by Kristi Rose
I say nothing, which is enough for him.
“This pretending in front of our friends is hard for me.” He pulls his sweater on and I know he’s about to leave. “Can you understand that?”
I nod and just like that, the minuscule wedge I shoved between us at Josie’s is now larger. Thanks to me. I want to ask him to stay, beg him to be patient with me. But this is far easier.
Chapter 30
I drive Pippa and myself to the airport. She’s bound for New York City and an exciting job and I’ve an appointment with one of my best clients. I’ve had several shipments of clothes delivered to her house to fit. My biggest regret is that I can’t press and hang them on padded hangers before she sees them. A practice I try to do every time.
But traveling to someone makes that more difficult. Or me more petulant because seeing things in a new way (change) might be difficult for me. A trait handed directly from Mum, who we left in her glory making and baking at the pub. Dad’s comfortable and happy watching telly all day. He’ll be released in another day and though Pippa wanted to stay for that, I’m making her leave. It’s time we all move forward.
After getting through security, we pause. Her flight leaves soon, boarding in fifteen minutes, and the time has come for us to part as our flights are in different concourses.
We face each other, no words needed.
“I love you.” She throws her arms around me.
I hug her close. “I love you more, you cheeky minx.”
“Ring me whenever, even if you don’t need anything,” she whispers in my ear.
“I’ll text you all the time. I promise. I’ll aim for those quiet coma pose moments, so put your phone on silent. You’ve been warned.”
We step back from each other, both of us with misty eyes.
“I can’t imagine why we’re crying. For the first time in three years you’re staying on the same continent.” I snap my fingers as if I’ve made a sudden discovery. “Perhaps that’s why I’m teary.”
“Go on,” she says then blows me a kiss.
“Don’t pick up any strangers at the airport,” I tell her. She’ll strike some pose or another and men will flock to her like pints of beer on football night.
“Sod off.” She laughs and turns, walking away.
I watch for a moment before I do the same, headed for my concourse.
“Jayne,” she calls down the long hallway.
I turn and lift my chin.
“Love rewards the brave,” she says, and blows me a second kiss before turning and skipping down the hall.
When I find my gate, I wait for boarding in one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs. The same ones they have at the hospital.
Over the past few weeks, I’ve watched Mum fight change at every step only to bow to it inevitably. How much easier would her days have been had she just admitted her fear and pushed forward?
How much easier would it be if I simply fell into this with Stacy? Rode it out? Let my naive heart get a taste of what it is that made Paisley run from her friend’s wedding and the nomadic Josie change her life and plant roots? I could take the same leap. Well, perhaps not the precise same but a smaller, similar one. I could go against everything I know, everything I’ve told myself and believe, and let the experience, the need, and desire take me forward.
It’ll hurt like nothing you’ve ever imagined.
Fear, a laser-hot emotion, spears my heart and spreads like a carcinogenic, feeding off old bitter feelings and memories.
No, to Be brave here means to cut him loose. Already, he’s been hurt by my actions. I’m not the kind of girl he wants and to pretend otherwise is cruel and unfair to both of us. As soon as I get home I need to cut things off.
It’s decided.
I pull my phone from my purse and pull up the messages app. We haven’t seen each other since that afternoon at my place. I like to think it’s because we’ve been busy, me getting my folks sorted and his in for a visit. Normally, I’d send a voice memo, but I fear I’ll be unable to disguise the quiver in my voice, so I text.
Haven’t seen you in a bit.
I can barely breathe.
Just busy.
I bite my lip. Be brave.
We should meet up. Talk.
Waiting feels like an eternity. Already my hands are sweaty and my heart races and I’m just asking him if he wants to get together. I try not to let that freak me out.
See Jayne struggle not to be a coward.
Finally a return text: Got conned into going to Disney with folks and this weekend is Port Canaveral. Maybe when everything settles down.
Right. No worries. Have a blast.
I’ll get you freeze-dried ice cream.
Sounds delish. Can’t wait.
Does he know? Could this be it?
I board, plot, and land in a haze. Thinking more about Pippa’s remark about love rewarding the brave and less about all that can go wrong (read: broken heart), but I’m determined to stick to my plan and Stacy was never part of that.
After a successful three hours with my client, her keeping all but one outfit, today looks very much like it’s going to be a success. Maybe not measured in the way some would but that’s how I’m calling it.
I’ve also scheduled some time with Davis, to talk about other properties. Lord knows I love the bookstore property, and Stacy’s words give me pause, but I’m not yet willing to let go entirely of my dream of a second (and third) shop. I’m determined to look at all the options before I change my plan. I may not be able to afford to buy the bookstore and the owners are unwilling to let it. So back to the drawing board as they say.
Davis and I arranged to meet at a different coffee shop in an area that I’m targeting. It’s not as hot as the bookstore shop but up and coming, much like me.
He’s waiting for me when I arrive in what I would call a dressed-to-impress suit. Casual, dark navy trousers, and coat but no tie. Instead he opted for a checkered navy and white shirt that he’s left open. The enormous amount of surprisingly dark blonde chest hair fighting to break free from beneath his shirt is startling. And repulsive. Who knew he was so hairy? There were no signs, not a single warning. No hairy hands or bushy brows. It goes to prove that first impressions can be deceiving.
Yes, I’m certain that meeting him is a lesson from the universe. Stacy, in all his threadbare clothes and well-worn trainers, is a sight to behold. Davis, though dressed impeccably, is not.
I want to laugh at myself for even considering Davis a viable option. In the past, men like him would have captured my attention, but now I see why they could never keep it. They’re two-dimensional. Oh, I’m sure to someone else they aren’t, but for me they now lack something. Authenticity perhaps?
I avert my gaze from him, afraid my new perception of him might show on my face.
“Whadya have?” the barista asks. “We got a fabulous blonde coffee just made fresh. It’s smooth.”
Instantly I think of Davis. “Earl grey latte, please.”
“You want any special syrup?”
I shake my head. I no longer have a taste for fancy. “Vanilla is fine.” I take the cup and make my way to Davis.
“Jayne, so wonderful to see you.” He reaches across the table to hug me.
I do a quick turn and offer a one-armed side hug, patting his shoulder. “You’ll forgive me but I might be coming down with something,” I lie. I slide into the seat next to him.
“You sure you want to look at these others? The bookstore is still available.” Davis turns toward me. He’s as smooth and easy as I remember, his tone soft and lulling. I instantly relax. He’d be perfect for one of those mediation CDs. He could lull me to sleep in minutes.
“Yes, I have to exhaust all options. You understand?”
“I do. I also understand why you turned down that silent partner. I admire that you want to do this solo.” His nose crinkles when he smiles.
“Thank y
ou.” I sip my tea.” If I do take on a partner—and I’m not saying I will—I want it to be the least amount of investment from their end as possible. You understand?”
He nods. “Shall we then? The three you selected are all within walking distance, if you’re up for it?”
“I am,” I say and show him my sensible ankle boots.
Davis pulls out my chair and walks behind me to the door.
“Ooh,” I say before I step outside. “Let me just check one thing.” I hand him my drink then dig through my purse to find a fortune cookie. Silly, I know. Hastily, I remove the wrapper and after slipping the thin piece of paper from the cookie, I throw everything away but the fortune.
“What does it say?” Davis asks.
I sigh heavily. “Okay to look at past and future. Just don’t stare.”
Davis looks bemused.
“Well, I don’t like it.” I withdraw another from my purse, doing the same to it as the first.
“And this one?” Do I detect laughter in his voice?
I shoot him a cross look before reading the next one. “You are cleverly disguised as responsible adult.”
Davis laughs but I can tell it’s an uncomfortable, forced laugh. As if he’s humoring me.
“They’re shit,” I say, tossing the fortune in the rubbish bin before taking my drink from him then marching out the door.
Davis guides me in the direction of the first building, an above-a-shop shop, and runs through the specifics. When we arrive, the store below is a bakery. Which won’t be a problem, as I like to serve food and drinks to my patrons. But it could be a problem if the bakery goes out of business and a dog groomer or butcher goes in. I like the space but give it the thumbs-down. Two blocks down and one across we start to make the U that is our path and stop at the second, narrow space, jammed between two other shops. The architectural detail is quaint and appealing but it’s obvious the owner took one large space and divided it into three smaller to capitalize their investment. I shake my head and we progress to the last.
It’s within a few blocks of where we started. Parking is close and convenient, as are a few trendy restaurants. This is for purchase where the others were to let and the price is higher than the number Stacy showed me that awful night but not overly so. The outside is charming red brick and it’s on the end. Next to it is a plastic surgeon’s office.
I cross my fingers, the most I dare to hope.
A large window is the centerpiece but it’s covered with butcher paper and the door, a solid wood eyesore, will have to go. Davis goes through the specs as he swings the door open.
A moldy, sulphuric earth smell assaults us and it sounds as if a fountain resides inside. Davis steps in first. There are no lights so we leave the door open and Davis pulls a small key-sized torch from his pocket and shines it around. He makes his way to the window and pulls a corner of butcher paper back and the answer to our question is revealed.
It appears that a water pipe has burst in the apartment above. Both sit empty, Davis explains, which means that it’s likely the floors are ruined upstairs as well as down here. Black mold climbs the walls.
“But the doctor’s office?” I point at the adjoining wall.
“I’m sure they are showing signs but may not have seen it yet. This place and the apartment above the doctor’s office taking majority of the hit.”
My only response is a sad sigh, because if one were to remove the mold it would have been a charming place and, though not the bookstore, a happy runner-up that I could have made work.
“I’m going over to the doctor’s office. Something to think about, Jayne, is that you could probably get this place for a steal considering the damage. Gut it and rebuild to your taste.” He gives me a knowing look. Knowing because it’s clear I hadn’t thought of that.
“How much of a steal?” I follow him outside and breathe in the fresh air.
Davis purses his lips, his head bobbing slightly. Following a thoughtful sigh, he says, “One in your budget would be my guess. However...” He drags out the pause. “The rebuilding will be expensive and extensive.” He takes my hand in his. “I know you don’t want a partner. But there is a woman on the list of potential partners I gave you that is interested in your business plan. Her philosophy is to support young women business owners and wanted me to approach you.”
“I could buy the building outright and she could help me do the construction?” I’m more running it through my head than asking a question.
“Precisely. Think it over on the plane. I’ll talk to these owners and see what I can work out.” Assumingly, he nods.
“Right. I can do that.” I squeeze his hand before letting go.
“Good. Good. Are you all right if I don’t put you in a cab? I’d like to get on this right away.” He waves to the room.
“I’m good,” I say, feeling lighter in my step than before, if that were possible.
I easily catch a cab, hit no traffic, and am back at the airport, where this morning I landed with sadness and hope and the day is ending with opportunity and a potentially golden future. Who wouldn’t feel that way when their dreams might be realized?
Chapter 31
Today is bang on the worst day I have had in recent memory and I don’t see how it can get any better. A shipment of Italian shoes lost somewhere between Italy and the United States, invoices that simply aren’t adding up, no matter how many times I put the numbers in the calculator, and my daft employee, who I should have sacked ages ago, used a box cutter to open a package from France with a special order dress. Consequently cutting the dress right down the center. The long overdue sacking happened, which then put Heather and I in such a tight bind with the timetable that I changed my store hours. Reduced them. Which means a loss in revenue. I’ve an advert placed and hope to find someone soon. Hopefully before Heather and I get desperate. Unfortunately, I’ve been talking to Mum about a similar option as they are struggling as well.
It’s been a week since Stacy and I texted. His parents extended their stay and with Pip gone and Dad out, I pulled more shifts at the pub. Even Josie’s worked a few. Time has been in short supply.
My highlight? Davis said the owners came in less than he expected, which means I wouldn’t be in for as much as I thought with the partner. The downsides are her list of co-owning necessities. Items such as sending monthly budgets for approval and a higher, faster payoff should the business show a profit less than twenty percent. Which, if you ask me, is worrisome. If profits decrease and more goes to her, how do I adjust so that I can try to raise profits as well as feed myself? Pippa says that’s when eating junk food will come in handy, as that’s all I’ll be able to afford. Instant noodles for me, she teased.
When I think back to Stacy’s comment about my twenty percent coming from the shop, that it rarely made much more than that, a slight tremor of fear courses through me. That and knowing I have forty-eight hours to decide about Atlanta.
And if that isn’t enough to keep me moving forward, I only have to look at the fortune cookie from lunch today which read: Every exit is an entrance to new experiences.
I pull into my driveway, give Stacy’s flat a quick glance, and find the lights are all out. His presence has become as familiar to me as everything else in my life. Just like my daily texts with Pippa, I look forward to my interactions with Stacy. How many times today did I want to text him about the chaos at the shop? But like an awful sugar addiction, I’ll have to suffer through the withdrawals.
Watch Jayne be in complete denial.
A movement in the park catches my eye and I squint against the evening sun. It’s Cordie. Sitting on the park’s swing and kicking up sand with her toe. Her head is resting against the chain, her gaze cast downward, away.
I hesitate the briefest of moments. I’m probably the last person she wants interrupting her playtime. Yet, there’s something so forlorn in her demeanor it makes my day seem inconsequential. This is not a ch
ild playing.
Leaving my handbag in the car, I make my way to her. She doesn’t notice me until say I her name. When she looks up at me her face is streaked from recently shed tears.
I scan the park. “Where’s your dad, love?” I ask. I see a teen a few picnic tables away. Her back is turned to us and she’s on the phone.
“He’s on a date.” Her voice is barely a whisper and she gives the sand another kick.
Air crystallizes and freezes in my lungs, making breathing impossible.
A date?
“A date?” I don’t realize I’ve said it until I hear the words.
“With Jill.”
And just like that, in the second it takes to say the words I’ve been replaced, am no longer chosen, my heart and soul shatter into large deceiving chunks. Pieces big enough I think I might be able to paste them back together but they no longer fit together as one because who they used to fit is suddenly gone. Replaced.
Cordie sniffs and I’m brought away from my pain and back to hers. There will be plenty of time to wallow in a tub with cupcakes and tears but right now focusing on her provides me with a purpose and distraction I desperately need.
“Well, who are you here with?” I squat down so I can look at her. I try not to think of Stacy being on a date. When I see the sadness pulling her face downward, I’m able to put it aside.
Cordie looks toward the teen sitting on the top of a picnic table. “That’s my babysitter. She was supposed to order pizza but she pocketed the cash and made me a hot dog instead.”
I sit back on the grass and process this. Regardless of whatever it is going on between her father and me, I don’t want to leave her alone with this babysitter. Digging in my skirt pocket, I pull out a fortune cookie still in the wrapper.
“Want to know your fortune?” I hold the cookie out on my palm. She stops kicking long enough to take it.
She removes the cellophane, hands it back to me, and I tuck it into my purse. The state of Heather’s purse is now clearly understood. Cordie cracks it into two pieces and offers me one. Of course I take it. After sliding the fortune from her half, she plops the cookie in her mouth and holds the tiny strip out for me to read. Her lips lift into a grin.
