Ava was always fragile, but I kept that thought to myself.
“I’ll see about inviting them next week. Maybe I could make crawfish fettuccine.”
All I could do was nod. As good as Mama’s crawfish fettuccine was, I was going to be busy next Sunday.
“Bye, Mama.”
“Bye, sweet baby.”
Moments later, tucked into the front seat of my car, I pressed my palms to my burning cheeks. It had been almost impossible to push thoughts of Cole from my mind after our run-in on Saturday night. For months after they’d gone, I had missed both Cole and Ava unbearably. And when they’d sold the house, and Mama and I had to move into the apartment off Kaliste Saloom, the longing for them both — and for the home I’d once shared with them — had only grown.
I had grieved like I hadn’t known was possible. And though I had ached for them both, the pain I’d felt for Cole had been so much sharper. Deeper. Because of what we’d shared. Because he’d left hating me.
It had taken so long to heal.
And now they were back. And, clearly, though Cole had run into me completely by accident, they had sought Mama out. I could understand this. She’d practically raised them, just as she’d raised me. Fed them nearly every meal they ate. Washed their clothes. Cleaned up their messes. Loved them. I knew they’d always loved her.
As I drove back to work, I also had to reconcile the fact that Mama said Cole had been the one to call her. Not Ava. They’d gone to see her at the restaurant, a place I was unlikely to be. With a sinking feeling, I guessed that was probably on purpose. If Cole had wanted to see Mama while being careful to avoid me, catching her at work was a pretty safe bet.
I had to admit that stung.
But the more I thought about it, the surer I felt about his intentions. He’d just run into me a few days before. He knew I still lived in town. I was still friends with Alberta. If he’d wanted a reunion for the four of us, surely he would have said so when he called Mama.
Maybe he still felt the same about that night. Maybe he still hated me.
Nothing in my life had felt worse than that. But I thought I’d let all of that go. Risen above it. Now it weighed like a cinder block at my ankles, pulling me under. So, by the time I turned into South College Shopping Center, it was all I could do to drag my feet across the parking lot and into the store.
I found the showroom empty of customers, but Ed stood behind the counter. Without lifting his head, he peered at me over the rims of his reading glasses.
“What’s the matter with you?” he asked dryly. “You look like someone just kidnapped your bunny.”
I liked my boss. I liked him a lot. But Ed Buttross was the definition of nosy. It did not do to confide in him. I’d made that mistake the first year I worked for him when I had complained about Alberta’s unpracticed cooking. (We’d had beef stroganoff the night before. Epically awful beef stroganoff.) But for three weeks straight after that, he’d asked about what she’d made or what I’d made or where we’d gone out.
And on top of being nosy, Ed was a meddler. An awkward meddler. Every time Alberta came to the store, he’d ply her with recipes. I finally had to ask him to stop when Alberta asked why my boss was so weird.
Dropping my purse behind the counter, I sighed. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“Well, that was convincing.”
I ignored his sarcasm and scanned the shelves. “Anything come in while I was gone?”
Ed was hunched over a delicate silver and diamond tennis bracelet, repairing its clasp. “Battery replacement on a Shinola,” he said, again, not looking up from his work, but angling his head to the tray on the far side of the shelving. Replacing a luxury watch battery would take me all of three minutes, but I was grateful for the change of subject and the chance to focus on something other than my thoughts.
“How’s Mama?” he asked as we worked side by side.
I fought a smile. Ed knew Mama’s name was Flora, yet he called her Mama — even to her face. She loved it. Even though he was only about five years her junior. But that was Ed. He was a meddler. A spy. A hugger. He could make anyone feel welcome, and within ten minutes he’d know their life story.
The jewelry store sat in a sprawling strip mall in the middle of town. It wasn’t as flashy as the upscale jewelry boutiques in the newer developments further south. The store had been around for a while, and it showed. But people recognized the name, and from what I saw, Ed was the reason customers kept coming back.
He also took care of his employees, which, for the most part, was me. Ed’s sister, Fran, would come in two days a week to help him with bookkeeping and inventory, but that was the extent of the staff.
Ed let me take off when I needed to, and if he couldn’t cover for me, he wasn’t opposed to hanging theClosedsign in the door and locking up. But better than that, and something that first made me love him, was that he tried not to leave me or Fran alone in the store unless it was locked up.
“Jewelry store smash and grabs are on the rise,”he’d warn.“A scumbag might think twice with two of us here.”
If two employees were in the store, the chances of someone sounding the alarm and scaring off the burglars were better. I couldn’t argue with that, so I was always grateful Ed took those precautions. He tried to run all of his errands when Fran was here with me, and if he had to go out for longer than an hour or so, he’d usually ask his nephew Rick to come in.
So, yeah, my boss was a nosy, meddling, hugger in his fifties who fussed over me like an uncle. Unless I wasn’t in the mood to talk, I sort of loved it.
