by Tonya Kappes
Henry bounces between Lucy and I, as we both try to retain his attention. Lucy concedes and goes up stairs while I bathe in doggie licks.
“Wilson?” I scream through the floor vent between kisses.
“Welcome back.” Wilson creeps around the door from the kitchen. “You don’t have to yell.” He points to Henry and starts to pat the furry white poodle. “I hope you don’t mind. I took him to the groomer.”
Henry jumps from my arms to follow Wilson back to the kitchen as I lag behind.
Wilson’s voice changes into doggie voice, “He loved it, and he was such a good boy. He is so handsome. Isn’t he, momma?”
Wilson picks Henry up and lets him smoother him in kisses. There definitely had to be some male bonding going on over the weekend.
“Momma?” I take Henry out of his arms.
I can’t believe it. Pink or not, I’m actually happy to see the little fellow.
Week Five
Happiness is a handful of beads.
Author Unknown
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Hallie, line one.” Beatrice buzzes the phone. I set aside the buying catalog for the spring collection. Usually I fold down the pages of the items I want and most certainly can’t afford. This time I’m not even looking for that, I’m folding pages down making note of color creations for Beadnicks bracelets.
“This is Hallie.” I haphazardly answer the phone.
The new color schemes for the fall season will make great bracelets.
“I hope you’re settled now.”
My heart stops when it hits the pit in my stomach. Never in my wildest dreams did I really think he’d find me here, and a smile appears across my face once I realize the effort he had to make.
“Hallie?”
“Bo! Hi how are you?” I try to keep my voice from squeaking. “Yes, yes. I am settled.”
“Good. I’m still running and people are still coming out to the bar.”
“That’s great.”
My heart is pounding so hard, I’m afraid he can hear the thud through the phone.
Breathe, Hallie.
“How’s the store?”
“Boutique.” I correct him.
“Oh. Well, how’s the boutique?”
“Better than I could’ve imagined.”
What is up with all the small talk? Go ahead, ask me to marry you. I can forgive him for being with Piper, as a lapse of judgment on his part. Everyone deserves a second chance. Right?
“I’m coming to Cincy for a meeting and I thought we can hang out. I mean…if that’s okay?”
“When?” My head reels with a million ideas.
“This weekend.” The silence is deafening between the lines. “I know it’s not much notice, but I just found out.”
I flip my calendar to find an empty two days off, but I’m supposed to work on Beadnicks. I would’ve killed for this a few weeks ago. While he’s gone to his meeting, I can work on beading.
“Sure, this weekend is great.” I rub my hands along my hair not sure if I’m happy, nervous or both.
“Super. Email me directions, and I’ll be there by noon on Saturday.”
“Okay.” I note it on my calendar as if it isn’t already burnt on my brain. “See you Saturday.”
“And Hallie?” Bo catches me just before I hang up and start doing the Snoopy dance.
“Yes?” I bit my bottom lip. Is he already backing out?
“I’m looking forward to seeing you.”
Why? Why’d he say that? I don’t understand why he’s telling me all this right now. He’s had the last couple of years to figure this out and now that I don’t live near him, he decides to get personal.
I dwell on his last words the entire week. It’s hard to stay focused at work, home, and beading, so I went through my routine until B-day came.
B-day is what Beatrice and I called Bo’s arrival. It’s hard to concentrate when I say his name, and using the code name made it seem more like a mission then actually seeing Bo.
On B-day, my morning run definitely doesn’t help my jitters. It only makes them worse. Thinking about Bo, and what might happen on his visit, turns my mind a big fat mosh pit. I trip over every pebble and crack. With my last tumble, I decide to stop at One Bead at a Time and check on the debut of Beadnicks.
“Good morning.” Dee chimed over the teenagers she’s working with.
She’s showing them how to make chandelier earrings, which I can’t even do—yet. I look over her shoulder watching her manipulate the pliers in one hand and the pins in the other.
“I thought you’re having a guest today?” Her voice rose an octave. She rolls her eye, “Teenagers.”
She better not let them get under her skin, they are the majority of her business.
“They come in here wanting to make the next cool thing and they can’t focus long enough to string one bead. And look they’re too busy texting instead of listening.”
“They are our future.” I nod toward the young girl, at the counter, trying on a couple different Beadnicks bracelets.
She has them layered up and down her arm. I walk over, not only to see if I can answer any question, but see how amazing they look on her.
“What do you think?” I wonder and hope she tells me the truth.
I’ve always heard teenagers don’t have a problem telling how they feel, or speaking their mind. I want to know exactly what’s going through her head. I know that I love them, but can my designs hold up to the American teenage-girl standards? In theory, if they like it, it’s trendy and ready to take off.
“Really?” She seems surprised that I’d be interested in her opinion.
“Really.” I don’t want to tell her I made them. I want a real hand-to-God answer.
The girl points from one bracelet to the next. “Love this one. This one is kinda for older people, you know, like, in their thirties, and I love this one.”
OMG! Only three are left on the display. I look under the counter where I put my extra cards to find … nothing. Not even a card. I glance back at Dee, who’s got a huge-ass grin on her face and mouths, “I told you so.”
“As a matter of fact, my friend came in here and bought this really cool bracelet.” She put the two “love this one” bracelets on her wrist. “I came in here hoping to just buy one, and decided to make some earrings.”
She doesn’t look at me—after all, who am I to her—because she’s too busy admiring my creative designs.
“What did the bracelet look like?” I lean in a little closer, not wanting to miss a detail.
She walks around the store looking at all the different beads. She carefully inspects each basket. “These.”
She picks up a handful of funky beads with spikes all over them. I made a couple in different colors that I thought would be perfect for summer.
“Great. Pick out what you want and I’ll make you one for twenty dollars.” I turn, not bothering to take in her shocked expression now that she knows I’m the designer, and I pick up the bead board. I got a few scrap materials I know Dee won’t mind. I watch the teenager pick out several different beads. I have to make the bracelet perfect.
The summer colors she picks matches her cutoff jeans, tanks and flip-flops. With twenty more dollars in the register and a new design in my head, I realize two hours have passed without a single thought about Bo, or his impending visit.
“I’ll be back later.” I yell out to Dee, who’s bent over, helping another future beader. “I have a couple ideas with stretchy cord.”
Because I lost time, I have to jog back and immediately get ready for Bo, only I can’t get the new designs out of my head. Quickly, I jot down my ideas.
My skinny jeans with my white tapestry hippie blouse, is casual and cute. Minimal makeup and my tassel hair are my best accessories. Well, maybe my seven-millimeter sterling silver ball beaded bracelet I throw together is the best accessory.
When a car door shuts, I pull back the curtain to peek at the mo
st beautiful man I’ve ever laid my eyes on. I stop myself from flinging the door open and running out to profess how much I’ve missed running behind that perfectly shaped head of his.
Henry jumps up and down yipping. He’s protecting me. How cute.
“Gorgeous.” Bo yells from the car.
My heart flutters. I did clean my ears with Q-Tips so I know I heard him. He just called me gorgeous. Which is not the same as beautiful.
Gorgeous is showily brilliant, where beautiful is generally pleasing. I prefer gorgeous.
“Where did you get that gorgeous poodle?” Bo grabs Henry out of my arms. “My mom bred poodles when I was a child.” He’s letting Henry shower him with doggie kisses.
I glare at Henry. Traitor.
“Yes, he is gorgeous.” There is something endearing about a grown man—a hot grown man—letting a little poodle lick him like that.
Bo follows me up the stairs to the extra bedroom—Lucy’s bedroom. She’s in Mason Crossing, like I knew she would be.
For the first time ever, Bo and I are alone.
“It’s good to see you, Hallie.” His voice was thick and steady. “Are you still training for our marathon?”
Our marathon? He thinks of the marathon as our marathon.
“I run every day. I miss our morning runs. I mean, I miss running with people.” I stammer. “You know, the company.”
An awkward pause falls between us.
“So you didn’t miss me?” His hazel eyes twinkle as his lip curls.
“Of course I missed your comments on how I’m not running to the best of my potential.” I bat my eyes in his direction. “Ouch.” I rub my eyes.
I had no clue batting eyes can be dangerous for your health.
“Let me see.” He walks over, tilts my head and uses his finger to find the eyelash that’s ruining my sexy look. “There it is.”
We both examine the teensy tiny eyelash on the tip of his finger. “Make a wish.”
I wish as hard as I can. I close my eyes, and strain my brain to come up with the best wish.
“What?” His brows drew together in an agonizing expression. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I assure him. “Everything is great.”
It is. I realize that my life and decisions no longer revolve around Bo and running or Gucci. It’s revolving around my passions to make a future for myself. And if the utterly and ridiculously handsome Bo fits into the equation, so much the better.
My wish was about beading. This three months away isn’t so bad after all.
“I can’t wait to hear about, but I have to get going after I freshen up.” He walks into the guest bedroom.
“What.” He stops me before I go downstairs. “Did Georgia tell you I saw her at the club?”
Did she tell you?” Of course she did! She’s one of my best friends! Duh! Girls before guy!
“She might’ve mention something in passing, but I can’t recall. I’ve been so busy,” I spoke in a broken whisper.
I don’t want to lie to him, but I don’t want him to know I’ve actually been avoiding him to keep my own heart safe.
He looks disappointed. “We can talk later.”
“Come on, Henry!” I yell for him to leave Bo alone.
“Wait.” Bo commands, again. “Did she happen to say anything about a note?”
Henry wiggled around, trying to get out of my arms.
“I told her about the note I wrote you.” He watches me closely. “I told her to have you call me.”
“A note?” I pick up Henry’s ball and throw it down the stairs.
He can’t resist a good ball throw, and darts down the stairs after it.
“I would like to talk to you over dinner.” he said uncompromising, yet in a gentle way.
There’s no getting around this, and I need to hit it head on, crash or not.
“Sure. When did you send me a note?”
Playing dumb is beginning to feel like second skin.
“Your last night in Chicago when I took you home. I left a note on your pillow.”
“You did?” I avoid Bo by picking up Henry’s ball he dropped at my feet, and throw it again.
“Yes.” He replied with heavy irony.
“Huh. Maybe it’s still there.” I’m not about to confess how I take it out, on occasion, rub my hands over it, and analyze every curve, dot, cross and line. “Dinner. Dinner is good.”
I play with Henry while Bo gets ready for his meeting with a new beer company. Well actually it’s Cincinnati’s own Hudepohl-Schoenling Brewing Company. They brought back Burger Beer after hiatus. He’s going to meet with the execs, to strike a deal to sell it in his bar.
The smells of Gucci men’s cologne floats down the stairs and into the family room. I know that scent anywhere. I have to wonder if Piper gave it to me.
Regroup, regroup I remind myself.
“Hey, where’d you get the fu-fu juice?” I want to see if he’ll tell me the truth.
“That Piper chick you work with.” He jogs down the steps.“You should recognize it.”
I want to run upstair, grab the eighty-dollar cologne, and slam it up against the wall. I’ve never wanted to hurt anything Gucci, but today I want to kill that bottle.
“Yes, I thought I recognize the smell.” I turn around so he can’t see the disappointment in my face, and pick Henry up.
“I’m outta here.” He flashes his signature smile and flips his hair to the side. “Wish me luck”
Henry jumps out of my arms, and runs to Bo. His tail wagging. I’m sure if someone takes a picture of me running behind Bo, I’d look exactly like Henry.
As soon as his rental car turn the corner, I run as fast as I can up to Lucy’s room and rummage through his bag. Surely there’s something from Piper in there. She knows I’ll be with him, and she knows I’ll go through his bag.
If I were her, I would’ve slipped a pair of naughty undies or a sleazy note in his bag. Then again, if I were her, I wouldn’t have let him go in the first place. Unless he didn’t tell her was going. Or staying with me.
Nothing. I dig a little deeper to make sure there’s no hidden compartment. I find his Sunday running shirt and lift it up to the light.
“Oh, how I’ve missed you.” I bury my face in the shirt and take a deep breath.
Ah. His smell. That’s something you can’t bottle, and I love it.
I look around to make sure no one is looking, not even Henry. I slip it over my head and trot to my bedroom with shirt flying in the wind. If he doesn’t miss his Wednesday shirt, he isn’t going to miss his Sunday shirt.
Chapter Twenty-Six
With the shirt tucked neatly in my drawer, I walk back down to One Bead at a Time. I had a few of the bracelets I made throughout the week to drop off, plus a few business cards.
The afternoon class is full of teenage girls. Their laughter fills the space. Dee’s twinkle in her eye says it all.
“Look what your bracelets dragged in,” She says.
The teenager who gave me a few new ideas earlier that morning, is in the huddle of girls. She whispers a couple things in the ear of the twiggy teen next to her and waves.
I wave back. I find her endearing, even though she drives Dee crazy.
“Hallie, I brought my friends in to make a bracelet.” All the girls look up and wave with smiles on all their faces. She plays with the Beadnicks bracelet on her wrist. “They love what we put together. Do you want to help us?”
“Sure.” I go over and see what they’ve started on, and gather a few other beads I think will accent what they already have.
Dee takes my latest bracelets and Beadnicks cards. She inspects them and hangs them on the display. “Nice designs.”
A few of the girls start looking through them, and by the end of the hour, all my bracelets are gone again.
“Maybe I do like teenagers.” Dee smiles over her coffee cup.
Each girl puts all sorts of wacky designs together.
“Yo
u better like them. They’ve made us some money today.” I glance at the gaggle of gals oohing and ahhing over each other’s bracelets. “I need more supplies.”
“You’re going to wipe me out.” She says, and drop beading catalogs on the counter.
My eyes are going to pop out of their sockets with their own excitement as they graze over what graces each page.
“I know. I know. Those catalogs are precious to me, but it’s time you start to order your own things. We’ll keep a spreadsheet of all the bracelets you sell, all the items you order, and we’ll settle up every two weeks. Sound good?”
I concur without speaking a word. I’m not about to ruin this moment.
“Now tell me about Bo.” Dee is settles up with the teenagers.
Briefly, I tell her about the situation with Bo, all the way to the shirt.
“You’re full of it.” She can’t believe I took the shirt.
“Listen, I’ve been running behind him for a good part of two years solid and I miss his smell. Besides, it’s a smelly t-shirt he won’t miss.” I grab up the catalogs.
Speaking of Bo, I’ve got to go get ready for dinner.”
“Dinner? Where?” She leans over the counter with peaking curiosity.
Obviously Bo will enjoy a blues bar. Immediately, the Southgate House, just over the river in Kentucky, pops into my mind. It’s not too far, and a fun experience.
It’s a cool mansion built in the 1800s with loads of history. The remodeled historical landmark is a great music venue for national and local bands—perfect for Bo’s interests and for a first visit to Cincy.
The Ballroom is a cool two-story, horseshoe balcony with a full bar that’s used for larger bands. I think it’d be great for him to hear our local blues band, The Mean Street Band.
They happen to be playing in the Parlour Room of the Southgate House. The Parlour Room has the best seat in the house. It’s an intimate venue for local bands to get up close and personal with their fans. And intimate enough for Bo and I to accidently rub up against one another.
“Hallie, look.” Dee dangles spectacular grey hematite beads in the air.
“Can I have them?” I beg, snatching them like a thief. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking? I can make something really cool for tonight. Elegant, even.”