Page 102 of Soft Flannel Hank

What Jory had done with her shop was a thing of beauty. She had collected and curated an entire store full of beautiful secondhand pieces, some vintage, some designer, some both, along with multiple other items that she’d found at secondhand and thrift stores and estate sales. Jory had referred to it as “treasure hunting,” and it made sense to Esther now. It looked like a pop-up capsule from Anthropologie, a store that made Esther drool but that she had rarely been able to afford.

Jory was leading her back to the office, a small room next to the fitting room. Esther had expected a bland setup like most retail offices. She should have known better. Jory’s desk was a raw wood slab table set atop a vibrant Turkish rug that was shot through with hot pinks and oranges and blues. One wall was floor-to-ceiling shelves and cabinets that held files, books, and other necessary business items.

On the wall behind the desk, Esther saw brightly colored oil painting of an old fishing boat floating on a rough sea. The waves were turquoise and black and cerulean blue, and the little boat was painted to look like unfinished wood but full to the brim with rainbow nets and fish, all tangled together.

“I have to go take care of a few things out front, but nobody will bother you in here. You can use the laptop to watch something if you want, or I’ve got books to read,” Jory said, gesturing to the wall.

“I’ll figure it out.” Esther moved around the desk and sat in the worn, comfortable leather office chair.

“I’ve got a Nespresso machine out front. Can I make you a coffee?”

Esther was feeling the lack of sleep acutely. She’d been awake since three in the morning. Her nerves were rattling and her anxiety was high, but the need for caffeine outweighed any of the potential side effects.

“Oh my goddess, yes, please,” Esther groaned.

Jory smile that feral smile of hers and disappeared from the office. Esther drummed her fingers on the desk. The laptop sat in front of her on the desk, but she knew she didn’t have the attention span to watch anything. The same went for reading. She felt an itching in her palms and sighed. Cards it was.

Esther reached into her backpack and pulled out the satin scrunchie-wrapped deck. The cards felt hot in her hands as she began to shuffle against the beautiful wood desktop, thinking of Hank. It was mid-afternoon, and she wondered what he was doing. Maybe he was chopping more wood, pouring all of his anger and hurt into that labor the way he’d done every other time before.

As she thought of Hank, Esther felt the urge to draw a card. Her intuition was buzzing and she asked, “What is Hank doing right now?”

A card practically flew out of the deck and onto the desk. The Two of Wands.

The Two of Wands often represented planning or moving forward with long-term goals in mind. Esther pursed her lips. What was there to plan? He’d read her note. He knew that Jamie would come to get him. Maybe he was planning a life for himself without her after a week of planning a life together.

He’d hazarded to talk about her coming with him to visit Anna in Chicago. She’d talked about taking him to Georgia.

“I can help you pack up all of your stuff for the move,” he’d said, before turning strawberry red above his beard. “I mean, if you want to move.”

Esther hadn’t been able to resist teasing him. “Where should I move, Hank?”

He’d cleared his throat. “Um, I don’t know. Wherever you want. I’ll help you. That’s all.”

“Wherever I want? What if I wanted to move to Maine?”

“I hear Maine is beautiful,” he’d replied tightly.

As casually as she could, she asked, “Would you visit me in Maine?”

“Would you want me to?”

“Of course.”

“Okay,” he’d said. “Then I would.”

“What if I said I wanted to move to Mexico?”

“I’d have to get a passport to visit you in Mexico,” he said, with so much earnestness in his voice that Esther’s breath caught. “I’m not sure how long that takes, but I can start working on it.”

“What if I said I wanted to move to the little cabin behind Magda’s house?”

Hank froze. Esther threaded her fingers through his.

He cleared his throat again. “I would ask you how often I could see you.”

“And what if I said every day?”

“Then I’d see you every day.”