New Uses For Old Boyfriends

by Beth Kendrick

  “Listen to what you’re proposing.” Daphne scoffed. “You’re proposing that you and I work all day, every day, for free—”

  “For profit,” Lila reminded her.

  “And sell off the things that are most precious to me in this world? And hope that by some miracle, we’ll make enough money in a few months to undo years of financial catastrophe?”

  “Well, it doesn’t sound very realistic when you put it like that.” Lila sighed and rubbed the small of her back. “But I don’t see what other choice we have. Plus, we’ll get an online component up and running. But if we have a storefront, we can get foot traffic and word of mouth.” She thought about the recently divorced Bostonian who’d coveted the antique hair comb.

  Daphne looked even more defeated. “Lila, I’m proud of what you’re trying to do here. It’s very independent of you. But if I learned anything from what happened with your father, it’s that it’s easy to get overextended with a business. And I don’t mean to be harsh, but when you were on the shopping channel, you had producers to run everything behind the scenes. You had hair and makeup people to help you look good. You had an agent to negotiate your contracts. All you really had to do was show up and talk about linens and holiday china sets.”

  Lila flinched. “That’s not meant to be harsh?”

  “We’re in way over our heads here and I don’t want you to feel bad if we fail.”

  Lila put the paintbrush down. “Do you have any better ideas?”

  “No.”

  “Then let’s choose a paint color and move on. Daylight’s burning.”

  “How can you expect me to choose a paint color when I’m about to lose everything?” Daphne’s lips trembled as she folded her hands, the picture of martyred motherhood. “My clothing collection is my life’s work. I’ve curated it like a museum exhibit and you want me to gamble it away on some reckless whim.”

  And Lila finally snapped. “Mom, we’ve been over this. Do you want to keep the house?”

  “You know I do.”

  Lila moved in to confront her mother. “Then you have a choice. Which would you rather hang on to: your house or a bunch of old clothes you haven’t even looked at in decades?”

  “How can I possibly make that choice?” Daphne’s trickle of tears turned into full-blown sobbing. “That’s like asking me which hand I’d rather cut off.”

  “Labrador Blue it is.” Lila pressed the round lid back onto the sample paint can, then headed to the tiny bathroom to wash her hands.

  When she yanked on the ancient metal faucet lever, the entire spout tumbled into the sink, cracking the white porcelain. Before she could register what had happened, water sprayed everywhere—up to the ceilings, all over the walls.

  She threw up her hands in a futile attempt to shield herself from the cold water. Out of years of habit, her first instinct was to call for her mother.

  Daphne took one look at the geyser and started to panic. “What should we do? Who should we call?”

  “Find a wrench!” Lila exclaimed. “The crew left some tools in the main room. Look in the corner by the ladder.”

  Daphne didn’t move. “I’m calling Ben.”

  “You can’t call Ben—he’s in Boston wooing his ex-girlfriend.”

  “He’s what?”

  “Mom!” Lila clapped her hands. “Wrench! Now!”

  “Well, call his father, then. Call the contractor. We have to call someone!”

  “I’m calling you. Go grab a wrench and jump in here.”

  To her amazement, her mother did just that.

  After a minute of frenzied searching, Daphne approached the faucet, holding a pipe wrench as though it were a weapon. Water continued to splash the walls.

  “Your father always used to say, ‘righty tighty, lefty loosey.’”

  “Sounds legit. You try that and I’ll be over here, looking up plumbing tutorials on YouTube.” Lila gagged as a spout of water went up her nostril.

  Daphne commenced hand-to-hand combat with the sink. “Don’t get my phone wet!”

  “Don’t backseat Google.”

  “I can’t do this!” Daphne shrieked.

  Lila frowned down at an instructional plumbing clip with nausea-inducing camerawork. “Okay, tighten that scrolly thing on the nubby thing and twist it toward the other thing.”

  “Got it.” Daphne twisted the wrench. “Nothing’s happening!”

  “Twist again.”

  “Nothing’s . . . Wait.” Daphne gasped. “Something’s happening.” As she maneuvered the wrench, the geyser receded to a gush, which receded to a trickle, which receded to a tiny drip, drip, drip.

  Lila put the phone aside and started jumping for joy. “You did it.”

  “I did it!” Daphne started jumping, too. “Careful, the floor’s slippery.”

  “We did it.” Lila hugged her mother, then gazed around at the sodden drywall and dismembered sink handle. “I don’t think they’ll be painting this afternoon.”

  “Probably not.” Daphne sounded positively giddy. “But lo and behold! I can plumb!”

  “Watch out, water heaters of the world.” Lila’s grin faded as she continued to survey the damage. “We should probably call Ben’s office and tell them they’ll need to send over a Shop-Vac and an ark.”

  “I’ll call.” Daphne reclaimed her phone with an air of calm capability. “In case they need someone to talk them through exactly what happened.”

  Lila gave her mother another hug. “Go for it.”

  They were drenched, they were desperate, but they were in this together.

  * * *

  “. . . So that’s why I look like crap and I’m drinking heavily on a weeknight,” Lila concluded later that night as she pulled up a chair at the Whinery. She knew she shouldn’t be out in public with her sweaty face, messy hair, and smudged shirt, but she was too exhausted to care.

  Summer placed a glass of Tempranillo on the bar top. “You’ve earned this. Where’s your mom? She’s earned one, too.”

  “She went home and passed out early. Her nerves are shot, but she’s really proud of herself. I’m proud of her, too. Wait, does that sound condescending?”

  “Nah, you’re just stating the facts,” Summer said.

  Lila waved to Jenna, who was on the other side of the bar chatting with Tyler about various wine distribution issues.

  As soon as he noticed Lila, Tyler ducked his head and scurried away.

  Lila returned her attention to Summer. “It’s kind of funny that after years of obsessing about shoes and makeup and hair, we’re bonding over pipe wrenches and broken faucets.”

  “Shoes, makeup, and hair can only get you so far.”

  “Actual and factual. My mom even said something about helping to paint the store. I’ve never seen her paint anything but her toenails. She’s finally getting on board with Unfinished Business.”

  Summer held up her hands as though framing a camera shot. “A mother, a daughter, a pipe wrench, and a pipe dream.”

  “We should put that on our business cards. It was so awesome of Pauline to give us all those clothes, and so awesome of you to arrange it. I don’t remember this town being so . . .”

  “Awesome?”

  Lila laughed. “Yeah. Being an adult here is different from being a teenager. When you’re in high school, all you can think about is there’s nothing to do and nowhere to go, and the nearest movie theater is like a forty-five-minute drive.”

  “That’s why I’m encouraging Ingrid to go to college out of state.” Summer nodded crisply. “She needs culture and adventure.”

  “And you want her to stop harping on the fact that you’re living in sin with her brother.”

  “That, too. The girl is relentless. And crafty! She’ll stop at nothing to get her way.”

  “So unlike yourself.”<
br />
  Summer tossed her choppy platinum hair. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  * * *

  After two glasses of wine, Lila knew she was too tipsy to drive home, so she decided to go for a stroll on the boardwalk. On the way out the door, she noticed a patch of bright red in the Ex Box.

  “Ooh.” She reached in and pulled out a bold, almost garishly patterned dress that was so long, flat, and square, it looked like a paper doll cutout. “Do you know what this is?”

  “Fugly?” Jenna ventured.

  “It’s a vintage Tori Richard in mint condition.” Lila pointed out the label, which specified that the dress had been made in Honolulu. “My mom loves Tori Richard. This thing has to be twenty or thirty years old. Do you mind if I snag it?”

  Jenna lined up a row of glasses on the bar. “By all means, get that thing out of here before it blinds us all.”

  “It is a little . . . bright,” Lila conceded. “I’ll give you that. But I think it has potential. What if I sewed up the back, opened up the front, lopped off the hem, added some shape, and turned it into a cute little jacket?”

  Jenna looked impressed as she poured pink champagne cocktails into the glasses. “You know how to do all that?”

  “Well, no, not personally.” Lila ran her fingers over the patterned patches of red and black and white. “I have people for that.”

  “You have people,” Jenna repeated, looking amused.

  “Yes, I do. I have people, and I have wine, and I have a plan.” She excused herself, traipsed out to the sidewalk, and dialed her phone.

  “What now?” was how Malcolm answered her call.

  “I need you,” she informed him loftily.

  He waited a beat. “Are you drunk?”

  “Kind of. Listen, I’m at the Whinery and I need a consult. Any chance your nightly marathon will bring you this way?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, well, any chance your car will bring you this way? I’d come to you, but, you know. The whole drunk thing.”

  His side of the line went dead silent.

  “Hello?” she said. “Is this thing on?”

  “What’s the magic word?” he said.

  She screwed up her face and racked her brain. “‘Proliferation’?”

  “Impressive. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  Ten minutes later, Malcolm strode into the bar, all rugged and hard-bitten in a gray-on-gray ensemble of cargo pants and a T-shirt.

  Lila held up the Tori Richard dress and waved it like a flag. “Just the man I was looking for.”

  Malcolm glanced at Jenna, completely poker-faced. “Is she sauced?”

  Lila practically skipped across the room and pressed the dress into his hands. “Can you make this into a jacket?”

  Jenna laughed and told Malcolm, “She’s sauced.” To Lila, she said, “Honey, when you start asking Malcolm Toth to do your tailoring, it’s time to call it a night.”

  Summer, Jenna, and Malcolm all shared an indulgent chuckle.

  Lila gasped and spun around on her heel. “Don’t you dare laugh at me! I will have you know—”

  “Time to go, chief.” Malcolm slung an arm around her shoulders and hauled her out to the sidewalk.

  “Oof.” She shook him off, nearly tripping over the curb in the process. “Is it necessary to be so rough?”

  “Yes.” He shook his head in disgust. “Because someone can’t keep her mouth shut after a few sips of wine.”

  “Be fair—I had two glasses, and they were generous pours.”

  “Wow. You must have won all the drinking contests in college.” He ushered her down around the side of the building to the parking lot and opened the door to his Jeep. “Get in the car. You’re going home.”

  She complied, blowing out a loud, huffy breath. “Fine. But don’t ever call me ‘chief’ again.”

  “Buckle your seat belt, please.” He got into the driver’s seat with an air of resignation.

  She folded her arms and crossed her legs. “I will consider complying with that request when you ask politely.”

  He reached across the passenger side and buckled her in himself. Then he pried the Tori Richard dress out of her hands, tossed it behind his seat, and started the car.

  Lila wrenched her neck as she tried to follow the garment’s trajectory. “Ow. Hey, can you do something with that dress? Can you turn it into a jacket or something?”

  He looked offended she’d even ask. “You know I can.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Okay, then, will you?”

  “You know I will.” He turned onto Main Street and headed for her neighborhood. “But we don’t talk about it, remember?”

  “Right.” She tried to look very serious. “Our dirty little secret.”

  “Right.”

  She let her sensibilities segue back into tipsy. “Speaking of dirty . . .”

  He waited.

  “I fixed a faucet today. Well, that’s not entirely true—my mother fixed a faucet while I watched YouTube videos and yelled instructions. I’ve never done that before.” She lowered her voice and confided, “I’ve never called a boy, either.”

  “Ever?”

  She shook her head. “It’s desperate. Unseemly.”

  He nodded.

  “But I called you tonight.” She watched his reaction closely. “And the day we met out by the Dumpster.”

  “Glad I could be part of your milestone.” He pulled up in front of her house and turned off the ignition.

  She hopped out of the car, humming a happy tune. “I have a good feeling about all this. Things are really starting to turn around.”

  He climbed out of the driver’s side and walked her to the front door. “Don’t forget to drink some water before you pass out tonight.”

  She gestured grandly toward the ocean. “So I guess our date thing or whatever is off.”

  He stopped walking. “What? Why?”

  “Because I’m all . . .” She indicated her sloppy ponytail and paint-spattered clothes and bare face. “And also, I called you. Twice.”

  He started walking again. “Are you trying to get out of it?”

  She shook her head so vehemently, she nearly lost her balance. “No.”

  “Good.” He steadied her with a hand on her shoulder. “Because as soon as I fix your dress, we’re going.”

  “But I don’t even have lipstick on,” she reminded him.

  He looked at her lips.

  “And I’m needy and desperate.”

  He kept looking at her lips.

  “And I look like this.” She threw out her arms.

  They had reached the front door. He made his stand on the welcome mat and held her face in both his hands. “Lila. It’s not about what you look like.”

  She wrapped her fingers around his wrists. “Then what is it about?”

  The door opened, and they both dropped their arms.

  “Lila Jane, there you are. I’ve been—” Daphne broke off as she noticed the tall, broad-shouldered man on her porch. “Well, hello.”

  “Hi, Mrs. Alders. I’m Malcolm Toth.” He offered a handshake and a disarming smile.

  “Malcolm, of course. How are you?” She beamed. “It’s been a while, but I never forget a face.”

  “I’m fine, thank you.” He was working a whole officer-and-a-gentleman routine that left Lila stunned and a little tingly.

  Daphne glanced from Lila to Malcolm. “You brought Lila home from a date once, didn’t you?”

  “Mother!” Lila groaned.

  “Didn’t you?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He inclined his head. “Lila’s sophomore year.”

  “I thought so. I have an excellent memory.”

  “Stop talking,” Lila hissed.

  “
Don’t be rude to your mother,” Malcolm said.

  Lila shot him a death glare.

  Daphne glowed. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll be finished with that project we talked about in a few days.” Malcolm turned and headed back to his truck. “Don’t forget to hydrate.”

  “Well, well, well. Your ex-boyfriends just get better and better with age,” Daphne said to Lila.

  “Good night.” Lila ducked inside and retreated into the foyer.

  Daphne stayed right on her heels. “I’ll bring you a bottle of water. What a nice young man.”

  Lila snorted. “He’s not that nice.”

  “He drove you home, he told you to drink water. . . .”

  “He used to be a military SWAT team leader, Mom. His own sister said he could kill someone with a paper clip.”

  Daphne fanned her face. “That just makes him even more attractive.”

  Lila dashed up the steps, swaying a bit on her feet. “See you in the morning.”

  “We’ll talk more about Malcolm then.”

  Lila looked over her shoulder at her man-eating, ex-model mother. “You don’t want to hear what I have to say about him.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because in addition to hanging out with him looking like this, I call him. He never calls me; I always call him.”

  Daphne looked queasy. “Oh, dear.”

  “And that’s not all. I show up at his house unannounced. Late at night.”

  Daphne clutched the balustrade for support.

  Lila delivered the coup de grâce. “And I badgered him into meeting me at a gas station Dumpster in the middle of the afternoon.”

  “Why?” Daphne’s voice was barely audible. “Why would you do such a thing?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say.” Lila faced forward and continued up to the second floor.

  “Well, if you’ve been acting like that and he still wants to see you,” her mother yelled after her, “that means he only wants one thing.”

  Lila did a little shimmy as she rounded the corner into her room. “Good.”

  “Excuse me?!”

  “I said, ‘Good night’!”

  chapter 20

  True to their word, Ben’s work crew pulled off a miracle and finished renovating the storefront in a matter of days. They painted the walls, replaced the worn carpeting with hardwood, and made sure all the faucet handles were secure. Then Daphne took charge of the decorating, arranging the display cases and commissioning a local artist to paint “Unfinished Business” on the building’s exterior.