us. “I should head back to Liz’s. It’s time for my badass ninja self to kick some espresso butt.”

  Charlie laughed as he put cash on the table to pay our bill. As we left the restaurant, he wrapped his arm around my shoulders and smiled down at me. “Remember when I said you were my favorite niece?”

  “And your only niece,” I reminded him as we fell into step together.

  He ruffled my hair. “You’d be my favorite even if I had a hundred nieces.”

  Mom was already passed out in her bed when I got home close to eleven. Judging by the state of the kitchen, she’d had wine for dinner.

  Toby slept next to me on the couch as I watched a rerun of Friends. In the middle of an episode, Mom staggered into the family room rubbing her eyes.

  “What time is it?” she asked.

  “Almost midnight. You never called.” She stared at me glassy-eyed so I went on in the same level voice, “I had an early dinner with Charlie so I didn’t cook. But there’s still leftover meatloaf from last night in the fridge.”

  “Ugh. Disgusting. I hate meatloaf.”

  I glared at her. “Well, pardon me, madam chef, but it’s the best I could do. And it’s better than a crummy frozen dinner so I think you should thank me.”

  She sank into the chair across from me. She was still in her work clothes. Her slacks were wrinkled and her blouse dotted with red wine stains. “Give me a break, Darcy. I’ve had a long day.”

  I stared at her in disbelief. I could tell by the way her words slurred that she was still drunk, even after sleeping. “You’ve had a long day?” I asked. “What about me?”

  “It’s not the same thing. You’re just a kid.”

  “Not anymore I’m not. Thanks to Dad.” I paused. “And you.”

  Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Don’t you dare blame me for this.”

  My chest heaved. “I don’t blame you for Dad leaving. I don’t. But I do blame you for not being around anymore.” And for being drunk all the time, but I was too scared to say that out loud.

  “I have to work, Darcy,” she whined. “I have to do whatever Pam tells me to. The money she’s paying me is the only thing keeping us going.”

  I took a calming breath, because I needed her onboard with the estate sale idea. I wanted her to act like a grown-up, to be her old self, to take some of the load off my shoulders. But maybe that was too much to ask. “That’s why I called you this afternoon about selling our stuff. What do you think?”

  She stared at the television for a long time, then shifted her gaze to me. “It’s too much for me, Darcy. But if you’re willing to do it, go ahead.”

  Just because it was the answer I’d expected didn’t make it hurt any less. “You’ll probably have to sign the contract,” I told her. “I’m sure I’m too young.”

  She closed her eyes. “Fine. Whatever. Go ahead and set it up.”

  I shut off the television and went to bed without saying good night.

  Chapter Fifteen

  October 29

  The next day I called the first estate sale company on Charlie’s list. I’d worried about it all day at school and tackled it first thing when I got home.

  “Family Solutions,” said a tinkling voice.

  “Hi, I’m Darcy Covington. My uncle, Charlie Covington, recommended that I call you.”

  “Yes?” The woman on the phone was hesitant.

  I tried to lower my voice so I sounded older. “My family needs to have an estate sale.” I took a breath. “My mom will sign all the paperwork, but I’ll be coordinating it.” I tried to sound bossy, like Sal, and give her no chance to say no. “Charlie assured me that you’d be happy to work with me, with our
family, but if you’d rather not, he’s given me some other names to call.”

  “Oh, well, of course I can help.” The woman sounded perkier. “Since Charlie recommended you.”

  “Great.” I smiled into the phone. “When can you come to our house? We’re moving at the end of the month so we need to do this sale right away.”

  “Oh my. That’s tough, with a holiday next month. Let me look at my calendar.” I heard the clicking of a keyboard. “My next opening is December fifth.”

  Crap. We had to be out by the end of November. “Is there any way you can do it sooner?”

  “I’ll put you on my calendar for the weekend of December fifth, but you might want to check with the other companies Charlie recommended. Call me back to let me know either way.”

  My little bit of optimism took a hard hit. I’d been sure this was the answer, but I should have realized a good agent would be booked far in advance. I spent the next half hour calling Charlie’s other referrals, trading voicemails, and pacing the kitchen floor, my stomach getting tighter and tighter with anxiety. We were out of luck. No one had openings before the end of the year. Family Solutions was our only option.

  I only needed an extra week, or two. Could I persuade the board of directors to give us a break? J.J. hadn’t given us much hope, but if I went to them myself, showed them I was working on the problem…

  Toby snored from the middle of the kitchen floor. I sank next to him and rubbed his stomach. “What should I do, Toblerone?”

  Persuade the board to give us extra time. Make a speech in front of all of those people who thought my dad was a criminal. Just the idea of it made me sweat.

  “I don’t know if I can do this,” I whispered. Toby opened an eye to look at me as if wondering what I was so worried about. He had a lot more confidence in me than I did.

  I needed to prepare. To practice. It was going to be like debate class, only a million times worse. “But this is different,” I told Toby. “This time there’s a lot more than a grade at stake. I have to win.”

  I arrived at Charlie’s shop an hour before my shift started at Liz’s, grateful to see him behind the counter. I’d brought Toby with me since I sometimes left him with Charlie or Lucas while I worked in the coffee shop.