Page 3 of Blush
Roya slipped the sample into her mouth. “Mmmm,” she said. “There are some tropical fruit notes in here. Right?”
Steven walked in, his arms laden with shopping bags. He gave the customers a nod of greeting before joining Leah behind the counter.
“Mission accomplished,” he said, unpacking the special cheese wrapping paper and bags from Formaticum she’d run out of. Her delivery wasn’t due until tomorrow, so Steven had made a trip to Brooklyn. She smiled at him.
Steven Bailey was tall and lean, his thick dark hair threaded with silver. His intense eyes appeared green-gray, except in the sun, when she could see they were, in fact, blue. He was as handsome as he had been the day she first saw him. She had been fresh out of college, working behind the counter at the legendary shop Murray’s Cheese in the Village, where Steven was the assistant manager. It was supposedto be just a summer job, a last hurrah in the city before she returned to the Hollander winery to take her place in the family business alongside her father.
It hadn’t worked out that way.
Another customer appeared in the doorway, and Roya and the trench coat woman had to squeeze in to make room.
“Good morning, Mrs. Fryer,” Leah said. The woman had lived in the neighborhood for sixty years and had been widowed for half of that time. She kept busy with her four Dachshunds and local gossip.
“Tell me it isn’t true,” Mrs. Fryer said.
“What isn’t true?” Roya asked.
“I’m going to take the Kunik and the Brie,” said the trench coat woman.
Leah nudged Steven out of the way so she could reach into the cheese case. The place really was not big enough for the two of them.
“She’s closing the shop,” Mrs. Fryer announced to the whole store.
“No one’s closing anything,” Steven said.
“Who’re you?” Mrs. Fryer asked.
Steven and Leah exchanged a look. She shrugged.
“I’m Leah’s husband, Steven. We met last week.”
“Well, you can’t fool me,husband. The landlord sold to developers. This entire block is going! They’re putting up a big condo.”
Outside, Mrs. Fryer’s leashed dogs began to bark. “I’ll be back this afternoon for my Gouda.” The door stuck as she left, and warm air wafted in. The trench coat woman reached to close it. When she paid for her cheese, she handed Leah a business card.
“My name’s Anouk Jansen—I’m a real estate agent.”
“Anouk. What a lovely name. Swedish?” Leah said.
“Dutch. If you’re looking for a new retail space, feel free to be in touch.”
“We’re definitely looking for a new space,” Steven said, taking the card from Leah.
“Atsomepoint,” Leah said, shooting him a look.
Everything was moving way too fast.
A few months earlier, in a corporate restructuring, Steven’s company had offered senior management—including members of the in-house legal team—the option to take a package and retire early. Steven had jumped at the chance. He’d never enjoyed being an attorney. It had always been a means to an end: supporting his family. But now that Sadie had only one year left of college, the pressure was off.
Leah had fully supported his decision. The truth was, she was ready for a change, too. She’d become tired of running the shop. She’d lost the spark. Yes, she still loved cheese, and maybe she would still try to teach. But she’d had enough of the day-to-day running of the business: the payroll for her part-timers, the politics of the New York City Department of Health, the vendors, her landlord.
But when she admitted to Steven that she wasn’t planning on reopening, he had other ideas.
“I’ll help you. I’ll have so much free time. We can run it together. It can beourcheese shop.”
Leah had been shocked by the suggestion. And not in a good way. Growing up, she’d seen her parents navigate working together, and it had been fraught. “Someone has to be the boss,” her mother had once said to her.
Maybe she could discuss it with her mother next week; she and Steven would be vacationing at the vineyard where Leah had grown up.
