At that, there are smiles and congratulations. Non-dairy creamer isn’t exactly banking or oil wells, but money is money to these gals.
Once the dishes are cleared and the pink champagne poured, Mama says, “Emmie, why don’t you open up your gifts?”
I hadn’t expected this to be a baby shower, but apparently, I was the only one, because the gift table is loaded down. After settling in on a chair with Faye happily cooing beside me in her carrier, I open a small bag first. Inside is a Tiffany-blue box with a sterling silver rattle in it. It weighs so much Faye might give herself a concussion if she accidentally hits herself on the head with it.
There are more darling dresses than I can bother counting. Each has the baby’s giant initials embroidered across the front. The whole club must have gotten the memo about monograms being back in style. There’s a diaper bag, a silver baby cup, and even a clothes hamper in the shape of an elephant. I wind up opening Cootie’s gift last. It’s a rather large oblong box that weighs too much to be a baby blanket.
Once I unwrap it and take the lid off, I’m positively speechless. Cootie Wilcox bought me a wooden shelf with three little canvas drawers. They say “Coupons, More Coupons, and Bills.” What in the actual hell?
When I look at her for clarification, she explains, “Being that you’re the head of your own household, I figured this would come in handy.”
Before I can throw the thing at her, Faye squawks, and Mama stands to signal that the party is over. “Why, ladies, thank you so much for helping us celebrate today. I’m sure you’ll understand that we need to head home to get Faye down for her nap.”
As the other guests stand to leave, I notice Cootie’s dress. It has bright red zig-zagging streak running down the bottom half. Mama looks too, and declares loud enough for everyone to hear, “Good heavens, Cootie, I think your time of month has arrived!” Now I know what Mama was doing under the table.
The Ketchup War has begun.
Chapter Fifteen
Mama and Auntie Lee nearly bust a gut laughing after Cootie runs out of the room followed by her posse. Mama says, “You know she’s gonna try to get even now.”
“I think she already did,” Auntie Lee says. “Did you see that horrible gift she gave Emmie? Of all the nerve!”
“At least the other ladies brought nice things,” I say, trying not to add fuel to their fire.
“Good thing, too,” Auntie Lee says. “Otherwise we’d have had to declare war on them, too.”
I look between my two relatives and accuse, “You two are enjoying this, aren’t you?”
Mama answers, “Damn straight. I’ve been waiting for the right opportunity to bring that woman down a peg or two. And just so you know, I’m ready for whatever she does to retaliate.”
“You and me both, sister,” Auntie Lee says, and gives Mama a high five followed by a little shimmy and a fist bump. It’s a move they’ve definitely executed before. One that required rehearsal.
I look around and ask, “How in the world are we going to get all this stuff out to the car? I guess if you’ll sit in here with Faye, I can start running it out.”
They’re more than happy to let me as they’re already hard at work hatching their next plot. I fold up all the dresses and put them in the elephant hamper. Then I tuck a few picture frames and other knickknacks around the sides, before hoisting my load.
It was a nice tea for the most part, and Faye made out like a bandit. The hamper is so cumbersome, I stagger out of the dining room into the foyer. I shift my load a bit, so it doesn’t slip out of my arms. As I do so, I lose sight of where I’m walking and wind up veering into the path of oncoming traffic. I run smack into Zach Grant and lose control of the hamper.
He reaches out to help me catch it before everything flies out willy-nilly. He’s not quite fast enough. Instead of catching it, he rescues me. I fall into his arms instead of on the ground where gravity was sending me, and my-oh-my does it feel nice. I get a whiff of his spicy scent and I suddenly feel like a badger in heat.
I’m about to lean into him, and maybe even climb him like a tree, when I hear someone clearing their throat next to us. A decidedly female voice says, “I’m pretty sure you can stand on your own now, Emmeline.”
I look up straight into the eyes of Shelby Wilcox. She’s a pretty version of her mother, but she still has Cootie’s nasty look about her. I push myself away from Zach and say, “Why, Shelby, look at you.” Which is about the most non-confrontational thing you can say to a person.
“Yes, look at me,” she says. “Would you please remove yourself from Zach’s arms?”
I’m actually trying to, but he doesn’t seem to be interested in letting me go. Finally, I look up at him and say, “Thank you, but I think I can stand now.”
He reluctantly releases me. Shelby grabs his arm and winds herself around it like she’s making one of those hot pads we loomed as kids. It’s a sign of pure ownership. “He’s with me.” Then she looks up at him and bats her eyes, “Didn’t he turn out to be something else?”
Zach stares at his feet and refuses to meet my eye.
“He’s sure somethin’,” I say. Then I add, “Thank you for rescuing me, Zach.” I bend over to collect Faye’s new loot.
“That’s right, you have a baby!” Shelby says like I’ve just adopted a puppy from the pound. “That must be so hard all by yourself.” Her lack of sincerity is as thick as fresh tar.
Zach comes to my defense and says, “Her fiancé. died, Shelby.” But he glares at me when he says it. What did I do now?
“Yes,” I say. “Poor Armand died while serving our country.”
“I heard it was friendly fire,” Shelby says. “It’s not like he was actually protecting anyone.”
“You bitch!” It’s out of my mouth before I can stop it. “All that matters is that he gave his life in the pursuit of our freedom. He was training for battle and now he’s gone. How dare you make light of his sacrifice?” I’m about to lunge at her when I remind myself he’s not even real.
Zach kindly says, “You must have loved him very much.”
“Of course, I did. He was going to be my husband. We have a baby.” I actually feel myself tear up. Obviously not because of the loss of the fictitious Armand, but because I don’t even know who Faye’s daddy is. I wonder how many years will go by before I convince myself he really was my knight in shining armor, tragically taken from me in his prime, not some stranger I picked up in a bar.
Shelby pulls Zach away and I hear her say, “She shouldn’t have let herself get into trouble like that.”
Zach says, “I don’t think she had a say in it, Shelby.”
What in the world is he talking about? Of course, I had a say in it. As far as my foggy memory goes, I said something along the lines of, “Oh, my God, yes! Right there! More!” I need to stop thinking about that night. Clearly, this town has made its decision about me and I’m going to have to be on my best behavior. I’m probably only saying that because Zach seems to already be spoken for. Although, if that’s so, why in the world was he toying with me in the locker room? I shudder at the thought that he thinks I’m a woman of loose morals and thinks he can take advantage of that for his own pleasure.
Chapter Sixteen
I take extra pains with my appearance this morning. It’s not like I’m consciously dressing for Zach, but if I am being honest, I’m sure there’s an element of that. Whatever almost happened between us at the club has played over and over in my mind, like that movie Ground Hog Day. I’m starting to wonder if maybe I imagined his interest. Is that possible? Could I be that desperate for male attention? Quite honestly, with the baby and all, I didn’t realize I was even missing it.
When I walk into the kitchen, Mama says, “You look nice.”
“I’m gonna burn the dress you bought me for the shower,” I tell her.
“That’s fine. We just had to make the right first impression. You can dress like yourself again.”
“Than
k you,” I tell her. I sweep a hand over the clothes I’m wearing, “I’d planned to. Can you imagine me wearing that to work?” Then I ask, “So what’s going on with Shelby Wilcox and Zach Grant? I ran into them at the club yesterday.”
Mama rolls her eyes. “That Shelby is busy trying to make your cousin Beau jealous. I’m afraid Zach doesn’t mean a thing to her.”
“That’s not how she was acting yesterday,” I say. “She acted like I was trying to steal him away from her just by breathing the same air.”
Mama looks up from measuring her coffee grounds and suspiciously asks, “Are you interested in Zachary Grant?”
“What? No! Good lord, Mama. I have enough going on without complicating my already messed-up life. For Pete’s sake, as if!” I feel like I’m protesting too much and decide I’d better simmer down before she suspects differently.
She lets it drop and says, “Cootie thinks your cousin should have asked Shelby to be exclusive and advised her to dump him.”
“Who else has Beau been seeing? I ask.
“No one that I know of,” Mama says. “He just isn’t ready to commit himself to one gal.”
“Well, if he’s not seeing anyone else, then wasn’t he already exclusive with Shelby?”
Mama says, “She wanted some sort of declaration of the fact and she pushed it. She figured that being they’d already been out on three dates, that he should take himself off the market.”
I can kind of see where she’s coming from. I mean if Beau didn’t know that he liked her enough to date her exclusively after three dates, then it’s clear he’s not that into her. I don’t tell Mama that, though. She’s from the school of thought that a person needs to know what their options are before fully committing themselves. I don’t disagree with her; we just have different timetables.
“What about you, Mama? Are you seeing anybody?”
“My word, no. Who would I date in a town like Creek Water?”
“I don’t know. There has to be somebody. Maybe a nice divorced man or widower or something.”
She shakes her head. “I’m not interested. I’ve got a nice house, a job I enjoy, and my baby and grandbaby are home. I’m full up, honey.”
I almost say that she’d have more room if she’d get rid of some of Daddy’s things. It’s been twenty years since he died and she has not once, that I know of, given her romantic life a second thought. Yet her closet is still half-filled with his clothes. I’m gonna have to keep my eye open for her.
I grab a muffin off the counter and give Faye a big smooch on top of the head. “I’m off. Can you bring the baby down to the warehouse at eleven when she’s ready to eat again?”
I could pump, but I hate to go that long without holding her. Babies are full-blown addictive to their mamas. It’s a mystical bond that goes beyond mere hormones. The kind of love where you’d lay down your life for the other person is nothing short of a gift from God. And I want to spend as much time with my gift as humanly possible. Also, I’m kind of afraid to pump at work now.
“Sure thing, honey. We’ll bring you lunch, too. Shall we?”
“Sounds good, Mama, thanks.” I give her a hug and then walk out to the garage. A year and a half ago my life was very different. I was a single, career girl living her dream in New York City. Now, I can barely remember who that person was. Quite honestly, now that I’m back, I’m not sure I’ll ever leave Creek Water again, even if it means battling it out with Cootie Wilcox. Having a baby changes everything.
Chapter Seventeen
I worked Mondays through Fridays at Silver Spoons. But the construction crew at the warehouse works on Saturdays, too, so I plan on being there. I don’t know what Zach’s hours are, but seeing as he was at the club with Shelby yesterday, which was Friday, I wonder if he’s a hands-off kind of boss. You know, telling his employees what to do while he goes off and plays. I do believe I will lose a good deal of respect for him if that is the case. Not that I currently have that much respect for him. He’s not treated me at all well, and even though my body seems to be attracted to him, my brain is screaming, “Girl, you can do so much better than a rude person who manhandles you in the locker room at the country club.”
Both of my uncles are already on site, wearing hardhats and reflective vests, when I show up. I thought I’d beat them to the punch as it’s only eight o’clock, but I guess I underestimated their excitement. I hurry to put on my own hat and run over to meet them.
“Morning, Emmie,” Jed says. “We were just trying to figure out how much space we’re gonna need for the gourmet shop. The architect is meeting us here in a couple hours so he can finalize the plans for the glass walls.”
“Glass walls?” I ask.
“We got to thinking that part of the charm of this space is its size. So, if we only use glass to separate the stores from each other, it’ll keep that charm intact. What do you think?”
I think it’s a great idea. Normally, storefronts have some kind of display window, but if the whole wall is a window then the store itself becomes the display. It’ll increase their usable square footage.”
“Exactly,” Uncle Jed says. “Now how big do you think Emmeline’s needs to be?”
“Emmeline’s?” I ask. “You’re naming the store after me?”
“Of course, darlin’. But before you get a big head over it, we’re only doing it because your name sounds classy. If Gracie and Reed had named you something like Sissy Poo or Bobbie Jean, we couldn’t have done it.”
“Bobbie Jean Minkler’s name is Bobbie Jean and she’s a lovely lady.”
Jesse replies, “Yes, she is. And her name is perfectly suited for the diner she owns. It sounds like a place where you can get some good pie. It just doesn’t sound like a place where you’d drop a hundred bucks on a trinket.”
Jed smacks his lips. “Let’s go over to Bobbie Jean’s for some pie when we’re done here.”
“Excellent idea,” Jesse replies. “Now, what kind of stuff should we sell at Emmeline’s?”
I say, “It depends on who your target market is.”
“Our customers will be anyone who’s got enough money to drop a C-note on a saucepan. So, I’m guessing club ladies?”
“The club ladies Mama’s age and older like to go shopping in St. Louis. They didn’t spend enough in town to support the stores that closed down. Remember how they used to love that dress shop, Draper’s? They could get their Estée Lauder without having to drive three towns away for it. But they still didn’t spend enough to keep the place in business.”
“So, who do you suggest we cater to?” Jed wants to know.
“You gotta go after the people who moved here to get away from the city. Target the younger folks who choose to be here and aren’t just here ’cause it’s all they know.”
“But how much could they afford to spend? It seems to me they don’t have the kind of money needed to keep us afloat,” Jesse says.
“You already told me that a bunch of them make their money working remotely. Didn’t you say they opened a special cyber office where they could rent space?”
Jed nods his head. “That’s right, we did. But just ’cause they can afford their rent doesn’t mean they can afford the extras.”
“Then give them enough small ticket items to draw them in. That way they can see we also carry big-ticket items if they can afford them,” I explain.
“Like what?” Jesse wants to know.
“Like little beard-grooming kits. That’s a great gift idea as well as something a person would buy for themselves. Or henna pens and tattoo stencils. That kind of thing.”
Jed nods his head. “There’s more facial hair in town now than there was in the seventies when I was a boy. And the tattoos would have your Grandma Frothingham fanning herself to keep from falling over in a dead faint. Okay, girl, what else you got?”
“Kitschy oven mitts and clever magnets for their refrigerators—fun little odds and ends that won’t cost a fortune.” At their expectant l
ooks, I add, “We’ll need an area for gourmet jams, and chocolates and things they’ve never been able to buy in town before. Plus, those are great for impulse buys. We could have a few select cookbooks and party invitations, wine glasses and beer mugs are a must.” I go on and on while the uncles stare at me with something akin to awe. “These are just the items to draw them in. Once they’re here, they’ll see the cookware, chef quality knives, and expensive dinnerware.”
“How much money are you going to need to stock the place before opening?” Jed asks.
“I’d say if you factor in everything from display cases to inventory, we could do it for about a hundred grand.”
“One hundred thousand dollars?” Jed demands.
“How much were you thinking?” I ask.
“We were thinking about twenty-five,” Jesse says.
“You could certainly open a shop for that, but you’ll have to rethink the kind you’d have,” I tell them.
Jed wants to know, “What kind of store could you open for twenty-five?”
“Maybe a card shop that sells a few knickknacks,” I say. Of course, my talents would be wasted on something so piddly.
“Would there be a market for that?” they want to know.
I shrug my shoulders. “Maybe.” I’d be bored to tears if that’s all it was. “Let me put together a few different ideas for you and we can revisit the kind of store after that.”
“I guess we can’t decide on how big it’s gonna be until we know that, right?” Jesse asks.
I tell him, “Just remember, the bigger the place, the more inventory you’ll need to fill it, and the more money you’ll make in the long term. A card shop isn’t going to rake in the bucks you’re hoping for.”
They look disheartened, but that’s life in the fast lane for you. I’m about to assure them we’ll work something out when I spy Zach coming our way. He looks like a man on a mission, and that mission appears to be me. What in the world have I done now?
Chapter Eighteen
The Event Page 6