Now all I have to do is shake off my conflicted feelings toward Zach and step into my new life. That shouldn’t be too hard, right?
Chapter Thirty
I’ve managed to avoid Zach for most of the week. I skipped the band concert because Faye was feeling poorly, and I’ve avoided the sewing machine factory by staying home to do research and create a budget for Emmeline’s. As the store is the uncles’ first foray into retail, I want them to feel confident that I know what I’m talking about and I’m not squandering their money.
I’m sticking with the idea of a gourmet/kitchenware shop that has gift items scattered about. I’ve also contacted several local artisans and have worked out a consignment agreement with them. They’ll put their merchandise in the store and will get paid once it sells. In addition to a local soap maker, and a potter who specializes in one-of-a-kind vases and pitchers, Amelia is going to stock her jewelry and Davis is going to supply his armoires. We’ll use them as display cases, but we’ll sell them as well.
I’m meeting with Jed and Jesse later this afternoon to present my concept to them. First, Mama and I are driving to Millersville to see Granny Selia this morning. I’ve been warned to expect the worst, but I still take pains to look as nice as possible. Granny always appreciated a lady looking like a lady.
On the ride over, Mama says, “It’s been weeks since Selia has spoken to any of us. We go to visit, and she just stares off into space like we’re not even there. It’s plumb heart-breaking.”
“I haven’t even seen her since before I got pregnant with Faye.” I feel horrible about that, too.
We’re quiet for the rest of the twenty-minute drive, both lost in our thoughts. When we finally arrive, Mama pulls into a spot in the nursing home parking lot right next to a very familiar-looking vehicle. Crabs and crackers, what in the world is Zachary Grant doing here?
I ask Mama about it and she says, “Zach’s Granny had a stroke last year, and she was admitted right after being released from the hospital. I’m not sure she’ll ever get out of here.”
This is the nicest nursing home in a sixty-mile radius of Creek Water, so I shouldn’t be surprised there are other people we know here, but still, the whole thought of running into Zach gives me the heebie-jeebies. I can’t help but feel a renewed something toward him. I’m not sure it’s interest, as he’s not treated me well enough to deserve my notice—like telling Shelby straight out he wasn’t interested in me— but still it’s something too close to that for my comfort. What’s wrong with me?
We check in at the reception desk and find out that Granny is not herself today. She’s accused the doctor of keeping her against her will and has threatened to have his medical license revoked if she isn’t driven home immediately. Mama looks sad and asks, “Should we come back another time?”
“Stay,” the nurse answers. “She might actually talk to you today.”
We’re ushered down a long corridor, past a gaming room and the cafeteria. It’s a nice environment that doesn’t reek of disinfectant or illness. I’m not sure how they managed that, but it might have something to do with the giant flower arrangements everywhere.
The nurse knocks on Granny’s door and greets, “Mrs. Frothingham, you have visitors.”
I hear her before I see her, “Are those damn peasants back?”
I catch the nurse’s eye and she shrugs but looks unsurprised. Apparently, this behavior isn’t unusual for Granny even though it’s not exactly normal.
She says, “No, ma’am, I have your family with me.”
“What family? My family was murdered during the Bolshevik Revolution back in nineteen eighteen.”
The nurse turns to us. “That means she’s Anastasia Romanov right now.”
Mama pats my arm. “She changes identity a lot. She’s been Mary Queen of Scotts, Josephine Bonaparte, and Nefertiti, as well.”
“I see.” Which I don’t. “Is she always royalty?” I ask.
“Always,” Mama confirms. “Unless, of course, she’s herself, which she hasn’t been in ages.”
The nurse says, “It’s a good sign, actually. We’d much rather have her talking and interacting, than just lying around like a vegetable.”
Granny is sitting up in her bed with a flowerpot on her head when we walk in. Luckily, it appears to have been emptied before she put it on. She smiles at us brightly and tells the nurse, “We’ll take our tea in the solarium.”
The nurse fusses around with the room, and asks if she can polish Granny’s crown, and then curtsies to her and backs out of the room holding the flowerpot.
Mama greets, “Mama Selia, how are you?”
“Who is this Mama Selia?” Granny asks imperiously. “Is she some kind of herbalist or healer, voodoo priestess maybe?”
I approach the side of her bed and sit down next to her. I say, “I’m so happy to see you again, Granny.”
She doesn’t chastise me for calling her Granny, instead she stares at me for a long moment like she might remember me from somewhere. I forge on, “I brought my baby, Faye, to meet you.” I lift the baby carrier onto the bed.
Her eyes brighten. “Faye is a beautiful name. I once had a good friend named Faye. We betrothed our children to each other.”
Mama jumps like she’s just received a jolt from the business end of a cattle prod. She says, “Faye was my mama.”
Granny looks confused, “No, dear, Faye was a villager in the town where I’m from. I don’t even know who you are.” Mama looks defeated.
I say, “I named my baby after your friend Faye. She was my granny, too.”
Granny creases her brow up as if to get a better look at me and tears start to form in her eyes. In a much smaller voice, she asks, “Emmeline, is that you?”
Mama drops into a chair by the door like a load of bricks.
“It’s me, Granny.” I don’t know how, but my grandmother has come back to us. I suspect it’ll be for a very short time, so I want to make the most of it. I kiss her before pulling Faye out of her contraption. Then, I hand my daughter over to the matriarch of my family.
Granny takes her and immediately breathes in the top of her head. She dreamily says, “She looks like Reed.”
I turn to Mama, who has come over and joined me, and see tenderness. Selia looks up at her daughter-in-law and says, “Gracie, doesn’t she look just like Reed?”
Mama chokes down a sob and says, “Yes, ma’am, she most certainly does.”
Granny asks, “Who’s her daddy?”
Oh lord, I hadn’t thought about how I’d answer that question, as I didn’t expect her to remember me at all. I answer, “He’s at home,” at the same time there’s a knock on the door.
Mama walks over to answer it, and wouldn’t you know it’s none other than Zach Grant standing there with a big bouquet of flowers. He looks shocked to see us, but he comes in anyway. He bows to Granny and says, “Your Highness, I’ve brought flowers from the royal gardens.”
Granny laughs, “Zach, boy, what are you going on about? Come here and give me some sugar.”
Zach looks startled at Mama. “Mrs. Frothingham, how are you today?” He willingly follows her directive. Then he looks at me and says, “Emmie.”
Granny claps her hands together and declares, “You married my Emmie! I thought Faye looked just like Reed, but now I see she looks just like her daddy.”
Oh, dear heavens. I try to correct her and say, “No, Granny …” but Zach wraps his arm around me and says, “I sure did. How could I help but marry the prettiest girl in Creek Water?”
I decide to let his pronouncement ride. After all, there’s no point in upsetting my grandmother when I don’t even know how long we’ll have her. So, I nod and say, “It was a beautiful wedding. You would have loved it.”
Granny smiles wistfully and holds Emmie close. She whispers, “This is the most precious gift ever.”
Then there’s another knock on the door and the nurse comes in carrying a tray of teacups. She curtsies and an
nounces, “I’ve brought the tea, ma’am.”
Like the flick of a switch, Granny looks up at us like she doesn’t know who we are, waves her hand, and dismisses us. “That will be all,” she says as she holds Faye out for me to take.
Chapter Thirty-One
I’m shaken up as I put Faye back into her carrier. I want to throw myself into my grandmother’s arms and beg her to remember me again, but the look on her face says that would be the wrong thing to do. I make a silent vow to come back often on the chance that we’ll have some quality time together—even if I have to gain her friendship by pretending to be her maid.
Mama and Zach walk out of the room first, but it takes me longer. I dawdle a bit, hoping Granny might pop back into her skin, even if only long enough share a knowing smile. I eventually accept she won’t be reappearing today and stop at the door to stare at the woman who taught me how to properly carve a turkey, cut a watermelon, and slice a loaf of fresh-baked bread. Granny seemed to have a thing for cutting stuff up—right now she’s doing a number on my heart.
In the hallway, Mama takes the baby carrier from me with wide-eyed wonder and says, “That was plain amazing. You brought her home, Emmie.”
I try to smile but my mouth doesn’t want to comply. Instead, I change the subject and ask Zach, “How’s your grandma doing?”
He shakes his head. “Not good. The doctors say she’s not going to get any better.”
I almost ask if Mama and I should stop in to say hello to her, what with him apparently being a regular visitor to my granny, but his body language suggests he’s ready to leave. So, I inquire, “Do you see Granny Frothingham every time you’re here?”
He nods. “I do.” But he doesn’t say anything else.
Mama interjects, “You know Selia was good friends with Zach’s grandma.” I think of how sad it is that these good friends are right down the hall from each other but aren’t able to enjoy one another.
I’m so full of emotion I’m not sure how to respond to Mama’s comment. Plus, I’m still madder than a wet hen at Zach’s previous treatment of me. One minute he seems ready to declare his attraction, and the next he’s swatting me away like I’m an aggressive mosquito. Then I overheard him tell Shelby there’s nothing going on between us. Boy, he’s got that right. Although it seems that even Shelby knows I turned him down in high school, so more and more I’m thinking that’s where his animosity toward me stems. I just don’t know what to say at this late date to make things right. Ultimately, I say, “Thank you for being so nice to Granny. I’m sure she appreciates it.”
“That’s the first time she’s recognized me. No matter who she thought she was, she’s consistently thought I was the gardener.”
“Do you always bring her flowers?” I ask.
“I do.”
My heart flops around my chest like a newly caught fish. Why would Zach do that, and for so long even? What’s the payoff for him unless he truly is a super nice guy? But if that’s who he is, why is he so dang judgmental toward me about being a single mama? It doesn’t add up.
Once we get to the parking lot, Mama says, “I want to stop by the nursery down the road to pick up some new flowers for my window boxes.”
“Can you do it some other time, Mama? I’m meeting the uncles for my presentation.”
She doesn’t look pleased, but says, “I guess.”
“I’m heading to the factory,” Zach says. “Why don’t you drive with me, Emmie?”
“Thank, you Zach,” Mama responds before I have a chance to decline his offer. Now there’s no way to get out of it without looking ungracious and raising Mama’s suspicions that there’s more going on between me and Zach than I’ve copped to. Crap.
I kiss Faye on the top of her head and tell Mama, “I should be home by three to feed her.”
“Whenever. The freezer is full of breast milk, so you don’t need to rush.” Mama waves her hand as we drift toward Zach’s car.
Like a gentleman, Zach opens the passenger door for me before walking around the car to get in himself. The radio blares Jakob Dylan’s “One Headlight.” He turns it down while explaining, “I picked up the CD at that used record store in town after hearing it on the radio the other night.”
That would be the night of our business dinner/date. I figure I’ve got nothing to lose, so I ask, “What happened to that gal you told me about after we had frozen yogurt? You know, the one you said you had your eye on?”
Zach’s foot hits the gas and the car accelerates as if it’s trying to pick up enough speed to fly us back to town. He finally answers, “Turns out she doesn’t share my feelings.”
“How in the world did you come to that conclusion?” I demand. I mean if it was me he was talking about, and I’m pretty certain it was, I did nothing but encourage him.
“It doesn’t matter how I figured it out,” he says. “I just did.”
“Did you tell her how you feel?” I ask ruthlessly. He shakes his head, so I continue, “You might want to do that. You’ll never know her true feelings until you come right out and ask her.”
“I’m not sure my heart could take the rejection,” he responds.
For the love of god man, get your head out of the past! “What if she doesn’t reject you? Isn’t it worth the effort of finding out?”
Of course, if it is me, I’m tempted to reject him for treating me so poorly regarding my single mother status, but then again, I might just go ahead and give him a chance. I guess we won’t know until he mans up and says something.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Zach pulls up in front of the building, unlocks the car doors, then jumps out to open my door. As I emerge, he says, “I guess I’ll see you later,” and then he speeds off before I can reply.
The uncles are already sitting at the table we’ve put in the space designated for Emmeline’s. They’re drinking coffee and fiddling on their phones. I don’t sit down. Instead, I stand in front of them and announce, “I can open the store I want for seventy-five thousand dollars.”
“What happened to the hundred thousand?” Jesse asks.
“I used my know-how and ingenuity and brought the price down.” I declare, “I don’t want to open a card shop. People don’t send cards like they did twenty years ago. They text memes for free. I want to open a store this community needs. One that has legs to grow on and can withstand the test of time.”
Jed asks, “And that’s your gourmet kitchen shop?”
“A gift shop with a lot of gourmet and kitchen items. I don’t think Creek Water has the demographic to pull off something like Silver Spoons, but I think we can certainly benefit from incorporating those kinds of things. Mostly, we’re going to offer quality merchandise that spans from a mid to high price point, interspersed with one-of-a-kind objects d’art.”
“And you can do that for seventy-five?” Jesse asks.
“I can. But just as importantly, I can do it in three months. I can be ready for a fall opening.”
Jed nods his head enthusiastically. “We’ve been targeting September. We’d like to have an official grand-opening by mid-November. That ought to give everyone enough time to work out the kinks while still giving businesses plenty of time to benefit from Christmas sales.”
“When do you think the second and third floors will be up and running?” I ask.
Jesse answers, “Beau is ready to move his company over as soon as his new space is set up—we’d like that to happen by the end of July. Then he’ll start renting out the office space. We figure the condos won’t realistically be ready to start selling until we have the model set up. We’re hoping to have that done sometime in October. We’ll sell the other spaces unfinished. That way, the new owners will be able to choose their own countertops, fixtures, etc.”
I’m smiling so big I’m pretty sure they can count my molars. “This is super exciting, isn’t it?
“Yes, ma’am, it sure is,” Jed says. “Now how ’bout we hit the third floor and pick out the condo we
plan to use for the model?”
Jesse picks up his phone. “I’ll have Zach meet us up there.”
When we step off the elevator, Zach’s holding an armload of cardboard cylinders and says, “I think I’ve picked the perfect spot. Follow me.”
He leads us to the side of the building that overlooks the river. He’s taped off a large space in yellow and black construction tape. After dropping the cylinders on the table, he grabs one of the tubes and pulls out architectural plans. He unrolls them and lays them out for us to see. “I think the model we use should be one of the two-bedroom, two bath condos. If we shoot for the biggest and best and use the three-bedroom, buyers will feel let down if they can only afford the one-bedroom. But if we go with our mid-sized unit then it won’t be that big of a stretch for buyers to imagine either the one or three-bedroom setup, depending on their budgets.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Jed says. “Plus, this view is going to knock their socks off.”
I suggest, “We need to reach out to some of the bigger newspapers and decorating magazines in the area and send out press kits.” I ask Zach, “How soon can we get some color three-D drawings of these plans so that I can start setting things up?”
“I could have simple drawings by the end of the week. It would be a better use of time and resources to pick up some interior decorating software. We can plug in our dimensions and details and design the space in a way that will really catch people’s eye.”
“Can you and Emmie take care of that?” Jesse asks.
Zach looks like he wishes he’d kept his mouth shut, but ultimately answers, “Sure thing.” He walks us through the rest of the space where he’s broken down the individual units for us to see.
When the tour ends, Jed asks, “How soon will you be done designing the space so we can get a model?”
“By next week,” Zach tells him. “We’ve got all the infrastructure in place. I’d like to finish up the second floor first and then we can go full-steam up here.”
I smile at Zach and suggest, “Why don’t we meet tomorrow morning and get to work on the mock-ups? Most publications do their layouts three months in advance, so I want to get going on this as soon as possible.”
The Event Page 11
