Page 81 of The Tattered Gloves
“My words, not his. He called, making sure everything was good between the two of us. I assured him it was and gave my blessing, as a best friend to both of you. That’s when he told me about the hand-holding.”
“It wasn’t holding so much as touching. Or barely touching,” I tried to explain.
“But it was something.”
I smiled. “Yeah, it was.”
“Look, I know I’ve never asked, and that’s because I figure you have your reasons for not sharing. But whatever happened to you, whatever caused the gloves to be put on in the first place, you’ll find a way to let go and move on. I’m sure of it.”
“I wish I shared your optimism,” I said, looking down at a stray piece of yarn hanging from my glove.
“No need. I have enough for both of us!”
“Let go and move on.”
I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I knew one thing…I was ready to try.
ADDY HAD ARRIVED at Page Turners about fifteen minutes ago. She’d walked in and taken a look around while Sam and I’d nervously eyed each other. After asking her to meet with us and offer some business advice, she’d suggested a trip to the store might be in order.
“I need a feel for the place,” she’d explained. “It’s been a while.”
Seeing her walk through the stacks now though? It felt like an inspection we hadn’t been prepared for.
“I had some time to look over your notes, Sam,” she finally said, returning to the front where we stood. “And, although your penmanship still needs some work, you have some good ideas… great ideas actually.”
“Thank you,” he responded, sounding slightly relieved.
“But they’re lofty,” she continued. “A little too lofty for what you have to work with right now. If there is one thing I’ve learned about owning a business, it’s that you never take on more than you can handle.”
“But—” Sam tried to intervene.
“Let me finish,” she said, holding out her hand. “Like I said, I like your ideas. And I think, over time, you could probably do all the things you’ve dreamed about here, in these pages of notes. Like a top-of-the-line coffee bar with fresh pastries to sell. Branching out would guarantee the longevity of the bookstore, but without the capital to invest in the equipment, you are stuck back at square one.”
I watched as Sam deflated instantly.
This wasn’t the good news he had been waiting to hear.
“Don’t give up on me just yet,” Addy said, patting him on the shoulder. “I’ve run a successful business out of my home for nearly a decade. It’s been enough to not only support me, but support Willow now as well. That’s something I’m proud of. It’s something I’ve worked hard to achieve. But do you think I want to cut hair in my garage for the rest of my life?”
“It is a nice garage,” he replied with a hesitant smile.
She joined in as I watched the two of them.
“It is, but it wasn’t always that nice. Do you remember when it was nothing more than a chair and mirror?” she asked.
He nodded. “You used to wash our hair in the kitchen sink.”
She smiled, obviously glad he remembered. “My adult clients were thrilled when I finally had the cash to afford an actual washing station. The kids, not so much. They’d loved the trips to the kitchen. The point I’m trying to make is, don’t only hold on to all these dreams,” she said, pointing to the yellow notepad she’d brought back to return to him, “but also work for it. Otherwise, those dreams will never be anything more than random ideas scribbled on a piece of paper.”
Sam’s head bobbed up and down in agreement. “Where do we start?”
A warm smile spread across Addy’s face as we both watched her walk toward the front windows. “Here, I think.”
“There?” I asked, following close behind her.
“Yes.” She nodded. “You want a place where people can meet, have coffee… that sort of thing. In order to do that, you first need to establish a place for it. I think this is the perfect spot. It’s by the window, which allows for natural light and a bit of scenery. Plus, there’s the added bonus of free publicity.”
“How so?” Sam asked, one step behind me.
