Page 13 of The One Before

“You’ll see once we get inside,” Josephine says, turning to look at me in the back seat. “This place has a little bit of everything.”

Inside, Josephine introduces me to the owner, a man named Fred. He’s short and round and all too eager to have us in his store. I’d only planned on picking up some pieces for the living room, but Josephine assures him we’ve got an empty house to fill. Watching the way Fred’s eyes pop at the remark makes me blush.

We walk from one setting to the next: a living area, a patio set, a bedroom display. Josephine can’t keep away from Fred, the two of them conversing back and forth. Roman walks to the back of the store and chats with the workers. There’s a couple beside me talking to a salesperson. The worker looks familiar, but that can’t be possible; I’ve not been here long enough to really know anyone. As I walk closer, watching her, I remember she’s the blonde from last night. The name tag on her royal blue vest confirms it: Bridgette, Rising Star.

The couple shopping for a new washer and dryer step away. Her attention turns to me, and I enjoy the quick flicker of recognition in her eyes. I move closer, unable to resist watching her squirm. Like I’m Julia Roberts inPretty Womangiving it to the snotty salespeople on Rodeo Drive. She looks different now, her confidence from last night gone.

I’ve got her cornered between a display of dishwashers. She can’t just ignore me, not with Fred and Josephine standing so close. Finally, she looks up and offers a strained smile.

“Need help finding anything?” she asks.

“You look familiar,” I say, relishing this moment. I replay her comment from last night in my mind.Hope she can swim. Now I’m the one with the upper hand, and I like it.

“Bridgette Rollins? Is that you?” Josephine, standing behind me, steps forward and embraces Bridgette. I’m caught off guard considering how rude this woman was to Regina.

“Nice seeing you, Mrs. Douglas,” Bridgette says. Her head over Josephine’s shoulder, we lock eyes. I’m unsure if she’s thankful for an interruption or if she’s genuinely happy to see her.

Josephine pulls away, motioning to me. “Bridgette, I’d like you to meet my future daughter-in-law, Madison. She’s just moved here from Atlanta.”

“We met at the football game last night,” I say, dryly. I can’t help dangling the possibility I might bring up last night’s comment, although I won’t. I’m not yet comfortable enough with Josephine.

“That’s right,” Josephine says. “Your son is the quarterback, right?”

“Stepson,” Bridgette says. “He’s the second-string linebacker. Still only a sophomore.”

“You must be so proud.” Josephine turns to me. “Bridgette was one of my girls back when I sponsored the cheerleading team. Feels like ages ago, doesn’t it?”

“Is that how you know Regina?” I ask Bridgette.

Bridgette and Josephine chuckle in unison. “Regina wasn’t on the squad, not for lack of trying,” Josephine says. “The school was short a sponsor, and I stepped up. Only did it for a year or two. Sometimes I miss being so involved.”

“We had some good times,” Bridgette says, her eyes bouncing from Josephine to me. Judging by her job and bitter attitude, I’d say it was the best of times for Bridgette.

“Lovely running into you,” Josephine says, lightly touching Bridgette’s hand.

“Let me know if you need help finding anything,” she says, scurrying off.

She’d probably get a hefty commission if she stayed around, but she seems intimidated.

The remaining hour we’re in the store, I barely see Bridgette. I’m too busy committing to furniture I don’t have the funds to buy: a new sofa, some bookcases and a bedroom suite. The sign at the front of the store offers financing, so I can at least pay on my purchases between now and the wedding. At the sales counter, I’m stunned when Josephine announces she will buy everything.

“You can’t,” I say, beginning to sweat. “It’s too much.”

“Please,” she says. “It’s my duty as part of the renovation. I’m not going to throw the responsibility of furnishing the place on you.”

“But it’s our house,” I say, my eyes darting to Roman. “I don’t want you to think you owe us anything. You’ve already done plenty.”

“Word of advice,” Roman says, his voice low. “Mom’s going to get her way. She never passes up the opportunity to spoil someone.”

“I really do insist,” she says, handing her card to Fred. “Go on outside. On the way home, we’ll talk about what else the place needs.”

I’m not used to such graciousness. The entire time we’d been shopping, I’d mentally calculated how much everything would cost, what the monthly installments might be and the potential down payment. I’m used to working for what I want. Sometimes, even with work, I end up disappointed. But, as Roman says, Josephine delights in indulging those she loves. I’m now one of those people.

As I walk to the car, I spot Bridgette outside. She’s leaning against the brick wall of the building, smoking a cigarette.

“Hey, Bridgette,” I say, marching toward her. I’m too close for her to walk away or duck back inside. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“My break is almost over,” she says, eyes flitting for an escape route.

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