Page 2 of Afternoon Delight
“Meg. I actually am.” Her expression had sobered into pensive. Desperate. “I’m really worried about it. The landlord is calling about rent and...” Her eyes welled up.
“Hey.” I reached out to squeeze her hand. “You know I’ll do anything. I can cover rent for a few months if you need me to.”
“It’s not that. I need my business to run. To generate income. For bills and the bank loan. I put all my savings into this. If I lose it, I’m starting from nothing at forty.”
“You’re not going to lose it. That’s the pain pills talking.” They cramped her mood, she’d told me.
“I’m high as a kite,” Georgia had agreed as she ran a thumb under her leaking eye. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t ask for help. But I really don’t want to lose my store, Meg.”
“I know, but—” I bit back the protest that rose from sheer cowardice.
I thought of Roddie, who lived with Joel and kept insisting he was fine. And Mom, who was fighting me at every turn when it came to cleaning out the house. She wanted to keep everything the same. I didn’t want to be Mom—stuck in the past. We both needed to start moving forward.
“You don’t want to let me down, do you?” Georgia prodded.
I dropped my jaw in exaggerated outrage. “You ruthless bitch.”
Georgia showed all her teeth in a slow, wide grin, knowing she had me.
So here I was, shaking things up.
Shaking.
Afraid.
Imagining I could hear Georgia yelling, The water’s fine.
I studied the awnings on the brick building—one blue, the other pink—that sheltered the storefront windows and the stoop in between. Under the pink one, the building looked gloomy and dark. Below the blue one, a golden light beckoned.
No use waffling. I had said I would do it, but I couldn’t help wondering if this decision would leave me as screwed as last time.
Mom was going to hate it. Helping a friend meant dropping off a casserole or donating bone marrow. It didn’t mean becoming the face of an adult toy shop. As for what Joel would say?—
Ugh. No more Joel. No more spiraling through old choices, wishing I’d made different ones. No more sitting in a cubicle promising myself things would get better.
Get out of the car, dipshit. Make it better.
I threw open the door. A gust of wind caught it, nearly smashing it into the side of the SUV parked next to mine. I managed to hang onto it, stepped into the puddle of water backed up from the clogged drain in the curb, swore, slammed the door, and trotted the half block until I was under the pink awning of the building.
I gasped against the frigid air filling my lungs. I really needed to start some cardio.
At the darkened window, I cupped my hands above the gold-stenciled Afternoon Delight on the glass. A translucent white curtain hid the window display, but there was nothing to see. The display was empty. A tall wooden shelf was strategically placed to limit the view of any stock it might hold. Sheets were draped over odd shapes on the table in the middle of the room. There was a cheerful area rug before the cash desk, open rafters in the ceiling, and a slatted wall at the back peppered with hooks. Bagged goods hung on either side of a door that presumably led to a stockroom and bathroom.
For me, it was Room Twelve all over again—filled with mysteries both titillating and intimidating. It was filled with sex.
I felt in my coat pocket for the key and moved to the door.
The two shops were mirrors of each other. I glanced through the door where Twice is Nice Emporium was painted on the glass. Their Open sign glowed extra bright on this gloomy Thursday.
Inside their window, a flowery ceramic basin and jug sat next to a small pendulum clock atop an ornate wooden dresser. A lazy Susan stood on a fancy coffee table with pretty china cups arranged on it. Old-timey tins were stacked on shelves lit beneath a lamp with a fringed shade.
The crowded display reminded me of the books my kids used to love—the ones with busy photos and rhyming lists of things to search for: five buttons, a dime, three yellow tins, and a thing that tells time.
Twice is Nice had an additional selling feature handwritten on a piece of paper taped to the inside of their door:
We specialize in wood revival.
Same, I snickered to myself as I unlocked the door to Afternoon Delight.
