Page 11 of Lost and Lassoed

“I’m closing the store next week.”Fuck.Next week?

“I want to thank you, Teddy. I am so impressed by you,” Cloma said quickly. “You are whip-smart. You’re observant and creative and tenacious and all sorts of wonderful things that are going to take you so far. I could never thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me and this store, but I have something to try.” She handed me the paper bag she was carrying.

One thing about me? I love presents. I love them in every form—giving them, receiving them, thinking about them—and Cloma knew that. She’d given me a lot of great ones over the years—a vintage Dior bracelet, a pair of handcrafted silver cowboy boots, and my own Stevie Nicks shawl—but I didn’t know if I wanted this one. I’d rather have my job.

But I took the paper bag from her anyway. I opened it and saw black leather, and the smell of leather conditioner hit my nose as I reached in to grab what was inside. When I pulled it out, my jaw dropped.

Goddammit, this woman was good. She knew how hard it would be for me to stay mad at her when I was holding this beauty in my hands.

I’d been coveting a 1996 Coach City Bag for as long as I could remember, and now I held one in my hands. It had the perfect silhouette and understated hardware. It was items like this that made me cling to the hope that I could bring my possessions with me to the afterlife.

“It’s beautiful,” I said, wondering when the lump in my throat had started to form. I didn’t know whether it was from the gift or the fact that the gift felt like a goodbye to something I didn’t feel ready to say goodbye to.

“I’ve been saving this for you for a few years. Picked it up at a consignment store in Portland a few years back,” Cloma said.

“I can’t believe you’ve been holding out on me,” I responded, with as much of a smile as I could muster.

“I have this for you, too.” Cloma reached into her back pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper. A check. “It’s six months’ pay.” I shook my head, but Cloma went on talking before I could voice my protest. “Take it, Teddy. It’s the least I can do. This place is just as much yours as it is mine.”

I felt like this placewasmine. Maybe that’s why this hurt so much.

Or maybe it was because it felt like everything was changing at once?

“Thank you” was all I said. It would be nice to have some cushion. My dad had racked up a fair amount of medical bills last year, and the at-home caregiver who came a few times a week wasn’t cheap. Amos, Emmy’s dad, helped us where he could—my dad had worked as his number two at Rebel Bluefor twenty years—but I tried to do everything I could on my own.

“What will you do next?” I asked, genuinely curious about what could possibly make this woman leave something that she loved so much.

Cloma smiled. “I’ve got a grandbaby in California that I don’t see nearly enough. I’m going to start with going out there for a few weeks, and then I’ll figure the rest out. You and Emmy are more than welcome to raid the racks and shelves this weekend. You can have anything you want.” That made my smile a little more genuine, but it didn’t meet my eyes. I definitely couldn’t say no to that. “I’m sorry I didn’t give you more notice. I didn’t know what my decision would be until I made it.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “I understand.” (I didn’t.) “I’m going to miss you,” I said honestly. Cloma leaned over and hugged me tight.

“I’m going to miss you too, Teddy girl. It’s been an honor working with a lion like you.”

Don’t cry, Teddy.

When I walked out the back door of the boutique, the sun was setting. It felt like a metaphor for my life.

Well, fuck that.

I looked up at the sky, took a deep breath, let out a good solid “God fucking dammit,” and stamped my feet a few times.

Something rustled in the dumpster just behind my Ford Ranger, and after a few seconds, Wayne’s head popped up. Wayne was the Meadowlark raccoon guy. His house was in a holler outside town, and I swear, it had more junk in the front yard than the Meadowlark dump. He was a tinkerer and couldoften be found in dumpsters looking for metal and wood and other materials.

Wayne removed the old ski goggles he was wearing and looked at me. “You okay, Miss Teddy?” he asked in his backwoods drawl.

I sighed and waved him off. “Yeah, Wayne, I’m fine. Just one of those days.”

Wayne tilted his head. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I said. I motioned to the dumpster. “Find anything good today?” Before Wayne could answer, my phone buzzed in my back pocket. “One sec.” I pulled it out. “It’s Emmy.” Wayne nodded.

“Hey, babe,” I said when I answered the phone.

“Hey, Miss Emmy!” Wayne called.

“Hi. And hi, Wayne,” my best friend said. I could hear the smile in her voice.

“She says hi,” I said to Wayne as I opened my truck’s passenger door.

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