by Thea Dawson
Not that he’d been able to express that to her. As much as he’d wanted to tell her how much their night had meant to him and to let her know gently that he just wasn’t ready for anything more, the sight of her in the kitchen wearing his robe and making him coffee and the shy, hopeful look on her face had thrown him into a state that he could only call panic. He’d been seized by a desire to escape the entire situation, to get out of the house and away from the whole, messy, awkward encounter as quickly as possible. He’d wanted to run as far and fast as he could, and he’d made a complete hash of talking to Celia in the process. He hadn’t even stopped to give Peyton a hug.
Yet another woman he owed an apology to.
He glared at a stack of term papers that needed grading, tempted to sweep the entire pile to the floor. He grabbed one and tried to read it, but quickly realized that he’d end up giving the entire class F’s if he graded them in his current state of mind. He threw it back on his desk. The papers would just have to be handed back late.
It was high time for a teaching assistant. Actually, it was no longer optional. Once he started working with Susan, he simply wouldn’t have the time to do everything he was doing now.
He rubbed his temples. Somewhere in his office there was a bottle of aspirin. He rummaged through a couple of desk drawers before he found it and gratefully swallowed a couple.
He stared pointlessly at the pile of essays. Susan ... The thought of her had triggered something and an idea was slowly dawning on him. It was a long shot, and it wouldn’t make up for treating Celia so badly, but if it worked, then it might at least ease his conscience slightly.
He picked up his phone.
Running on autopilot, Celia fed Rowan and Rosie lunch and put them down for naps, after which she sat on the living room couch and stared at the dust motes that filtered through a shaft of sunlight. She had an assignment due soon for Paul’s class, groceries to unpack, laundry to do. She was exhausted and would have happily taken a nap herself, but an odd, edgy energy seemed to run through her veins like an extra shot of espresso. Sleep was out of the question.
There was a knock at the door. Pulling herself off the couch, she made her way to the door. Tracie stood on the small porch, her face anxious.
“Are you all right? Oh gosh, I can tell you’re not. Can I come in? What happened?” She stepped across the threshold.
“How do you know something happened?” Celia shut the door behind her.
“You know how intuitive I am,” Tracie said. “And yeah, I can see it. Your energy is way off. It’s all, like, jagged and leaning to one side. And red. Which probably means you’re angry about something. Like, really angry.”
Celia resisted rolling her eyes. She shook her head. “I’m not angry. I just had ... a disappointment, I guess you could say.”
Tracie studied her then made an abrupt lunge for the door. “Sit down, I’ll be right back.”
Celia sank back down onto the couch as Tracie’s footsteps thudded against the wooden steps outside. True to her word, in a few minutes, she was back, a canvas bag over one shoulder. “I’m going to make some tea. Why don’t you come into the kitchen and talk to me?”
Celia followed her obediently into the kitchen and sat listlessly down at the table. For all Tracie’s silliness, it was comforting to have someone looking after her. A few minutes later, Tracie set a mug of tea down in front of her.
“I want you to drink all of it. It has healing properties.”
“I’m not sick,” Celia objected.
Tracie raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Maybe not physically. What happened?”
Celia took a sip of the tea and grimaced. It tasted horrible. Given the choice between drinking it and talking, it was easy to spill her guts to the attentive Tracie. Celia shared it all: her weeks of attraction to Richard, his moments of rudeness and his gestures of thoughtfulness, her jealousy over Susan, the incredible night she and Richard had spent together, and the humiliating morning after. Already the passion they’d shared seemed distant—could it only have been last night?—but his abrupt coldness that morning seemed close enough to choke her.
“Keep drinking,” Tracie said gently when she finally wound down. “I know it’s disgusting, but it’ll strengthen your immune system and help cleanse your heart chakra.”
Whatever. Celia gulped down the bitter tea, trying not to gag. Maybe the tea worked by being so nasty that the drinker wouldn’t be able to think of anything else. “I just feel so stupid,” she mumbled into the cup.
Tracie closed her eyes and tapped her fingers rhythmically against the table for a moment. She opened her eyes again. “No. You say you feel stupid, but you’re just repressing your anger.”
Celia frowned at the bitter tea. Tracie was trying to be sweet, and Celia appreciated it, but she was in no mood to be psychoanalyzed, especially by someone who kept a goat in her laundry room. “I think I just have terrible luck when it comes to men,” she replied. “My track record’s pretty bad.”
“No, no, no!” Tracie leaned forward across the table. “If you say you always have bad luck with men, then you will. It’s the law of attraction.”
“I can’t really say I’ve had good luck with them.” Celia put the mug down with a thump. “I know you never met Brad, but he was a raging alcoholic who wrapped his car around a tree and left his family high and dry. And I don’t know what Richard’s problem is. I don’t know if he was always a jerk or if his wife just did an unholy number on him, but somehow I got caught in the middle of it.”
“This is good. We’re starting to get to the root of the anger.”
“I’m not angry!” Celia snapped. “I’m tired and humiliated—isn’t that enough?”
Tracie studied her, a small, sympathetic smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “It would be enough to make you angry, wouldn’t it?”
Celia picked up the mug and put it down again before throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Fine. Yes, it pisses me off. I’m angry that my husband let his addiction come before his family, and I’m angry that Richard—” She stopped. What was it about Richard that had really upset her? Tracie looked at her expectantly. “I thought … I thought Richard and I had a connection,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “I guess I’m angry at him for not feeling what I felt. And I’m angry at myself.”
“Why are you angry at yourself?”
Celia looked out the window into the muddy backyard. “I don’t know ... for getting my hopes up.”
“With Richard? Or with Brad?”
Celia shrugged. “Does it matter? Maybe it’s not even them. Maybe I’m pissed because I thought at this point in my life, things would be better. I thought I’d have a decent income and a nice house and a husband who loved me. Instead I’m making minimum wage stocking shelves, and I’m counting every penny, and I’m having a one-night stand with my boss. And I can blame Brad, or Richard, or my parents, or whatever, but at the end of the day, it’s still my fault I’m here. I should just finish out this semester and move back to Redmond. And yeah, I’m angry.”
Tracie drew in a long breath. “This is good stuff, Celia. You’re starting to recognize all the blocks you have to abundance, to love, to security. And once you realize they’re there, you can start unblocking yourself.”
Celia let her face fall into her hand to hide her expression. She didn’t want to be rude, but Tracie’s sweet, silly new-age talk was grating on her nerves—and that vile tea hadn’t helped.
“Already, I’m feeling things start to shift in your energy,” Tracie went on. “Can you feel it?”
Face still buried, Celia shook her head.
“Maybe not yet, but you will,” Tracie promised. “That anger needed to be acknowledged, and now that you’re aware of it, I think you’re going to start seeing some changes. Just make sure you keep talking to it so you don’t get blocked again.”
“Fine,” Celia sighed. She did feel mildly better for having gotten some things off her chest, but sh
e didn’t really see much hope for things to change—at least, not in a good way. The day’s only silver lining was that she didn’t have to go to Richard’s tonight and wouldn’t have to see him again until Monday. Hell, maybe he’d decide it was too awkward having her around and fire her. That would at least alleviate the issue of seeing him again.
“And forgiveness, Celia.” Tracie looked at her earnestly. “You’re not truly going to move on until you’ve forgiven the people who’ve hurt you.”
“Right. Forgiveness.” Celia was not in a forgiving mood, but she was too tired to argue. She pushed back her chair. “Would you mind staying here with Rowan and Rosie until I get back? I’ve to go get Lily from school.”
Tracie nodded and Celia left.
13
Despite everything, Celia slept deeply and woke up on Saturday morning feeling physically refreshed, though still fragile emotionally. She carefully examined her memories of the day before: still painful, still humiliating, but not as bad as they had been. Her talk with Tracie and a good night’s sleep had at least given her some perspective. At least she didn’t have to see Richard until Monday evening. Maybe never again if he decided it was too awkward having her around and found an excuse to let her go …
And would it be terrible if he did?
Maybe not.
With a sigh, she pulled herself out of bed and went to check on the kids. Rosie was up, chattering quietly to Rowan through the bars of his crib as he stared at her, listening intently as if he understood every word of the made-up story she was telling him. Lily was still fast asleep, curled up amongst her stuffed animals like a little mouse. Despite everything, Celia smiled. Life was a long way from perfect, but as long as the kids were safe and happy, she could get through whatever it threw at her.
Leaving the children, she slipped downstairs to make breakfast. Sunlight illuminated the linoleum counter, and outside the window clouds raced across a bright blue sky. It didn’t cheer her up, exactly, but at least it was better than the dreary rain that had matched yesterday’s mood so well. She would have liked nothing more than to make a cup of coffee and curl back up in bed with it, but since the kids would be down soon, she focused on making eggs and toast. She’d get them dressed and they’d go for a walk. Maybe they could spend the morning at the library until it was time for lunch and naps.
The kids were at the table and she’d just strapped Rowan into his high chair when the phone rang. Eva. She almost let it go to voice mail but picked it up at the last second.
“Hi, Eva.” Her voice sounded distracted and distant, even to her, but instead of asking what was wrong, Eva responded in a brisk, businesslike voice, quite unlike her usual warm, gossipy tone.
“Good morning, Celia. I hope I’m not disturbing you. Listen, I’m in my office with a client who’s just signed the lease on a space downtown. She’ll be opening up a coffee shop in a few weeks. I happened to mention that you did graphic design, and she’d love to talk to you. She’s going to be needing business cards, menus and a logo. Would you be free this morning to talk with her?”
Celia blinked. “I—um, sure. Yes, yes, I’d love to. What time? And where?”
“We’re actually heading over to the space right now. It’s the empty retail space on the west side of Main Street between Ash and Birch. Do you think you could meet us there in about ... half an hour?”
Celia grimaced, casting an eye over her pajama-clad children. She herself was still in her robe. But she knew the store Eva was talking about, and it was only about a five-minute walk. “I’ve got the kids ...”
“Oh, I totally understand!” Eva went on in that cheery fake voice. “Just bring them along. I can look after them while you and Merilee talk.”
“Forty-five minutes okay?”
“Wonderful!” Eva hung up.
Nothing like a tight deadline for a broken heart, Celia thought to herself as she rushed the kids through breakfast and into their clothes. She swiped on some makeup and ran a comb and some mousse through her hair before dropping Rowan and Rosie into their double stroller, ordering Lily into her coat, and grabbing her own best jacket and her nice boots. They weren’t particularly comfortable, but they looked more professional than the beat-up sneakers she usually wore. She glanced at herself in the hallway mirror, decided she looked presentable enough, then made a dive for her laptop at the last minute so she could show off her portfolio if needed before hustling the kids out the door.
With only a few minutes to spare, they walked quickly down the street. Lily, still sleepy, grumbled about being old enough to stay home by herself, and Rosie fretted when she realized she’d forgotten Piggie. But despite the rush and the complaining children, Celia felt her mood start to recover. Action was what she had needed, not a morning spent feeling sorry for herself. At the back of her mind was the knowledge that she’d have to face up to Richard sooner or later, but for now she was grateful to have a distraction. She took deep breaths of the cool air to clear her head and tried to put herself in a positive frame of mind to meet Eva’s client.
A few minutes later, Eva introduced her quickly to Merilee Porter before whisking the children out of the restaurant with the promise of a trip to the bakery around the corner. Celia gratefully let them go.
“I’m so happy to meet you! I couldn’t believe it when Eva said she knew a graphic designer and that you lived just around the corner. Thank you so much for coming out on such short notice, and on a weekend!”
Merilee had the face of a Victorian porcelain doll and the personality of an Irish setter. Curly dark brown framed a heart-shaped face highlighted by two big brown eyes and a cupid bow mouth. She was a few inches shorter than Celia but managed to pack a lot of energy into her petite frame.
“Welcome to the Riverfront Café!” Merilee waved her hand around the empty shop. “So, coffee shop, obviously. And we’ll have an amazing selection of tea as well. I’m also going to have a selection of second hand books that people can read here or buy and take with them. But I’m going for quite a modern look—we’ll have blond-wood tables and chairs. I picked this place because it gets such great sunlight and I loved that it was right on the river. I’m not into those cozy dark cafes, I want this to feel very light and open.”
Celia nodded, looking around the rather dusty space. She admired Merilee’s vision for it. “And who—?”
Merilee nodded as if she already knew what Celia was going to ask. “I’m sure I’ll get students, of course, but I want to be sure I appeal to a more ... grown-up set of customers. I had a coffee shop in Seattle for a while, and frankly, undergraduates don’t spend enough money for the table space they take up. I’m going for professors, administrators, yuppies, suburban moms ... We’ll have some baked goods and pre-made sandwiches. I’d like to bring in the light-lunch crowd.”
“Gotcha. You’ve done this before, then?” Celia was relieved to hear about the previous coffee shop. Statistically, the odds of Merilee’s coffee shop staying in business more than a year were slim, but she had a good location, and if she had real experience as well, she stood a chance of succeeding.
“Oh yeah. I had some issues with my, um, business partner, and decided it was time to go out on my own.” Merilee’s exuberant energy slowed just long enough for Celia to wonder if she’d touched on something sensitive, but she picked up again immediately. “So how does this work? I bought out the last coffee shop from a previous owner, so it came with all its own branding, and I never really had to worry about it. But it’s important to me that I get this right because I have a very specific idea in my mind of the atmosphere I want to create.”
“Perfect,” said Celia, trying to inject a tone of confidence into her voice, though her heart was starting to beat loudly. “First of all, here’s my card with my website. You can go online and see my portfolio and get a sense of some of the things I’ve done. Next, I’ll ask you to fill out a questionnaire about your business and your customers. It sounds like we should probably start with estab
lishing your brand identity, like the logo and colors, first, then we can move on to things like business cards and menus.”
“I love this card,” Merilee mused as she turned it over in her hands. “Do you do websites?” she asked suddenly.
“I design websites,” Celia said, trying not to sound excited. “I could build one as long as it’s simple. If you needed anything high tech, I could suggest some people to work with.” She didn’t actually know of anyone off hand, but she was pretty sure Paul would be able to put her in touch with someone.
“Oh perfect!” said Merilee. “It doesn’t have to be anything fancy. Just a single page with hours and an address is really all I need. Maybe some pictures. Oh my gosh, you sound like a godsend. I’m completely at sea for stuff like this. But I do have to tell you,” she looked a little sheepish, “I don’t have a huge budget.”
“I’m sure we can work something out.” Celia was almost tempted to work for free—a local store would be a great addition to her portfolio, which consisted so far of only her academic work and Tracie’s logo—but the only way she was getting an A in Paul’s class was if she got paid. “We could start with just the basic branding, and then work our way up to doing the website and the menus. You don’t need to commit all at once.”
“I was right, you are a godsend,” Merilee announced firmly. “I’m opening in a month, and I’ll need at least a few things in hand before then, like the menus, so I know it’s a bit of a tight deadline ...” She looked hopefully at Celia.
“I’m sure I can fit you in,” Celia assured her, maintaining her composure with difficulty. Inside she wanted to scream with excitement.