“Okay.” I smiled and waved him off.
Unsure of what to do in the situation, I grabbed my coffee off the table and walked back over to the counter.
Sean stepped aside and bent down to pat Willow—letting Donovan walk out. Donovan didn’t turn back around and Sean’s eyes didn’t leave mine nor did his hands leave Willow.
“Really, Hol?” Sean asked using the name he had given me when we were married.
“You don’t have the right to call me Hol anymore.” It got my goat every time he shortened my name. “Holly. My name is Holly.”
“Holly Harper.” His playboy grin crossed his lips. “Don’t forget that you still have my name.”
“Trust me.” I glared at him. “If it wasn’t a hassle to change it and all the documents in my name for the shop, I would have gotten rid of Harper a long time ago.”
Groink, groink, groink. Willow stopped shy of the storage room door and looked back. She hated when Sean and I fought. She was just like a little kid. Our little kid.
“It’s okay, girl.” He put the chandelier on one of the tables and bent down, calling her over.
“I’m so glad one of my girls is glad to see me.” He didn’t bother to look up to see my reaction.
Willow plopped down with her legs sprawled out and then flipped on her back. She loved a good belly scratch.
“We aren’t your girls anymore.” I patted my leg for Willow to get up. “Remember? You changed all of that when you realized you didn’t want us.”
I still never knew what had happened between us. I thought we were happy and my weight proved it. He hated the fact I was wearing elastic-waistband pants and I hated he spent all his time drinking with his buddies at The Livin’ End.
“I’ve changed.” He picked up the chandelier off the floor and walked over to the counter. He pointed to the spot above the cash register. “Here?”
“Yes.” I couldn’t wait to see the beautiful light installed in the shop.
If it weren’t for me saving Sean’s ass. . .again, I would have never gotten my hands on the chandelier. I guess you could say it was my payment for saving his life. Literally.
“I’m going to get some tools from my truck.” He walked to the door and turned back to look at me.
The gaze was a little too long. I looked away and grabbed the schedule, pretending to work. I didn’t know whom I was kidding. When Sean was around, it was hard for me to concentrate on anything other than my fingers going around his neck. He might have left me, but my heart hadn’t fully left him, even though I was trying to move on with Donovan.
Sean was the only handyman around town. He owned Sean’s Little Shack Handyman Service. I hated to admit it, but he was good at what he did. And all the Divas used him. He had them eating out of his hand.
Within seconds he was back in the shop with all sorts of tools to install the chandelier.
“So are you dating the teacher?” Sean had grabbed the ladder from the storage room and shimmied up it.
“We’ve gone on a couple of dates.” I pretended not to pay him any attention. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
I grabbed a silver cloth and worked my way down the silver findings. They needed to be polished and it was a mindless activity.
“What do you see in him?” Sean asked before a rush of girls came in the shop. His green eyes pierced me.
The bell dinged, giving me the perfect excuse to look away from him.
“Hi girls.” I greeted them and took note of the time.
They waved and made their way around the shop oohing and awing over the shiny beads.
Most of the high school girls came in to see what I had put on sale or what my latest creation was. They were perfect advertisements for me. Plus they let me in on all the latest beading designs.
Every once in a while I would glance over at Sean. He wasn’t dressed in his usual handyman overalls that he insisted he wear while working. He was in a pair of light colored jeans and a black plaid long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up perfectly on his toned forearms.
His shaggy blond hair was perfect next to his tanned face. His jaw set tense as he concentrated on not getting electrocuted.
Girls, girls, girls. Sean’s phone sang out from the cell phone clip that was pinned on his belt.
“You still have Mötley Crüe as your ringtone?” I rolled my eyes.
The girls giggled from the other side of the room. They pointed and stared at Sean. He was hot.
“Sean’s Little Shack,” he answered and got down from the ladder.
While he put the ladder back into the storage room, I tried to listen to what he was saying, but couldn’t make it out.
“I’m back.” Marlene strutted back into the shop. “Bernadine said she’d just meet you at the fat meeting.”
“Seriously?” I asked Marlene. “Don’t you have a filter?”
“What?” She shrugged. “I call it what it is.”
I shook my head. It was almost time for my weekly Food Watchers meeting and weigh-in. I was starving and I hoped the scales showed it.
“Hey, handsome.” Marlene squealed when Sean came out of the storage room. “I didn’t know you were here or I would have come back sooner.” She winked, chomped her gum, and ran her finger down his arm. He blushed. “If you need a date to the Barn Dance, let me know.” She winked and blew him an air kiss.
“I don’t think I could handle a woman like you,” Sean’s southern drawl was reeling Marlene right on in.
“I’ll be gentle,” she teased and looked at me. “What?” she asked when she saw I was not amused. “Holly Harper, how can you not look at those eyes and be drawn back in? You were one lucky girl.”
“He was one lucky guy.” I directed her to the stacked boxes.
“Slave driver.” She wiggled her way back over to the unfinished boxes.
She did make me wonder whom Sean would take to the annual Barn Dance. He never missed it and was never alone.
Chapter Two
“I’m going to kill Henry Frisk!” Bernadine stomped her feet as we waited in line to be weighed at our weekly Food Watchers meeting. Her jade eyes narrowed, and she folded her arms across her chest. The velour green jumpsuit looked good against her long red hair. She huffed, “I honestly can’t believe he moved back here.” She held a piece of paper in her hand. “And if he thinks I’m going to pay for some interior decorator bill that costs as much as my monthly alimony, he’s crazy!”
Bernadine had to be the neatest person in Swanee, right down to her appearance. Bernadine and Henry’s marriage was like the ones you hear about where the couple wakes up one day and realize that they don’t know each other.
He’d come out better off than Bernadine. She got the house on the lake across from my cottage, and he got their huge mansion in Ft. Myers, Florida. There was still a bitter taste in Bernadine’s mouth. After all, she had moved to Swanee for him.
Henry thought he wanted the small town life, while she wanted the beach and sand. When it came down to the end, Bernadine was the one who ended up loving Swanee and all her new friends.
I extended my arm with my key fob pointed toward my car and clicked it to make sure the doors were locked. I had parked next to the cutest yellow Fiat with new tags.
Bernadine handed me the piece of crinkled paper.
“This is an almost eight thousand dollar bill,” I said, clearly surprised by the number.
I was stunned at first because she said that was about as much as she had gotten in alimony, but I knew she was kidding. There was no way she was getting that much alimony. Was she? “He wants you to pay this?”
“Yes. I’ve never even heard of this place. Buskins Interiors.” The lines between her brows creased. She ran her finger between her eyes. “I need to use the money for these stress lines he’s giving me.”
“I can help you right here.” Charlie St. Clair, the Food Watchers Specialist, oozed with enthusiasm that pretty much made me nauseous. “You look gr
eat Bernadine.”
Of course she was all happy and chipper with her spirit hands, big boobs, five-foot-seven-inch thin frame, and to make it worse, perfect cheekbones.
I rolled my eyes and looked into the meeting room while Charlie buttered up little butterball Bernadine. In fact, I thought Bernadine looked like she had gained a few pounds. But like a tick-a-lock, I kept my mouth shut.
The meeting was located in one big room with ten rows of yellow chairs. There were three workstations with computers and floor scales along with a Food Watchers Specialist in matching yellow shirts and khaki pants.
I looked awful in yellow, but not Charlie. I bet she looked good in everything.
“Anyway,” Bernadine peeled off the My Name Is sticker and stuck it right on her boob. She sat in Charlie’s chair and tied her running shoes back up.
Charlie cocked her perfectly sculpted brows, twitched her lips and held her hand out for me to give her my weigh-in log.
“Well?” The enthusiasm she had for Bernadine wasn’t oozing for me. She smacked the name sticker on the counter for me to fill out. “I have a full line of people waiting. Are you weighing or not?”
My mouth opened, then I snapped it shut in fear I would start a war of words. I decided my best revenge would be to lose more weight and look better than her. I took my shoes off because every single ounce counted when on the scale.
“He wants to take me back to court to stop the alimony because I opened Second Cup.” Bernadine slipped her bangle bracelets on her wrist. “It’s bad enough he moved back here, but to take me back to court.”
I slapped my weigh-in chart on the counter for Charlie to gawk at. Charlie tapped on her computer keyboard and didn’t pay any attention to me like she did Bernadine.
“Step up,” Charlie said in a monotone voice.
“And to think that he sold that Ft. Myers house for over two million dollars. He doesn’t need the piddly money he gives me each month.” Bernadine brushed her hair behind her ears. “I told Flora to call in her favor that her ex-ass owes her because I was going to hire him as my lawyer.”
“That is a great idea,” I said and stepped up on the scale.
I held my breath wondering if air weighed anything.
“Get off.” Charlie tapped on the computer before she wrote on my paper. “Down a pound.”
“Yay!” Bernadine hopped off the chair. “I think I found it.” She winked and patted her belly. “I guess the smells from the café are making me gain. I swear I haven’t ventured from my healthy eating.”
Bernadine had a perplexed look on her face like she was contemplating what she had said. She pulled a Ziploc baggie full of carrots and celery out of the zippered pocket of her jumpsuit jacket. She always carried a Ziploc baggie full of some sort of veggies. And somehow Willow always ate them, leaving little for Bernadine.
“Oh, Bernadine.” Charlie’s happy chirp was back. She pulled a little brown wrapper from underneath the counter. “Here is Barbie’s latest fat-free dessert. We hope you decide to carry it in Second Cup.”
Excitement twirled in my stomach, or maybe it was starvation twirling, but I couldn’t wait to get my sample of Barbie’s new treat.
Barbie was one of those icons who had the one name like Madonna, Beyoncé, Cher. Barbie.
She was Ms. Food Watchers herself. She owned and operated Food Watchers. Lately she had ventured out into decadent desserts and gave samples out to the attendees. There was a display of them in the lobby of Food Watchers and Bernadine had started featuring a few in her shop.
I stood there waiting eagerly for my sample. Bernadine popped hers in her mouth.
“Delicious.” Bernadine closed her eyes and chewed slowly. My mouth watered. She licked her fingers.
“I’m sorry,” Charlie said apologetically and I actually thought she meant it. “I’m all out.”
“No problem.” I waved it off and followed Bernadine into the meeting room up to the front row like we did every week.
Me, I’d stay way in the back. Last seat in fact. But not Bernadine. She likes to be front and center. Everywhere.
“Why am I gaining weight?” Bernadine wiggled her fingers and winked hello to a few other members.
“It’s only a pound.” I sat down and waited for the big show to start. “We can walk that off.”
“If you find time away from Donovan Scott.” Bernadine winked right before the lights dimmed and the disco ball in the center of the meeting room was turned up to high.
The mirror ball swirled around. The reflection darted off the excited members’ faces as they clapped, hooted and hollered in anticipation for Ms. Food Watchers to make her weekly appearance.
“Is everybody ready?” A loud voice boomed over the intercom.
Every single person had a big smile on their face, as if some Hollywood megastar had just walked into the room. Enthusiastically, we clapped to the beat of the music. A couple of people let out a few hoots, hollers, and double-finger whistles.
The clapping and swaying was infectious. Raucous music was blared and the mirror ball stopped to make room for the streaming spot light. They rotated in the center of the room.
My toes began to tap like they had a mind of their own. Well, a little sway too and fro isn’t going to hurt anyone, I thought. When in Rome.
The members in the center aisle parted as a tall, blond, gazelle-like Barbie made her way through the crowd. She held a microphone in one hand and greeted her eager, food-deprived acolytes with the other.
Ms. Food Watchers. Envy chilled through me as my eyes traveled up her legs to her cinched waist and ending at her big happy smile.
“Hello!” She sang out when she got to the front of the room and hopped up on the small stage right in front of Bernadine and me. “Is everyone ready to lose some weight this week?”
I had to shield my eyes from the glare of her pro-white dentals.
Bernadine nudged me. “She’s going to Henry’s practice now. Damn,” she leaned a little closer to me, “he never got my teeth that white.”
“I said,” she repeated as if the yells and screams that rattled the place weren’t loud enough, “Is everybody ready to lose some weight?” Barbie pumped her fists in the air and the crowd erupted in even louder cheers.
“I swear this is a cult,” I leaned over and whispered in Bernadine’s ear.
She probably didn’t hear me. In true cult style, Bernadine’s eyes were locked on Barbie as she cheered and fist pumped right along with the rest of them.
Chapter Three
On nights of beading classes, I closed the shop around a quarter to six. That way, it gave me time to move the tables a little closer together and get out bead-boards for each beader along with their own set of tools.
“1,2,3,” I counted out the crimping tools from the shelf in the storage room. I needed twelve all together.
The crimp tool was the most important beading tool in my opinion. It was the instrument that squished the crimp bead or other findings to complete the beading project.
“I’m back,” Marlene yelled from the front of the shop.
Marlene tended The Beaded Dragonfly while I went to my Food Watchers meeting. When I got back, she left to go get Agnes Pearl. Marlene lived with Agnes. Agnes hired Marlene before Marlene’s high heel planted on the ground when she first came to Swanee.
Marlene needed a job and Agnes was looking for an “Agnes keeper”, someone to keep her company, though Marlene did things like go to the grocery for Agnes and picked up around the house. Saying Marlene was cleaning Agnes’s house was a stretch.
At a spry eighty-five years old, Agnes probably took care of Marlene instead of the other way around. Especially since she had that new eye surgery and she can see like a teenager with perfect vision.
“I’ll be out in a minute.” I grabbed a few more items like the Acu-flex beading wire.
I found it to be the most durable wire when making jewelry and I wanted to make sure I let Margaret and her friends us
e the best of the best for their Wine and Bead class. Margaret McGee spreading the word and wearing my designs was better than any paid advertising I could have ever done.
“I told her to go for more money.” Agnes Pearl adjusted her turban. Today’s choice was bright yellow with a green plastic emerald in the dead center. “He is a low-down dirty dog if you ask me.” Agnes nodded and hugged Cheri as they exchanged the news about Bernadine’s situation.
Nobody was asking her. But that was what you had to love about Agnes. She was old and like most old people, she spoke her mind.
Cheri lived in the apartment above The Beaded Dragonfly. She was a local college student who not only worked a few hours a week for me for extra money, but she loved Willow. Bless Cheri’s heart, she was a savior. She took Willow for her daily walks while I was busy around the shop.
Cheri adjusted the beret on the top of her head. She was so pretty with her straight brown hair and blunt bangs.
Don’t be cruel. Cheri’s phone belted out. She looked at it. Her big brown eyes popped. “Oh, I gotta take this.” She disappeared into the storage room.
Cheri was fun and young. She was the fly-by-your-seat Diva who had gotten married at the age of nineteen in a quickie wedding in Vegas by. . .you guessed it, an Elvis impersonator. The next day her annulment was just as quick, making her a Divorced Diva.
“What do you think about that jerk?” Agnes Pearl asked me. Her eyes narrowed.
Without asking her whom she was talking about, I knew. Henry Frisk. He was a jerk for showing up in Swanee after he hated it, suing Bernadine yet again, and taking business from Kevin Russell. Kevin had been the only dentist in Swanee for as long as I could remember. He never had to worry about competition. Until now.
“I heard Dr. Russell confronted him at the Barn Dance meeting last night about how Henry was stealing Dr. Russell’s clients.” Agnes picked at the wispy pieces of hair sticking out of her turban next to her ear.
“Did they really?” Flora’s head was tilted to the side. Her cell phone was wedged between her ear and shoulder. “Hey, gotta go,” she said to the recipient on the other end. She sat her designer handbag on the table and planted her butt in the chair next to Agnes. “Dish.”
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