Threading the Needle

by Marie Bostwick

  I gave myself up to it, melting into the circle of his arms, leaning in, lifting up, softening my mouth and opening my lips, tasting his tongue with mine. For a few sweet moments, it felt right to forget and safe to remember. And then Jake’s arms angled even lower, his fingers closed tight and his hands slid down and around the swell of my hips, and that spark of desire surged inside me, igniting an ancient and instinctual flame, an elemental longing. My hips rocked forward to meet his without permission or precaution.

  He responded in kind and suddenly my brain reengaged, overriding the careless cravings of biology. I uncoiled my arms from his body and planted my palms on his shoulders to push myself back as hard and far as I could.

  “Stop it,” I gasped.

  Jake frowned, doubting me. I took a step back and dropped my arms to my side, taking in a deep, slow breath through my mouth and exhaling raggedly but deliberately.

  Jake spread out his hands. “Why?”

  “Because I know what happens next. I know where this goes. And I’m not going there again, not ever. Every mistake of my life has begun by tumbling into bed with someone. I like you too much to add you to my list of regrets.”

  He gave me a long, appraising look.

  “Wow. That’s the smoothest brush-off I’ve ever received. Did you make that up as you went along? Or have you been practicing? What comes next? Are you going to tell me you ‘just want to be friends’? Don’t play games with me, Madelyn.”

  “I don’t know what comes next, Jake. I haven’t the slightest idea how all this works. But let me ask you something. Where is the ‘just’ in friends? I’ve never wanted to be friends with a man before, never. Do you know how big a deal that is for me? Up until now I’ve only seen men in terms of what they could do for me or buy for me or get for me. I don’t feel that way about you.”

  “Really? Well, for somebody who wasn’t looking to get anything out of me, you seem to have taken a lot—a newly roofed house, sanded floors, snowplowed driveway, somebody to watch your phones . . .”

  He crossed his arms over his chest defensively. I’d wounded him and so he wanted to wound me back. And he had. His words were cruel and his insinuation was insulting. I’d never have taken that from a man I liked less than Jake, but I did like him. I was only just beginning to realize how much. And so instead of throwing him out of my house and my life, I stood my ground.

  “That’s not fair, Jake. You’ve done a lot for me, much more than I could ever have expected or asked. But everything you did for me—the roof, the discounts, the snowplowing, and all the rest—was your idea and you know it. I never asked you for anything. Even so, I went to some effort to repay you for your unsolicited kindness to me. The muffins? The anniversary getaway for your sister? My insistence that we go dutch on our dinner dates? That was my way of trying to keep our relationship friendly rather than romantic, and I think you know that too. That was the unspoken agreement. In fact, we did speak of it—or you did. Be honest. You understood my concerns. When we started going out to dinner together, you assured me that we were just going as friends, that you weren’t trying to lure me into bed, remember?

  “And I took you at your word, Jake. I was relieved because I value our relationship too much to let it become sexual. Sex always ruins everything.”

  “I see,” he said sharply. “So I should be honored that your feelings toward me are platonic? Now who’s not being honest?”

  He pointed a finger at me, all but poked it into my chest. “You kissed me first, Madelyn. And don’t try to tell me that you didn’t mean anything by it, that you just got carried away. You didn’t give me a peck, or a smooch. That was a kiss, an incredible one. I didn’t know you could kiss like that. You sure didn’t in high school. So don’t try to pretend there’s no sexual spark between us, because we both know it isn’t true.”

  “I didn’t say that,” I retorted, not bothering to let him know I’d been about to say all of those things. People who can demolish your arguments before you even give voice to them are irritating enough; it’s not necessary to let them know how right they are.

  “Of course there’s a sexual attraction between us. We’d hardly be human if there wasn’t. But that doesn’t mean we have to give into it, does it? Remember what you told me about Beth? About waiting for the real thing?”

  “I have been waiting! I didn’t want to pressure you. I’ve been waiting months for you to make a move so I’d know you felt . . .”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, but I was just . . . I lost my mind for a minute, okay? Let’s not ruin a really good thing because I went crazy for thirty seconds. Think about it, Jake. You’ve already had two failed marriages and probably five times as many failed relationships in your life. I’m not that far behind you. Do you really want to add ours to the list?”

  Jake hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans and stared at me for a moment, his posture less defensive but no less angry.

  “It really doesn’t matter what I want, does it? You’ve decided for both of us.”

  “I want to keep being friends, Jake,” I said quietly. “You matter to me.”

  “Yeah? Well, I guess that should make me feel better. But somehow it doesn’t.”

  He pulled his truck keys out of the pocket of his jeans and walked to the door. Before he left, he turned toward me and inclined his head in farewell. Or good-bye?

  It took all my resolve not to run after him, to grab him by the arm and ask him to stay, to kiss him again. But I was resolved. And I was right. Of that I was sure.

  43

  Madelyn

  After Jake left, I had to sit down and collect my thoughts, or rather, control them. I couldn’t take time to think about Jake and me, not just then. Instead, I needed to focus on Tessa. I’d promised to come to the shop and help her get through this last day. She needed me.

  Today of all days, Lee wanted to be there for her, but he’d gotten a call from a man who lived in Chicago and owned three big restaurants in Hartford. He wanted to talk to Lee about supplying his restaurants with microgreens and produce but would only be in town today and insisted they meet. Tessa understood. It was too good an opportunity to pass up, but Lee almost did, until I volunteered to stand in for him.

  I couldn’t let Tessa and Lee down. But I also couldn’t leave the inn unattended for hours at a time. I called Tessa. She took several rings to pick up. In the background, I could hear a murmur of voices. It sounded like she had quite a crowd.

  “Tessa? Jake can’t watch the office, so I can’t leave right now, but I’ll be there just before five.”

  “That’s fine. Don’t worry. I’m too busy to be lonely. Wait a sec, will you?”

  I heard a thump as Tessa put the phone down, then the ring of the cash register, the rustling of bags, and Tessa’s voice thanking her customer and, I thought, nearly reminding her to come again before catching herself. When she came back on the line, her voice was almost a whisper, too soft for the customers to hear.

  “It’s crazy here! I’m knee-deep in bargain hunters. I guess I should be grateful, but still . . . One lady tried to buy my quilt. She took it off the wall without even asking! The vultures are out in force, Madelyn, come to pick the carcass clean.”

  “I can come over sooner if you need me. I’ll find someone to watch the office,” I said, wondering who I could call. Maybe Margot? Or Ivy?

  “No, I’m fine, really. Margot was here at lunch and Ivy is here now. Evelyn’s coming later. She saw the crowd at my door this morning and organized a steady supply of helpers. Abigail came this morning. That was interesting.”

  “I’ll bet,” I said, echoing Tessa’s soft chuckle. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “I’m sure. Besides, I don’t know where I’d put you if you did come now. If there were any more bodies here we’d need lubricant. Gotta run. See you around five.”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Hang in there. I’ve got a bottle of white chilling in the ref
rigerator. I’m bringing it, a corkscrew, and two glasses.”

  “Madelyn,” she sighed, “you are a mind reader.”

  Tessa’s remark about the vultures hadn’t been far off the mark.

  By the time I arrived, carrying a picnic basket over my arm and a bottle of wine in my hand, the shop’s bone-white shelving and display cabinets were nearly empty, picked clean as a Christmas turkey. The crowd of bargain shoppers had dissipated, there being no more bargains left to buy, and Tessa was waiting on one last customer, a woman who was buying up the last four tubes of lip balm, all peppermint flavored.

  “I’m so sorry to see you close,” the woman said. “It’s such a lovely shop.”

  “Thank you,” Tessa replied with a weary smile.

  The woman looked around as Tessa stuffed a shopping bag with purple and lilac tissue paper, then tied the handles closed with a bow of purple, green, and natural raffia.

  I smiled to myself and shook my head. It might be her last customer on her last day in business, but Tessa was going to give this woman (who was getting a seventy percent discount) the same level of service she gave to every customer. She didn’t know another way. No wonder she’d been the teacher’s pet when we were kids.

  “I feel bad that I haven’t been in before,” the woman said, ducking her head. “But my husband has been out of work for more than a year. Shopping hasn’t been on my agenda for a long time. I’m going to save these as birthday gifts for my daughters and daughter-in-law. Just a little something,” she said with an apologetic shrug.

  “You’ve got such a lovely shop,” the woman repeated. “I’m sorry I’m not buying from you under different circumstances. . . .”

  “No need to apologize,” Tessa said. “I’m glad you came in today.” She reached under the counter, pulled out five silvery tubes of hand cream, and slipped them into the woman’s bag. “Here,” she said. “Take these. There’s enough for your daughters and an extra one for you.”

  “But . . . I . . . I don’t,” the woman stammered. “I mean, I can’t . . .”

  “Sure you can.” Tessa glanced at her watch. “There’s still five minutes before closing. That means I’m still the boss around here.”

  “Thank you,” the woman replied, accepting the bag that Tessa held out to her over the counter. “Thank you so much.”

  “You’re welcome. I hope you enjoy it. It’s lavender. My favorite.”

  The woman assured Tessa that she would, thanking her three more times as Tessa escorted her to the door before closing and locking it. The woman waved at Tessa through the display window and Tessa waved back until the woman disappeared around the corner, then froze for a moment, her hand still in the air with fingers splayed, before closing them into a fist and letting her arm drop heavily by her side.

  I walked up and draped my arm across her shoulders. “If you’re going to go out,” I said, “that’s the way to do it—with style.”

  Tessa looked at me and smiled, eyes glistening. “You think?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “She seemed like a nice lady.”

  “She did,” I agreed. “Just like you. You’re a class act, Tessa. What my dad would have called ‘a stand-up broad.’ When it came to women, that was his highest form of praise. Probably explains why he never married.”

  “Thanks, Madelyn. Thanks for coming.”

  She turned and hugged me. I hugged her back, holding on for a long time, not loosening my grip until she did.

  “Now,” I said, rubbing my hands together. “Let’s open that picnic basket, uncork that bottle, and figure out what you’re going to do with the rest of your life.”

  Tessa wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, then laughed. “Is that what’s on tonight’s agenda?”

  “Among other things, my friend. Among other things.”

  44

  Tessa

  “Ilike it better this way,” I said, twisting to take in the empty shelves and counters cleared of objects, the flickering shadows of flame projected onto naked walls warmed by the glow of fifteen candles.

  We’d started with one lavender candle that Madelyn had pulled from the recesses of her basket and set in the center of an old, worn quilt she’d brought for us to sit on during our picnic on the shop floor. Halfway through the bottle of wine, and after cutting into the orange cake she’d baked and decorated with a birthday candle (only one, for which I was grateful), I decided we needed more light, so I got up and lit my remaining stock of vanilla candles. The effect was peaceful and softened the sharp edges of my mood.

  “It’s clean. Simple. Why did I crowd the place with so much stuff? If I’d just displayed a few items at a time, maybe people would have been able to see more. Maybe I would have . . .”

  Madelyn shook her head insistently as she turned her fork backward to lick off a last glob of cream cheese frosting. “The shop was perfect. Your products were fabulous and your service was the best. You didn’t do anything wrong, Tessa. It was just your timing that sucked. End of story.”

  I’d said the same thing to myself a dozen times, but in my heart, I didn’t really believe it. Being a victim of the times seems so capricious. I believe things happen for a reason, that there are lessons to be learned even in hardship, and that even when we can’t see it, there is always a divine plan at work. But I didn’t say any of that to Madelyn.

  “Anyway, the candles look nice.”

  “They do. The older I get, the more I appreciate dim light.”

  I clinked my glass against Madelyn’s. “Can you believe we’re about to celebrate another birthday? I thought I’d be smarter by now. Or that I’d at least know what I want to be when I grow up. Seems a little late to be reinventing myself again. And a little pathetic, don’t you think?”

  Madelyn rolled her eyes. “Will you quit feeling so sorry for yourself? If you insist on continuing to look at this as a failure, then it will be. But if you choose to look at it as an opportunity, then it will be. It’s your choice.”

  “Did you read that somewhere? Or are you just making this up as you go along?”

  Madelyn arched her left eyebrow, the way she does when she’s pretending to be mad. “That’s the second time I’ve been asked that today.”

  “I know. I was just teasing you,” I said. “But, really, what are you going to do about Jake?”

  “I already told you—nothing. I wasn’t wrong and I was telling him the truth. He’ll either decide to believe me or not. Quit trying to change the subject. We were talking about you. What do you want to be when you grow up? I mean, were you really happy working in the shop all day? Because, knowing you like I do, I can’t quite see it.”

  “Why?” I asked, bristling a little. “I was pretty good at retail.”

  Madelyn lifted her hands. “I didn’t mean it that way. I know you were good at it, but did you like it? Seems to me you’re happiest when you’re out in your garden, not cooped up inside a store.”

  She had a point.

  Working in the shop had been fun at first, but as time wore on, and especially as the dreamed-of crush of customers failed to appear, I’d begun to resent the long, lonely hours spent dusting shelves and rearranging stock.

  “I don’t know. I think what I really wanted was the chance to grow the herbs and create the products. That’s the fun part. But I also wanted to share them with people.

  “Like this,” I said, picking up the center candle. “When I’ve had a rotten day, walking into a room that smells of lavender, or treating myself to a hot shower with a bar of bergamot and lime soap, or rubbing on lemongrass body lotion makes me feel like things aren’t so bad. Peppermint hand cream can’t cure a broken heart, but if I can make things that give ordinary people a little bit of luxury, a moment’s pleasure . . . I wasn’t looking to make a lot of money, just a living. And doing so while helping people enjoy life a little more.”

  I shrugged. “I know that probably sounds silly.”

  “No.” Madelyn rocked forward
so she could reach the wine bottle and refill my glass and then hers, tipping the bottle high to make sure none of it was wasted. “Just the opposite. I think that sounds very wise.”

  She grinned, reached out to break a crumbly piece of cake off with her fingers.

  “And I say that because, believe it or not, I feel exactly the same. Ha! Wouldn’t Gene Janders be surprised to hear that? Sterling too.”

  She looked up at the ceiling, as if Sterling’s ghost might be found hovering above, and announced in a loud voice, “But it’s true! I, Madelyn Beecher Baron, the gold digger’s gold digger, the most mercenary of the mercenary, have come to a clichéd but important realization: Money doesn’t buy happiness.”

  She popped the piece of cake into her mouth and looked at me with a “how do you like that” expression.

  “True, but it does come in handy now and then.” I sighed. “Now that the shop is closed, I suppose I should look for a job.”

  “I thought you were going to help Lee on the farm?”

  “Yes, but he doesn’t need much help right now, not until the weather warms up. If I could bring in some money, even a little bit, it’d be a big help. Plus, I need something to do with myself. I’ve always worked.”

  Madelyn looked thoughtful as she licked frosting from her fingers.