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I moved closer as she did, nearly pressing myself to the glass windows to stare into the shop. Inside, I could see tall ceilings and rough, exposed brick; book shelves and velvet chairs illuminated by the soft light of a glowing Christmas tree in the corner. There was a little brick fireplace, and I imagined it crackling softly and burning bright as customers sat around drinking their coffees and hot chocolates. It was the picture of cozy warmth and contentment, and it seemed strange to me. It was absolutely nothing like my father’s cold, straightforward homes or his gray, dull office buildings filled with shiny metallics and black leather furniture. I suddenly didn’t want this place to be ripped apart and turned into what my father wanted. I liked it. I liked the warmth it brought to my mind, even now in the midnight hour when the streets were cold and empty of life. It was still there, in the solid climb of brick and the glitter of lights, like an ember in the night, waiting to be lit. I had grown up sheltered in the careful dark and gray of my father’s success. This place was like a balm of warmth and light, nestled in a perfect little building and kept alive by Oliver Harlow’s hands. I understood what Sadie meant when she brought me here, even though it was difficult to wrap my mind around the love and work that had gone into the making of this place.
“I’ll talk to him about it when I can,” I told her quietly, still staring into her brother’s shop. “I get it now.”
Sadie thought over that for a moment and then seemed to accept that answer as the truth, and with one last look at Harlow’s, we crossed the street and jumped into the waiting warmth of the car.
Nora turned a little, the profile of her familiar face visible in the low light, and asked happily, “Anything interesting over there?”
“More than interesting,” I nodded at her. I could feel Sadie staring at me and when I turned to her, there was a strange look on her face that I couldn’t quite place. It was like a soft dawn, a slow sort of acceptance that rose and fell over her face. It was gone after a moment, replaced by the quiet indifference that seemed to cover her features easily. I felt a little disappointed.
I sat back in the seat and let out a long breath of air, stretching out my legs and thinking of how it might go with my father. I wondered if he would like Sadie, though it sounded like they had already met, and it hadn’t been exactly amicable on either side. She was passionate and driven about the things she loved, which was always a good trait to have for most people. To my father, I knew it might come off as pigheaded and obstinate. He wasn’t a man to be challenged. It might make him want the shop even more with the knowledge that its owners were so determined not to give it up, though I wasn’t sure if Oliver knew of my father’s plan or if Sadie was the only one aware of it.
“I don’t really think that you’re like him,” Sadie told me quietly, apropos of nothing and staring out of the window. I jumped a little at the sudden sound of her voice. “You don’t seem like the type.”
“You don’t know him. He’s not as bad as you think,” I told her, though it almost felt like a lie. “He’s a great man. He just knows what he wants, and he goes after it. I should be like him. It’s worked for my dad so far.”
“At the cost of others,” Sadie snapped quickly at me, though there was no real heat in it. I could tell that she cared about what she was saying but not enough to actually get upset about it. “That’s not a win in my book.”
“No, but it’s a victory, at least to him anyway,” I told her, running a finger down the cold window as the lights whirled by the glass, and watching the heat of my hand fog the space around it.
“What’s so great about stealing from other people to make a profit anyway? That’s no way to live a life,” Sadie’s voice sounded sleepy and slow, falling over me like a warm wind in the car’s dim interior.
“It’s his life, I guess. He can live it how he wants to in the time he’s got,” I shrugged, looking for a more eloquent way to phrase it and finding nothing. My father’s life had been one big conquest and I didn’t expect him to slow down anytime soon, even as his illness progressed.
Our knees bumped together, thighs pressed close, and Sadie made a soft sound like someone on the edge of deep sleep. Her eyes fluttered closed and her lips parted as she breathed softly. She had her head tipped back against the seat and I moved a little closer to her to make sure she didn’t topple over into the cool leather. Her warm breath brushed my cheek, and I tried to ignore the chill of goosebumps it brought to my skin. She was completely asleep and snoring softly before we reached her apartment. I motioned to Nora in the driver’s seat. “Just head over to my place and she can sleep on the couch. She never gave me directions and I don’t really want to wake her up.”
