“Fine with me,” I tell Jakob. His eyes catch mine. “Thank you,” I say, so low he has to lean in to hear me.
“For what?” he asks.
I glance at the pastries and at Gus, who is enthusiastically stuffing the rest of the bear claw into his mouth as he waits to help Jakob. “For all of it,” I tell him.
He nods once, then motions to Gus. “Come on, pal. Let’s get the toolbox.”
The entire store is a beehive of activity—packing, labeling, dismantling shelves when they are empty. Hilda is unfolding cardboard boxes and taping them. Sebastian is delivering empty boxes for the teams who are packing up various areas of the store. Barista Justin and our mailman George are filling boxes of candy in a flurry of activity. Mary Beth and a few of her nail salon employees from the Nail Boat are tackling packing up the wall of bubble gum. We have over a hundred types of chewing gum. Walt, Jakob, and Gus are taking apart the shelves as they are emptied.
The whole shop is humming with happy energy, and people are working fast. I thought this might take us all night, but at this rate, the room will be cleared within a couple of hours.
I look around me, overwhelmed with a feeling of humble gratitude for this community that turned up tonight to help us when we needed it most. Spontaneously, I slide open the glass display case of fudge.
“Free fudge for everyone!” I call out. “Come and get it!”
A cheer goes up from the crowd and people peel off from their work groups to come grab their favorite flavor. I talk to each of them, thanking them and doling out generous portions of fudge. Walt comes up to get his fudge, and I give him the biggest slice. He takes a look at Mr. Butters’s Mariners jersey and breaks into a disbelieving guffaw.
“That dog is ridiculous,” he states matter-of-factly. “At least dress him in a good baseball team’s jersey.”
Mom overhears him and bristles. “Bert loved the Mariners.”
Walt shrugs. “Bert didn’t know squat about good baseball. You come with me and I’ll take you to a real baseball game. Wrigley Field, now that’s baseball. I’ll even buy you a hot dog.”
“Is Walt asking your mom on a date?” Dani asks in a stage whisper, sidling up to me.
“I think it’s more taunting than asking,” I reply, watching with interest.
Mom’s color is high and she lifts her chin. “No, thank you,” she says politely, her tone chilly.
Walt shrugs. “Suit yourself. But it’s a shame for a fine woman like you to waste her life dressing up a dog like that. Bert would have wanted more for you, Gwen, and you know it.”
Mom looks stunned. Her mouth opens and closes. “Well, I never…” she says finally.
Walt eyes Mr. Butters again and shakes his head. “You let me know if you ever change your mind. The offer still stands,” he says, and then he goes back to dismantling shelves.
Chapter 18
I’m sitting on the worn carpet in the middle of the empty storefront the next morning, feeling tired but peaceful and like I really need another cup of coffee. I’m not doing anything, just sitting in the room, feeling the emptiness of the space, reliving the echoes of so many days and years of life here. Last night was a whirlwind. We laughed, yelled, packed, and sang along to Britney and Madonna and ate all the Danishes and pizza and fudge. By ten the store was empty, the last shelf taken apart, the last box of Root Beer Barrels and Mike and Ikes carried out to Dani’s giant Suburban to be stashed in the storage space we rented temporarily until the store is ready to reopen.
I look around the storefront now. Uncluttered, it really is spacious. Unfortunately, when we put all the shelves and candy back in, it will go back to feeling cluttered and a little claustrophobic. For a brief instant I wonder if we should take this opportunity to renovate it, to try to modernize the shop, but in the next instantI dismiss the idea. If we do that, I won’t have enough capital to open my chocolate shop.
Already I’m nervous about how much the repairs are going to eat into the money Mom offered me. Every day I’m watching it drain away a little more. I sigh and rub my temples. I really need some more coffee. I think of Henry’s offer to help me if I want to relocate farther afield. It’s tempting, but something holds me back. I just don’t think it would work.
A knock on the big plate glass window startles me, and I shriek and jump to my feet. Jakob is peering in the window, two cups of coffee from Byrdie’s in his hands. I open the door for him, and he comes in.
“It’s weird to see this place so empty,” he comments, handing me a cup of coffee. I take a sip. It’s a hometown honey latte, made extra sweet the way I like it.
“How did you know?” I ask, lifting the cup in a question. “And thanks. I needed this today.”
He waves away the gratitude. “I asked Justin what you normally get. Extra pump of honey, huh?”
“Hazard of growing up in a candy store. I was born with a sweet tooth,” I tell him dryly.
He nods and looks around. He’s wearing a pale blue thermal shirt that brings out the ice in his eyes, and a pair of dark jeans. His hair is pulled back in a stubby ponytail that serves to highlight his sharp cheekbones. As a teen he was all sharp planes and angles, jaw too angular, eyes a little too wide for his face. Now those angles are sculpted by muscle and sinew into a thing of beauty.
“I’ve got Mom running the store for me today. I was planning to head outside, get a little fresh air,” he says. “You want to come along?”
I look around. There’s nothing I absolutely need to do for the next little while. Mom is at water aerobics this morning, and Gus is at school. For once, no one needs me for anything.
