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“Why won’t you give up?” Jackson asks. “I’ve made it very clear I don’t need anything from you.”
“I…just wanted to bring some of the party to you,” I say. “That’s all. It was a fun time. I had a blast. I wish you were there.”
“You shouldn’t,” Jackson says. “I’m not fixable. I am the way I am, and no amount of Danishes or streamers will change that. You’re wasting your time. Got it?”
“Got it,” I say.
“Someone told you what happened, didn’t they?”
“No.” My voice quivers. “Like I said, I wanted to hear it from you.”
When we catch eyes, I see the truth. His eyes are soft around the edges, looking at me. There’s pain there, simmering under the surface.
“I’ll put this away,” I say, seconds away from free-flowing tears. I take down the remaining decorations and fill my arms.
After I leave his office, I tuck the reusable decorations back in the supply closet, making sure they’re stashed neatly under the various holiday banners. I keep it together long enough to go to the bathroom, a single room marked Employees Only.
I sit down on the toilet lid and drop my head in my hands to cry, but stop myself.
Shiloh in Goldheart doesn’t cry. She holds it together.
“Today is a great day,” I say to myself. It’s just enough to tilt my chin high and pull myself together.
7
Shiloh
“Sweetie, what are you doing back here by yourself?”
I came back to change out a keg, but I found the youngest Finch peeking outside the back door. A back door I was told should be always closed.
“Nothing.” Her voice is too high to be nothing.
Besides Jackson, the rest of the family has been open and welcoming. Olive always says hi to me when she hangs out at the brewery. She’s usually a good kid, reading in the corner or harassing Cameron for snacks.
Olive rarely leaves her small table in the corner, but now she’s looking out the back door like she’s trying to sneak people into the movies from the exit.
I knew Olive would be hanging out at the brewery tonight while Emily worked on her jewelry orders at home. Cameron and Reid are off tonight, so it’s just me and Ramon out front. I have no idea where Kit, Olive’s grandmother, is. It’s slow for a Wednesday in September since the tourists left with the Labor Day holiday.
I walk up behind her. “Where’s your grandma?”
“Shh. You’ll scare her.”
“Who?”
Olive pulls her head from behind the door and the frame. “She’s here.”
“Who?”
Olive opens the door wider and in saunters a raccoon.
A humongous raccoon.
My saliva evaporates, and a squeak comes out of my mouth. Ramon warned me about this, but I honestly thought it was a joke.Under any circumstances, please keep the back door closed since a gang of raccoons will take advantage of access.If a small child tries to lure a raccoon in, you stop it.
I’m realizing the small child I was warned about is Olive.
Now, a raccoon has breached the back door, on my watch. I am letting this happen. I’m so getting fired.
