Page 40 of Something Old

Madeline cocked her head, took the paper bag, and reached inside. Before her fingers even touched the bag’s contents, giving her any inkling of what the gift was, Gwen started to apologize. “It’s just something little, and it’s kind of ridiculous really, especially when you’re surrounded by lovely things every day. It’s okay if you don’t like it.”

But Madeline hardly heard her. She had withdrawn the bag’s contents and let the empty bag fall to the floor.

“Oh, my goodness,” Madeline whispered—then her eyes shot up to Gwen’s. “It’s so beautiful. I can’t even . . .” She stared down again at the saucer-less teacup she’d sold to Gwen those weeks back. It was nestled in a foam-packed box to keep it from shifting or getting destroyed in transport, and it was a marvel. A tiny fairy garden of various miniature succulents, complete with a small stone path and a lovely pond that Madeline thought was made from an old compact’s mirror. A purple-winged fairy sat on a little bench by the pond, almost hidden by greenery. Madeline looked closer, then laughed with surprise. “The fairy—she’s noticeably middle-aged, not a kid.”

Some tension seemed to leave Gwen’s body as she realized Madeline wasn’t merely being kind. She really was enamored with the gift. “I know. Pretty great, right? I found this whole set of old fairies online.”

Madeline laughed. “Not ‘pretty great.’ Super great.”

Next, Madeline’s eyes lit on a tiny wooden sign with a prettily written message. She squinted, wishing she had her reading glasses on, then made it out. Never stop dreaming. Madeline’s eyes lifted to Gwen’s again. “I . . . I don’t know what to say. The whole thing is just . . . so sweet. I love it.”

Gwen turned a happy pink, and she fluttered her hand dismissively. “It’s nothing. I just really like plants, and when I came across this craft idea online, I figured the kids would have fun making them with me, and well, I thought they turned out pretty cute. I hoped you might get a kick out of them too.”

“I love it,” Madeline said again, “and I adore the message. Thank you.” She carefully pulled the little treasure from its protective box and set it in a safe spot on the payment counter, where it had good light and where everyone who came in would be able to see it, but it wouldn’t get knocked down.

After a few more minutes of small talk, Gwen looked at her phone, and a slightly panicked expression creased her face. “I’m sorry. I’ve got to run.”

Madeline couldn’t help but notice, however, that despite Gwen’s self-professed need to hurry off, she paused on the porch to remove withered blooms from some of the petunias cascading from a planter box affixed to the railing.

Watching her, Madeline tapped a finger against her mouth, the seed of an idea sprouting—except, no, it probably wouldn’t work. Gwen had a full-time job as it was. She probably didn’t need the added stress of trying to fit in one more thing, especially for the meager pay that Madeline could afford right now. It was a shame, though. Gwen seemed like the perfect fit for Madeline’s budding needs, plus Madeline wouldn’t mind sharing the shop with her. It was a bit funny, perhaps, but she felt protective of her shop. Anyone was welcome to visit, whether to buy or just browse, but when it came to working with someone, she had decided to adopt a firm kindred-spirits-only policy.

Boots, who’d been asleep on the floor in the middle of the most direct route to the coffee maker—of course—lifted his head and opened one eye, as if saying, You ask a lot, don’t you?

She laughed. “Don’t judge me, cat. I spent a lot of years accommodating others. I can be a bit picky if I want to be now. Besides, like the cup says, keep dreaming, right?”

Boots lifted his furry shoulders in a stretch that looked a whole lot like a big old shrug.

A customer came in then, and Madeline’s day officially started—and went by at a peaceful but quick pace. Aisha showed up in the late afternoon to pick up keys, discuss the dates Madeline had in mind, and go over the point-of-sale system—which she caught onto immediately.

Before Madeline knew it, it was nearly time to close up for the night. She texted Grant to see if he could meet for dinner and also asked if he wanted help at his dad’s later. She was a little surprised when she got a text back declining both offers but tried to shrug it off.

“Looks like it’s just you, me, and sushi, Cat,” she told Boots in a slightly too loud, too cheery way. It had been a long time since she’d had sushi, though. She and Grant had planned to go, but then they’d gotten too busy with lake trips.

Grant. In her head. Again. Rats. She checked her phone for the time—quarter to. Someone might still come in, and she never wanted to shut down early and run the risk of having people feel her hours weren’t dependable. Deciding to use the spare minutes to unpack a box of china she’d taken on consignment earlier in the day, she headed to the dining room section of the shop.

It had been such a peaceful, nondescript day—and such a long time since she’d heard a peep out of any of them—that when it happened, her heart hit her sternum, and she almost dropped the sugar bowl she was holding.

The voice was petulant, spoiling for a fight. You never think about me anymore, do you? Only him.

Oh, for the love of everything merciful in the world. Lyle. At the worst time, of course. Why couldn’t he ever pipe up while she was remembering some of their positives? Recalling the certain tone he used that drove her wild with irritation set the peace she’d been trying so desperately to achieve with him back several notches.

She put the sugar dish down on a nearby dining table with careful deliberation—an action that she knew conveyed her own anger. Then, stalling for time, she fiddled with her phone and finally laid it to rest on the table too.

“You died, Lyle. That’s not my fault. And I grieved for you. I do grieve—”

Hah.

Madeline tried a different tack. She’d been through this song and dance a million times before. “You’re lucky that dish didn’t crash to the floor! It’s a commission set, and with all its pieces intact, it should easily bring in close to two grand—making my cut a helpful sum, thank you very much. I can’t afford to buy it outright, especially if it’s damaged.”

Sounds more like you’re lucky then, said Lyle.

Okay, this was ridiculous. She wasn’t going to use whatever time they already didn’t have left to bicker like bratty children. Madeline closed her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said, and she was.

That’s a first.

She took the comment on the chin and didn’t bother to point out that he was equally capable of holding a grudge and not letting things go.

“I loved you, Lyle, and you loved me.” The truth of the words hit her hard, and she realized she wasn’t just trying to placate him or herself. They had loved each other. That’s why trying to get over him was so . . . awful. Why she felt so terrible that he’d died when they were having a rough—