by Caitlyn Blue
“I have the best handwriting.”
“Face it, Emma.” Gabby’s voice is dry. “You’ve done more for this wedding than Julie has.”
In my heart I know they’re right, but it’s what I’ve always done.
“Date Zach or don’t date Zach,” Brynn says. “Whatever works for you—but don’t let your sister make the decision for you.”
“Maybe. I’ll think about it.” But I know Julie isn’t the reason it’s not going to happen between Zach and me. “In the meantime, I have the store closing to worry about and a couple hundred birdseed hearts to make. Who’s with me?”
27
Zach
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What the hell. Fuck.
The words punch into my gut with each step I take away from Emma’s front door. My instinct tells me to turn around and go pound on her door until she lets me in, then sweep her off her feet and carry her upstairs to her bedroom.
Where I’ll do what?
Make love to her?
Let her pummel me until she stops being angry and hurt?
Fuck.
I’ve ruined everything. And why? Because she told me something true about myself and I couldn’t handle it? It was something I needed to hear. I’m not anyone’s forever. At least I haven’t been acting like I am. And Emma doesn’t think I’ve treated her like the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.
My foot slips off the gas and I coast to a stop a block away from her house. I throw the car into park and pound on the steering wheel, overwhelmed by misery. My gut is an ever-tightening knot of regret and self-loathing.
Why didn’t I figure this out sooner? I could have saved us both a lot of frustration and angst. Now, if I try to explain my change of heart to Emma, I’ll be wasting my breath. She’s seen far more evidence that I’m not interested in a serious relationship than evidence I’m ready to settle down, and letting Riley spend the night didn’t help my cause.
No, her mind is poisoned against me. Even if she comes to believe I didn’t sleep with Riley, she will constantly be expecting me to disappoint her again. And I can’t blame her.
I can, however, blame her sister. It’s just as much Julie’s fault as mine that Emma has pulled away. Last night Julie filled Emma’s head with negative assumptions about me, all because of something she thinks I did to her eight years ago. Figures that doing something to help out my buddy would come back and bite me in the ass like this. It’s a no-win situation.
Once again I’m contemplating how different the two sisters are. Julie wants the world laid at her feet. Emma is happy finding ways to make less into more. I love her optimism and her unique way of approaching a problem. As freaked out as she was at the idea of losing her family’s antique store, she figured out a way to continue to sell antiques by splitting up the inventory among several shops.
I know she’d still like to have a store of her own. She has a vision for something that would suit her more than the current hodgepodge of antiques that fill her family’s store. Maybe I can help her make that happen. I’m pretty sure I can help her bring her ideas to life. But will she let me?
Doubtful.
What I need is help.
Putting the car in gear, I start winding through the neighborhood toward the Callahan’s house. I’ll talk to Emma’s mom, get her on my side. During the time I dated Julie, I’d been a regular fixture in the Callahan house. I could tell from Mrs. C’s reaction to me at dinner the other night that she didn’t hold my treatment of her elder daughter against me. Her dad, now that’s a whole different situation. Julie is definitely a daddy’s girl. There was never a doubt that he’d do anything for her. I hope he feels the same way about Emma.
Mr. C answers the door, and he isn’t happy to see me. “If you’re looking for Emma, she’s not here.”
“I know. I just left her house. I’m wondering if I can talk to Mrs. C about the antique store.”
He crosses his arms and scowls at me. “Whatever for?”
“I know Emma seems on board with the plan to dissolve the store and divvy up the merchandise among various stalls at antique malls, but I think she really would love having a store of her own, and based on what she and I have talked about, I want to see if we can make that happen for her.”
“We?” her father asks, his brows coming together suspiciously. “What do you hope to get out of this?”
“All I want is for Emma to be happy.”
“Martin, for heaven’s sake,” Mrs. C’s voice nudges at her husband from inside the house. “Stop grilling the poor boy on the front steps and let him in.”
With a grunt and a show of obvious reluctance, Emma’s dad steps aside to reveal his wife standing in the foyer.
“Come in, Zach. Are you hungry?”
Since Emma showed up at my condo this morning, all I’ve had is coffee. “I don’t want to be any trouble.”
“It’s no trouble. I was just getting around to making lunch.”
“Then I’m in.”
While Mr. C heads back to the living room, I follow Mrs. C into the kitchen. I spent a lot of time here studying with Julie and sometimes Emma.
“Did I hear that you have some ideas about the store?”
“I think Emma likes having a retail store. In fact, she’s been creating the sort of place she dreams about on the lower level.”
From Mrs. C’s lack of surprise, I can see this isn’t news to her. “She’s never said anything, but I read the business plan she did for her college project. I recognize those same ideas in her displays downstairs. It breaks my heart that she won’t get to transform the whole store.”
“From what was said that night we had dinner here, I know Emma’s dad wants the antique store to close, but I believe in what Emma can do and would love your help to convince her.”
“I think this is a great idea.” Her face softens with hope and happiness. “I’ve been worried about Emma. Working in the shop is all she’s ever done or talked about doing. It was supposed to be her legacy. When Lucy died and we found all that additional inventory, things got out of control.” Mrs. C shakes her head. “Have you talked to Emma about this?”
“We talked about it, but after how things went with her dad at dinner…”
Mrs. C glances toward the living room. “Her father was pretty insistent that we should go the antique malls route.”
“And Emma is pretty determined to do what the both of you think is right. She’s pretty stubborn once she sets her mind to something.”
A dimple flashes in Mrs. C’s cheek. “You don’t say.” And then she grows serious once more. “Usually that’s a good thing because it means she doesn’t give up when adversity strikes, but it also means that it’s hard to get her to see options.”
I sure know that because she can’t get past this image she has of me as a guy with no interest in being serious with just one woman. One very special woman.
“Both my daughters take after their father in that respect,” Mrs. C says. “So, what is your plan to convince my daughter to go forward with her idea for Vintage Vignette?”
“I know I’ll have to secure funding. There’s a lot of inventory in the store, but not much of it is going to provide the sort of capital she’ll need to get started. I have someone in mind that likes to fund start-up businesses. I think Vintage Vignette would be right up his alley. But I’ll need to come up with a business plan of some sort.”
“Are you sure you don’t want Emma to be involved?”
“Not yet. Let me get everything rolling. Once we’re far enough along we can bring the plan to her. And you’ll need to be the one to sell it to her. If you are behind it.” I nod. “I definitely think she’ll be on board.”
“You know, I have her business plan project up in the attic. Let me go get it.”
“That would be great.” It will give me a place to start. “Do you want some help?”
“No, it’s a mess up there.” She gives me a little grin. “Great Aunt Lucy wasn’t the
only packrat in our family.”
Despite her comment about things being a mess, she’s back in ten minutes with a box of Emma’s college stuff. “Here it is.”
After perusing the report for several minutes, I start to feel a little buzz of excitement. “This is a fantastic business plan. Some of the numbers will need to be updated, but the depth of information she gathered is exceptional. I’ve seen a lot of business plans in my day and this is one of the best.”
“I thought the same thing when I first read it.” Mrs. C glances at the sketches and photos that Emma gathered for the project that helped her define her vision. “It’s not the sort of store that would do well around here. It needs a trendier area.”
“Something closer to downtown. I was thinking in the River North area near Coastal Vibe and Gabby’s new speakeasy.” Near where I live. “I know she loves Cedar Park. How do you think she’ll feel about leaving?”
“You live up that way, don’t you?” she asks, and I nod. “I think she’ll be excited about having a store close to you.”
“Close to me?”
“I know you two have only recently reconnected, but I think you’ve become very important to her these last few weeks.”
“I don’t think that’s the case anymore.”
“I saw the way she looked at you that night you came over for dinner. It’s the same way she used to look at you in high school.” Mrs. C pauses for only a heartbeat before saying, “And I noticed the way you looked at her. It makes me glad you two found each other at last. You know, even when you were dating Julie, I always thought you’d be happier with Emma.”
Her words rock me. “Why?”
“The two of you were always laughing together. You understood each other in a way that I never saw between you and Julie. On the surface you and Julie made sense. Both popular and the same age, but Emma brought out your considerate side in a way Julie didn’t or couldn’t.” Mrs. C takes my hand in both of hers and squeezes. “Anyway, I’m really glad you and Emma are together. I think you can make each other very happy.”
This is the perfect moment to explain to Emma’s mom that she and I aren’t together now and probably won’t be in the future. But explaining how I’d messed up might prevent Mrs. C from helping me surprise Emma with a new store.
Instead, I give her my most winning smile and promise, “I’m going to do my best.”
28
Emma
Nearly two weeks have gone by since I’ve seen Zach. How is it possible that after only hanging out with him for a few weeks, I can miss him this much? Who falls for someone that fast? Me. Although to be fair, I already had a head start. I’ve been crushing on him since I was fifteen years old.
Every couple days he makes contact, sometimes offers dinner or just to get together, but I’ve refused each time. As much as I miss him, I know how those evenings will end up, and while I long to be with him, going down that road is only going to make it that much harder to get over him.
And am I going to get over him? I can’t imagine a time when my chest didn’t ache and I didn’t feel like bursting into tears over the stupidest things. When I’m not putting in ridiculous hours at the store, I’ve been staying in my room. My roommates have started leaving chocolates and bath products outside my door to cheer me up.
Today I’m heading to my parents’ house to get some help with the birdseed hearts my sister wants. The process is simple enough, but it’s time consuming. I’ve done half by myself, so I’ve enlisted both my mom and Julie’s help to finish. Hopefully my sister won’t try to skip out on my mom the way she does with me.
“What all needs doing?” My mom asks as I haul in forty pounds of birdseed, cookie cutters, construction paper, and jute.
“The tag hearts need to be punched and stamped with thank-you’s. I’ll get the seed mixture started if you can lay out kitchen parchment on some cookie sheets.”
I continue to pull things out of the plastic tubs I’d brought in. Nonstick cooking spray, a chopstick for making the holes in the birdseed cakes, paper punches as well as the ingredients that will enable the birdseed to stick together.
“Julie did say she was coming by to help today, right?” I ask.
“I told her to be here at eleven.”
I glance at the microwave clock. It’s 11:30. “You should’ve told her eight a.m.”
Mom sighs. “I swear that girl will be late to her own wedding.”
Our eyes lock and we begin to laugh, and soon we are wiping tears from our cheeks. It feels good to let loose. I’ve been so sad these last couple of weeks. Missing Zach. Bummed about having to close the store. Anxious about what my future holds. Maybe I’ll go into business making birdseed hearts. I’ve had enough practice.
“I’m really lucky to have you as my mom,” I say, overrun by sentimentality. “I’m not sure I tell you that enough.”
“I’m really proud of you. I hope you know that.” As she comes over to hug me, my throat closes up and tears fill my eyes. “I’ve been thinking this last week about the building getting sold and us being forced to close the store, might be a blessing in disguise. You know your father wants to take early retirement and do some traveling. I would’ve felt terrible leaving you with that huge mess.”
“I’ve never heard you refer to it that way before.” Not once had she flinched when we’d found out about the excess inventory Great Aunt Lucy had been collecting and storing over the years. “You just take everything in stride.”
I tried to model myself after her, but it isn’t always easy, and in the case of my sister, maybe not the best idea.
“I love what you’ve been doing downstairs—organizing the rooms into gorgeous and shoppable displays. What if you took the best pieces and created a small, high-end shop that would enable you to showcase your style? If you opened a store, I know it would do so well.”
A familiar malaise settles over me as I think about the future. “We don’t have the money for that. Let’s just focus on sorting out the best pieces and get them into our stalls.”
I’ve found space in six antique shops around the Chicago area. Over the next couple months we’ll get them stocked.
“I know if we put our heads together, we can figure something out.”
For some reason my mom doesn’t want to let this idea of a new store go. She’s as upset about losing our business as I am, and I don’t want to upset her further.
“Sure. You know I’d love to do something like that.” I just know it’s not possible. “We can talk about it.” Because talk is cheap.
Satisfied, my mom takes the construction paper and stomps into the dining room where she can spread it out.
By the time Julie shows up, the second dozen hearts are in the process of drying and I’m pressing the seed mixture into forms on a new tray.
“Hey.” She strolls in like she’s not an hour late. “Wow, looks like you have quite the assembly line going.”
“Suit up.” I toss an apron at her. “You’re just in time to get your hands dirty.”
She gives the seed mixture a doubtful look and puts the apron aside. “Can’t I do something else?”
“Mom is doing a great job with the paper punches and stamping. Making the hearts out of birdseed takes longer and I’m almost out of mixture. Before I make more, I’ll show you what to do.”
The process is pretty much something a kindergartner could handle, but Julie manages to bungle the first three she does. I’m convinced my normally coordinated sister is failing on purpose so that I will step in and take over. Watching her work, I grit my teeth to avoid doing just that.
“I don’t suppose you’ve heard,” Julie says, appearing to finally get the hang of things, “but Riley’s visit is turning into a full-time deal.”
“She’s moving back to Chicago?” Acting like I don’t know the real story isn’t really all that difficult because I’m curious how much Julie knows.
“Apparently she quit after she was sexually harassed by t
he cousin of the lead designer and they wouldn’t do anything about it.”
“What’d he do?”
Julie is oblivious to my surprise. “I guess the guy grabbed her breast right in the office. And when she complained, they threatened to blacklist her with all the other design houses if she said anything. So she quit. That’s why she came home.”
That was a whopper of a tale.
“What is she planning on doing?” I ask.
“Things are up in the air at the moment. I was wondering if, while she’s job hunting, maybe she could help out at the store, since everything has to get inventoried to get ready for the move.”
Just the thought of packing up everything makes me shudder. It took us two months to sort through and price everything Great Aunt Lucy had collected in her garage.
“Sure,” I say, even though the last thing I want is to work with Riley. Despite knowing nothing happened between her and Zach, I can’t get the picture of her in his robe out of my head.
“And I was wondering if maybe she could move in with you guys for a little while until she gets settled.”
I’m already shaking my head before Julie stops speaking. No way. “She’s Paul’s sister. You’re the ones with the guest bedroom. Why can’t she stay with you?”
“Things are stressful enough for me with the wedding and trying to find a house.”
Paul and Julie are currently house hunting. Julie would like to start her married life in her own house. The problem is how much money they’ve saved. While they can afford a starter home in a nice neighborhood, it isn’t enough of a down payment for Julie’s dream house.
“I can’t stand having her live with us,” Julie continues. “You know how she is.”
“I do,” I say, but my helpfulness has been stretched as far as it can go. “But we don’t have room and I can pretty much guarantee none of the girls will agree.”
“There’s the bedroom in the basement.”
Our basement was finished in the late sixties and is in desperate need of an update. “She’s not going to want to stay there, and there’s no way she’s can use that bathroom.”
