Becky laughed and shook her head. “So you can make breakfast in the morning?”
“No.” I peeked through the cracks in the boarded windows, choking back a ball of emotion I wasn’t expecting. “I’ll be able to make all my product here: Lotions, lip balms, all my soaps. I’ll be able to increase production by at least fifty percent, maybe even host classes eventually.”
I was shocked by all the emotions pouring out of me, but this shop was three years in the making, harboring a lifetime of childhood dreams, fears, and my future. It was my first step to finally feeling settled.
“I’ll have my own office in the back room.” I turned to face her. “No more storage unit, no more renting space from pervy Mr. Chavez. I would even have space for artists to sell their products. I’ll have the room, and―”
But then I noticed Becky was crying. I dropped my bag and wrapped my arms around her shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m just… I’m so happy for you.” She wiped her eyes. “You’ve wanted this for so long.”
Fighting back tears of my own, I stepped back a little. “Don’t cry. You’ll make me cry, and you’ll ruin your mascara.”
Just then, a red convertible pulled into the parking lot, and we both turned in unison.
“They’re here.” I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and squared my shoulders.
It was hard to keep my voice from shaking. Hard to clear the tears from my eyes and hard to breathe. This wasn’t just a little adventure for me—this was my everything. If this project failed…
I shook my head. I couldn’t let myself think that way. Today was Tuesday. The day I was born, the day I was named after, my lucky day. Shoeless Austin flashed into my thoughts, but I quickly dismissed him. Even his walking out that morning was lucky. Had he not, I would have been forced into a conversation where I tried to pretend to remember his name. Yeah, it was lucky he walked out. Today was lucky. The perfect day to sign papers.
Becky squeezed my hand and leaned over to whisper in my ear. “Is that your contractor?”
I turned in the direction of the lot just as my real estate agent, Mark, gathered papers from the top of his car.
“No.” I shook my head. “That’s my real estate agent. Mark.” I glanced over to the passenger seat, hoping I’d find Jake Johnson, but he wasn’t there.
I furrowed my brow and picked my bag off the floor. Mark was a consultant for JM Construction, one of the nicest people I’d ever met, but he definitely wasn’t Jake.
He waved his hand in the air as he made his way across the lot. “Mr. Johnson isn’t able to make it today. I hope that’s not a problem.”
I hoisted my bag up to my shoulder and frowned. “Is everything okay?”
“Oh yes, yes. He had an OB appointment with his wife.” His dimple retreated a little deeper into his cheek. “It’s a boy, but don’t say you heard it from me.”
I laughed and nodded. “That’ll be fine.”
Mark punched a code into the lockbox and proceeded to open up the building. “We won’t need him today anyway.” He waved a hand to the inside of the building and stepped aside. “Would you do the honors, Miss Patil?”
I nodded, grabbed hold of Becky’s arm, and pulled her in behind me. I’d found JM Construction after endless months of searching. Jake had one of the best reputations in the industry, but his lack of presence left an uneasy feeling in my gut. I stepped onto the cracked, uneven flooring and pulled in a calming breath. Deep down I knew we wouldn’t need him today, that all the fear swirling in my head was ridiculous, but I couldn’t stop my hands from shaking as I took in the dark, dusty room. Ten years of neglect laid itself at my feet, and I scrunched my nose at the sight of it.
Becky threw her arm around my shoulder and rested her head on top of mine. “It’ll all be okay. It’s nothing a little soap can’t fix.”
Mark followed in behind us, running his hand along the wall so damaged it would need to be torn down. “We’ll need to get a HAZMAT crew in here before we start the demo. But it shouldn’t take more than a week.”
I nodded, even though anxiety threatened to steal my breath. He continued opening cabinets and doors, scribbling notes on a large yellow pad, then stopped and placed his briefcase on the dirt-covered counter. “Are you ready, Miss Patil?”
I looked to the old broken tables scattered about the whole shop, knowing it was too late to back out now. “Yes, of course.”
We spent the next hour talking about plans. Even though Jake wasn’t here in body, his plans were well laid out and precise. His crew would begin tearing everything down—tables, booths, the bar—and put up a solid wall, separating the product floor from the back room. This was the most pivotal part of my plan. It would cause some delay, but I needed the kitchen operational from the start. The two-phase construction was critical to staying on budget. I’d transfer supplies from Mr. Chavez’s garage, replenish product in the back room, and when the product floor was complete, everything would switch.
“The crew can start as soon as we have the keys.” Mark looked down at his notes and flipped a few pages before looking back at me. “There aren’t any complications that I can see—no liens, we have a motivated seller, and a solid offer. We should have the keys in our hands in thirty days.” He smiled and pushed the papers across the table before closing his briefcase. “All that’s left to do is to sign.”
My stomach fluttered as I pulled the papers toward me. I glanced over to Becky, who immediately nodded her approval as I opened the first page. “Do you have a pen?”
Chapter THREE
Tuesday
One month later
“Wait, where are you?” I balanced the phone on one shoulder, leaning back in my chair to open a bottle of Kombucha.
“Just outside of Crescent City—where I met your father.”
It was our normal Tuesday conversation. The only regular thing in my mother’s wild and transient life. I nodded, taking a swig of the pungent tea before turning back to my computer. “Who are you staying with?”
“A woman I met at the art fair. She has a herd of grass-fed goats with the richest, most beautiful milk I’ve ever tasted. I’ll bring you a gallon next time I’m in LA, for your soaps. It would be outstanding.”
“That’d be great,” I replied, clicking a few buttons on the computer to print another label. “But what are you doing there?”
“Oh, you know me,” she said in a singsong voice. “I’ve moved onto my next adventure… but I miss you, sweet pea. You should come join me.”
“I miss you too, Mom. But you know I can’t…”
Silence.
“Are you still going through with that brick and mortar?”
I leaned back in my chair and pushed my head into the soft upholstered seat. “I pick up the keys tonight.” I gripped the bridge of my nose and laughed. “Most parents would be proud, you know.”
“Honey,” she said, her voice quiet but emotional, “I am proud, just… worried. We’re travelers, Tuesday. We’re cut from the same cloth. I’m worried you’ll get wanderlust in a year or two, and you’ll be stuck. Tied to a pile of concrete and brick. It’ll break my heart.”
I pulled in a deep breath and squeezed my fingers around the phone. It was amazing how much self-doubt my mother could instill with so few words. But she was wrong.
“Mom… that’s your way. Not mine. I want to feel settled. I’m planting roots for the first time in my life, and it feels wonderful. I know you don’t understand. It’s not the life you’d choose, but it is for me. Please just be happy.” I need you to be happy.
She sighed heavily. “You’re acting like you hated your childhood, that you had no friends. Did you hate it, Tuesday? Were you really that unhappy?”
I gripped the bridge of my nose. “Mom… that’s not what I’m trying to say. I loved my life. I wouldn’t be the person I am without all the things we’ve done together, and you always made sure I had Becky. I’m just—I’m ready for more now. Don�
�t you understand?”
There was a long pause before she spoke again. “You’re right, honey… You’re always right. Of course I’m happy for you.”
I couldn’t help it; my eyes misted over and a lump formed in the back of my throat. My mom and I didn’t always see eye to eye, but she was important to me. She was my family. The only one.
Becky’s voice called from the living room and I spun around. Well, except for Becky.
“Hey, Mom, Becks just got here. We’re gonna go celebrate. Can I call you later?”
“Of course, go have a good time, dear.”
I nodded, wiping a few tears with my finger. “Thanks Mom, I love you.”
“I love you, too—and Tuesday?”
I nodded.
“I really am proud of you.”
The phone went silent before I could answer, and I swallowed to clear the lump in my throat. My emotions were getting the better of me, and I didn’t like it. I turned around in my chair, determined not to let myself cry again, and found Becky standing in the doorway watching me. She wore black high-waisted shorts and a crop top, nude heels that made her legs look a mile long, and black waves hanging to her waist. She reminded me of a superhero, and there was one thing for certain—we weren’t just going out to dinner.
“Everything okay?” Becky asked, tilting her head to the side as she walked over to the closet.
“It’s fine.” I forced a smile. “Mom,” I stated. As if “Mom” were some kind of magic answer that explained everything. But Becky actually understood.
Determined not to think about it anymore, I turned my attention to Becky and took a slow, deliberate sweep over her outfit. I raised my eyebrows. “Where are you taking me?”
She bit her lip then squeezed between stacks of boxes. “We’re going to dinner, like I said, then we’re going to a pub. There’s a bartender there I like.”
“Mmmhmm…”
“Okay, there’s also a band, pool tables, and organic beer. You’ll fit right in.” She grinned. “Besides, you’ve been working too hard, you need a break. I mean, look at this mess. Your apartment’s exploding with boxes.”
I took in the sight of my bedroom, now stacked waist high with product boxes I didn’t have room for. “That’s only because Mr. Chavez kicked me out of his garage when he heard about the store. This wasn’t exactly my plan.”
“I know.” Becky frowned. “He’s such an ass. I still think we should egg his car.”
I pushed to stand. “Nah. It’ll work out. I’m saving money, which is good. Plus, after the HAZMAT crew is done with the building, all of this will be gone. And guess who’s helping me move it all to my new shop?”
“Umm, Popeye?”
“Nope.”
“Donald Trump?”
I took another swig of Kombucha. “Try again.”
Becky’s shoulders sagged. “It’s me, isn’t it?”
“Bingo.”
A few hours later, parked in the back of Donovan’s Irish pub, I pulled down the visor to check my reflection in the mirror. I was tired… too tired to be out this late on a Tuesday, but the face that looked back at me didn’t look half bad. I slammed the visor up to the ceiling, jiggled it to make sure it was securely closed, and then climbed out of my truck.
I spotted Becky a few rows over and made my way through the lot.
“I’m still not sure why we couldn’t drive together,” she called across to me.
“Because,” I stated, “you’re going to hook up with your bartender, and I have to meet the HAZMAT crew in the morning.”
She made a face that said she didn’t like my answer, then stopped at my side and looped her arm over my shoulder. “I’m not hooking up with Colin. Not yet anyway. We’re still in the foreplay stage.”
“Oh yeah,”—I made air quotes in the sky—“the infamous foreplay stage.” I looked around the lot to the group of college girls streaming into the building in front of us.
“Why didn’t you tell me to dress better?” I glanced down at my faded, oversized overalls to prove my point. “These girls make me look like a sixty-year-old homeless person.”
Becky laughed and scanned me from head to toe. “First of all, I did, and second, you look fine. Better than fine.” She tucked the strand of feathers behind my ear and winked. “Like a bohemian hippy goddess.”
I raised one eyebrow and wrinkled my nose.
“Okay, a nerdy, bohemian hippy goddess. She grinned. “But I’d do ya.”
I laughed and started walking again. “I had enough doing last month. In fact, I’ve decided I’m going back to my ten-date rule. Coffee then lunch, then―”
“Then a G-rated movie, I know… Just because you had a bad night doesn’t mean that’s going to happen again.”
My jaw fell open. “G-rated? I’m not that bad!”
She laughed and kept on walking. “Okay, PG-13.”
I pushed my glasses to my forehead with my thumb. “Have you seen him at all? Austin I mean?”
She shook her head and glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. “Let’s forget about him. Anyone who walks out on you isn’t worth the time of day. We’ll find you someone better. Someone who knows how to put on his own shoes.”
I laughed then pulled the door open and let her enter the pub before me. But when I stepped inside, I immediately regretted letting Becky decide the location tonight. A man was literally standing on the bar. Literally.
He held a bottle of whiskey in one hand, tequila in the other, and at least a dozen women lined the seats in front of him like fangirls at a concert. He smiled down at them, a smile that was guaranteed to break hearts, and walked down the line, filling the glasses of women who couldn't be much over twenty-one.
“I think I know why the parking lot is so full,” I whispered.
All the women were desperate for his attention, which made me look a little closer. He was good looking, sure, but it wasn’t anything I hadn’t seen before. Short, brown hair, almost buzzed, tall, nice build—nothing that warranted women lusting at his feet.
“I hope that’s not Colin,” I stated.
Becky took my hand and pulled me toward the corner. “No, I don’t know who that is, but he sure is popular.” She raised one brow then led me to a table at the back of the room.
I hopped up on a stool and glared across at her. “Organic beer, she said. You’ll fit right in, she said.”
Becky cringed. “I’m sorry, the atmosphere normally isn’t like this. It must be the Toasted Tuesday thing. Dollar shots.”
“Must be.” I opened the menu, determined to make the best of the night, and scanned their impressive list of organics. “I’m only having one beer, then I really need to get to bed.”
Becky sagged a little and frowned. “Come on, you haven’t been out since the launch party. Just stay until Colin gets off work. I promise you won't turn into a pumpkin.”
I gathered my hair in a ponytail then pulled it over one shoulder. “Okay.” I knew I’d been too much of a hermit lately, and Becky didn’t ask for much. “But as soon as he’s off, I’m going to bed.”
Becky clapped. “Yay. I love you.”
I smiled then peered over her shoulder as a dark-haired man approached our table. “Is that Colin?”
Becky spun in her seat and smiled. “Hey, handsome!” She looped her arm around his waist then turned to face me again. “Colin, this is my friend Tuesday. Tuesday, this is Colin.”
He wiped his fingers on a red towel then held his hand out to shake. “It’s nice to meet you.”
I nodded, but a commotion at the bar drew my attention. The man who was standing on it earlier now had an even larger crowd as he poured drinks from behind it. Three rows deep, mostly women, all standing around as if they were about to win the lottery.
I thought he might be telling some kind of story, because all the women burst into waves of giggles and squeals. I couldn’t help but grin a little myself. He was as animated as a child at Christmas. He kept running his
hand over his head, in that boyish sort of way, and his smile was so joyful you’d think he had a pair of toads in his pockets. But as youthful and playful as his expression, his body sent a completely different message. This man was fully-grown: broad shoulders, corded arms, very tall… Suddenly, I could see what all the fuss was about.
“Can I get you ladies a drink?” Colin asked, startling me back to the table.
Becky narrowed her gaze at me and grinned. “Give her the healthiest, most disgusting thing on the menu, and I’ll have another of those blue things you made me last week.”
I rolled my eyes and looked at the menu. “I’ll take a pint of your organic stout. And don’t listen to Becky. She’s just trying to kill herself with food dyes and GMOs.”
Becky lifted her shoulders. “Eh, I’ll die happy.”
Colin nodded, ignoring our banter as he gathered empties at a nearby table. “Organic Stout and a Blue-eyed Blond. You got it. He flashed Becky a look that said he preferred brunettes, gathered his full tray of bottles, and headed for the back room.
“I thought you were in the foreplay stage,” I said, as he turned the corner.
“We are,” Becky replied, shifting her gaze away.
“Uh huh. Is that why you’re waiting for him until—wait, what time is he off?”
“Midnight.” She cringed. “But I promise you don’t have to stay a minute later than that.”
“Famous last words.” I laughed. “Wait, don’t you have work tomorrow?”
She shrugged, “I’m on hiatus.”
“Nice to be you,” I replied, pulling a tube of lip balm from my bag and smearing it over my mouth. Becky was a makeup artist for the studios, an excellent one who was highly requested, but her work in production meant she had lots of breaks of employment. This break couldn’t have come at a more perfect time.
“So,”—I sat forward in my seat—“the cleaning crew starts tomorrow, construction starts Monday, and I’d really like everything organized before―”
Waiting for Tuesday: Suspicious Hearts Book Two Page 2