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Athena nods as she yawns, wrapping her arms around her own narrow ribcage. Ruby walks over to her daughter and rubs her back. They turn out the light and go back to bed.
* * *
By the time Athena leaves the island three days later, she’s satisfied that her mother is firmly grounded, has chosen a good location for the bookstore, and is at home in her new beachfront house, and Ruby is honestly excited to be on her own. She's got a list of things she needs to tackle, and she's ready to roll up her sleeves and get to work.
"How do you feel about this color palette, Mrs. Hudson?" Miranda, the decorator Ruby has hired for the bookstore, is standing there in an ivory colored shirt dress, holding a book full of paint samples in her hands.
"Please--Ruby is fine. I insist," Ruby says, blowing a stray lock of hair out of her eyes as she approaches Miranda. The decorator has the book open to a page with five possible paint colors, each a mere variation on the one before it. Ruby reaches out to take the heavy tome. "May I?"
Once Miranda hands it over, Ruby walks to the window that looks out onto Seadog Lane. She holds up the samples, letting the natural light hit them.
"Well," she says, squinting and trying to imagine what color will go where. "I think this shade of pink needs to be outside, for sure." Ruby walks to the front door, which is currently propped open to let in the pleasant breeze. The calendar has just flipped over to March, and spring is everywhere. She steps out onto the sidewalk in her olive green cargo pants and white Converse sneakers. A white cable-knit fisherman's sweater has slipped off of one shoulder, revealing the strap of a white tank top.
From across the street, a small group of people stop and stare, which Ruby completely ignores. She's used to people gawking at her and knowing who she is, and she’s even used to the idea that they're gossiping about her personal life—or at least about what they think they know. Since her appearance on Leeza’s show, Ruby has encountered a lot more people who want to take selfies with her, and several who want to high-five her for calling Leeza out on her own show, which Ruby always tries to downplay. Because who cares about tabloid-worthy gossip like Ruby Hudson and Leeza exchanging words? Ruby isn’t the First Lady anymore, and she never will be again. She smiles at them and carries on.
"Where are you thinking for the pink?" Miranda asks, stepping out the door and standing next to her on the sidewalk.
Ruby waves a hand over the storefront, pointing at the trim around the windows. "I want the main color to be that gray we picked out, and the pink to be for the front door and the trim around the windows. I think that'll really pop."
"I think it will too," Miranda agrees. She looks up and down Seadog Lane at the other businesses. "Especially since every other building is totally tame and neutral."
Ruby turns to her with a grin. "That's exactly what I want. I’m thinking of a cottage vibe, and obviously my interior style is kind of a shabby chic beach look, which you know from the million things I’ve added to our Pinterest board.”
Miranda smiles at this and nods. “You do have a strong sense of what you want, and we will definitely make it happen.”
The women go back inside and look at a few more paint samples together. They settle on varying shades of white with prominent gray and blue undertones that will look understated in the different rooms of the bookstore. The walls should be muted enough that anything Ruby wants to display will stand out against them.
After she and Miranda finish choosing upholstery for the couches and chairs that will be scattered throughout the store, Ruby walks through the rooms. She eyes the tall, custom-built white wooden bookshelves fitted with ladders that slide along the length of the shelves so she can access the overstock that she'll store up high. The walls have built-in shelving that will be filled with curios, some with spotlights aimed at the objects that will sit there.
This was part of Ruby's plan all along: to incorporate her whole life from the beginning to this point, and to use some of the things that were swathed in bubble wrap, boxed, stored, and essentially forgotten. And there are so many things she doesn't want to forget! On every trip she took as First Lady, Ruby had both given and received gifts. Some of the things are treasured and cherished items that she wants to take out and display here in the store. Gifts like the mother of pearl nativity scene from the King of Jordan, the silver humidor from the Soviet Premier, and the silver Aztec calendar she got in Mexico, will all be preserved in glass cases and displayed on the shelves. Other items will be displayed on the walls, like artwork received from the governments and leaders of various countries, and a circular platter with bands of elephants, bulls, lions, horses, and lotus petals that Ruby received from the Prime Minister of Sri Lanka.
From her former life—the life she lived before she met Jack—she wants to display the things that brought her the most joy and that she’s had to keep tucked away in storage for decades. There is the lovely lamp she bought in Santa Barbara one summer that was handmade by a local glassblower. It throws off sparks of light and color whenever she turns it on, and Ruby wants it at the front counter of the bookstore. There is also a collection of flower pots made by local artisans in the places she visited all throughout California during her college years. She’d intentionally stopped at roadside stands and poked around thrift shops and art galleries, hoping to find hand-thrown pots. Her flower pot collection is a gorgeous hodgepodge of smooth and jagged mosaic tiles, painted terra cotta, and ceramic, and she can see them already, standing on the high windowsills that line the upper row of squat, rectangular windows near the ceiling.
Ruby walks around the shop in her Converse, stopping here and there to admire her little kingdom. She stands on a staircase that leads to a tiny upper office area, and she stops in the back room of the bookstore, where she can look straight through the shop to the front desk. Finally, she stands at a side table next to the huge window at the front of the store, looking around and daydreaming about what the future holds for her new shop. It’s all hers, really and truly hers. She is the sole proprietor of a shop that will sell romance novels, cookbooks, biographies, gardening manuals, and every kind of book in between. She is the mistress of this place—the brains behind the whole operation. And the very thought of it thrills her. To be her own boss, to make her own rules…it’s been so long, and the novelty of it almost overwhelms her for a moment.
She answers to no one. Not anymore.
When it’s complete, Ruby wants her store to be light and bright, and to be a reflection of a life that has taken her from the west coast to the east coast and around the world. It should be a testimonial to a life lived as a wife, a mother, an English major, a book-lover, and a First Lady.
Ruby glances down at the stainless steel tank watch given to her by the president of the Czech Republic on her last official visit to the country as First Lady, and she lays a hand gently over its face. She’d unearthed the watch along with all her other artifacts, happy that she’d had the foresight to pack the things she’d wanted to hang onto for sentimental and aesthetic purposes—rules about gifts valued at over four hundred dollars not leaving the White House be damned.
After all, who was going to stop a grieving woman from taking a few mementos and keepsakes? Who amongst the White House staff would step in and ask Ruby to put a halt to her packing, particularly when most of them had been privy and played a part in the deception that led to Jack’s untimely death? As it turned out, none of them had the guts to confront her, and she’d wrapped up all of her keepsakes and packed them alongside the girls’ baby books, her winter coats, and the blanket her grandmother had made for her when she was a child, taking it all with her when she left the White House.
But enough of that, Ruby thinks, walking behind the front counter of her bookstore and opening the top drawer to reveal the letterhead and business cards she’d had made for the shop. She pulls out a card and holds it up, admiring the embossed palm tree with a Jolly Roger flag flapping from its trunk. Across the top of the card is the name of her store:Marooned With a Book. And beneath that, her name:Ruby Hudson, Proprietress. It’s the first time in so long—so long that she can’t even remember how long—that she’s owned something for herself. Something that is truly, honestly, with no strings attached,hers.
Ruby glances around to make sure she’s alone and does a little happy dance right there at the front counter of Marooned With a Book.
The thought that she’s completely reimagined her whole future suddenly fills her with such awe and wonder that her heart begins to race. She’s on an island where she knows almost no one, and she’s starting a business of her own that she’ll be running as a one-woman show. Ruby’s whole future is a mystery, but that feeling is okay, she thinks, because up until now, every minute of every day has been planned for her by someone else; every outfit selected, everything she will need to say carefully laid out and vetted for meaning and intent.
But now…there are no rules.
Now, the rules are hers to make.
A chill runs up Ruby’s arms as she looks again at her business card and thinks of all that her little shop could become: Marooned With a Book is like a baby she’s about to give birth to, its potential still unknown.
With a feeling of satisfaction, Ruby locks up her shop and heads to her golf cart, with Banks following close behind.
Athena
