The Memory Keeper: A heartwarming, feel-good romance

by Jenny Hale

  “I’ve got a company renting that development which plans to bring in a bookstore and a couple of clothing boutiques.”

  “Oh, a bookstore would be amazing,” Hannah said.

  Liam smiled. “My mother would agree.”

  “Yes, right!” Hannah refocused on the task at hand. “We’ve got some biscuits to make.”

  The buttery aroma in the kitchen smelled divine, both casseroles now in the oven, baking. The music was playing softly on the radio, the candle flickering between Hannah and Liam at the table.

  “So tell me about your job,” Liam said, as he poured Hannah a glass of white wine.

  “I’m an art director for a magazine,” she told him.

  “I remember you wanting to do something like that when we were kids,” he said. “You were so excited to go off to college. So you must love what you do.” He handed her the glass.

  She considered his observation. “Honestly, I used to, but now I’m not so sure. And I’m having some trouble at the moment.”

  “What is it?”

  She explained the situation with the lost photos. “The title of the spread is ‘From Our Homes to Yours,’ and it was supposed to be a collection of farm life from around the country. I’ve got the articles sitting in my inbox right now, but I haven’t had a chance to look at them yet. I’m hoping they’ll give me some inspiration for a new shoot.”

  She considered asking Liam if she could photograph the farmhouse, but decided against bringing it up right now. The last thing she wanted to do was to get caught up in a lengthy conversation about work.

  The oven timer went off. “Looks like dinner’s ready,” she said. “I’ll bring it over.”

  “I’ve got it,” Liam said. He stood up and grabbed the blue-and-white checkered kitchen towel from the sink, then pulled the casseroles out of the oven, bringing one of them to the table and setting it on a trivet.

  “It looks delicious,” she said, peering over it. The vegetables were bubbling up through the browned biscuits that had formed a fluffy crust on top, more vegetables peeking out from the edges.

  Liam dished out the casserole, dropping a large, piping hot square in the center of the plate and handing it to her. Then he filled another plate for himself.

  “How’s your grandmother?” he asked.

  “She’s doing okay, I guess.” Hannah set her napkin in her lap. “I hate that she might be spending her final days in the hospital. Life can be so fragile; it can change in an instant. It makes me want to seize the moment, any chance I get.”

  “So. If this was, in fact, your last day, and you knew that, what would you do?”

  “That’s a tough question,” she replied. “It’s easy to say I’d run off into the sunset, but life isn’t that simple when there are things out of my control, like Gran being sick. I suppose I’d spend the day with the people that mean the most to me. How about you? Is there anything you’ve always wanted to do?”

  He took a drink of his wine, his expression making him look like he was solving some sort of algebra problem. Then he set his glass down and pushed back his chair, standing up and walking to Hannah’s side of the table. He took her hand, gently pulling her to a standing position. The only sound between them was the radio playing softly. He put his arm around her and held her hand, swaying to the slow music. “If today were my last day,” he said, looking into her eyes, “I’d dance with you.”

  She peered up at him, surprise washing over her like bubbles in champagne. “This is what you’d want to do on your final day—dance with me?” she asked.

  “One time, at the bonfire in the field, when we were kids, you and Morgan were dancing in the headlights of one of the trucks. I still remember your long hair falling down the back of your sundress and your hands above your head. The other guys were hooting and hollering, but I thought, ‘I wish I could dance with her.’”

  “Why didn’t you?” she asked.

  “When I finally got the nerve to jump down from the back of the truck, Ethan had pulled you aside and asked you to go home.” Out of nowhere, Liam dipped her, making her laugh. He pulled her upright. “I think my final day would be about… taking chances.” He twirled her out and then brought her back in to him, making her smile again.

  “Can I dance, Daddy?” Noah’s groggy voice came from the doorway, causing both Hannah and Liam to start. “I woke up,” he said, his eyes heavy, a pink line on his cheek from the sheets.

  Hannah walked over to him and took his hand. “Of course you can dance,” she said. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll show you how I learned to dance. Your dad has bigger feet than I do, so he’d be the best to do this.” She turned Noah toward Liam. “Step up on your daddy’s feet and hold on to him.” She twisted the knob on the radio slightly so they could hear the music better. “Now, Liam, dance like you were with me, and Noah will learn your steps.”

  Liam began to move his feet, Noah gliding along with him. Noah broke out in a look of pure sleepy happiness as he peered up at his father.

  “Hannah’s a good teacher, isn’t she?” Liam asked Noah.

  “Yes, but you’re good too,” Noah said, wriggling his little toes on Liam’s feet.

  Liam lifted him up into his arms. Without warning, Noah put his arms around his father’s neck and gave him a big squeeze. Hannah’s heart pattered. If this were her last day, that, right there, would be on her list of things to see.

  Twenty-One

  The next morning, Hannah and Georgia had gotten to The Memory Keeper early.

  Georgia sat cross-legged in the empty display window. “What if we could make this place great again?” she offered optimistically. “What if we could get enough sales to pay off the debt and turn the shop around?”

  “I have to admit, I thought that too after hearing about the new shops Liam’s bringing in.” Hannah opened the back door and set a bowl of milk out for Speckles, although she still hadn’t seen the cat. “But where could we even start?”

  Georgia hopped off the window and came up behind her. “You’re too involved in the situation,” she said. “Close your eyes.”

  Glad for the distraction, Hannah complied.

  “You work at a magazine, right? You’re doing a magazine spread on flowers, and this is a blank page. Just one giant, three-dimensional canvas. What do you put on it?”

  Images began filtering into Hannah’s mind. Painted, curling letters in cursive script spelling out “The Memory Keeper” slid onto the back wall in blues and greens like vines, with pink, purple, and yellow bunches of flowers along the tails—all of it swirling over a mural of some sort. The old counter at the back became an oversized whitewashed antique dresser with a marble top, the old record player cornered on it, and cut-glass antique vases of flowers sitting on light disks illuminating the back wall with shimmery sparkles.

  Hannah suddenly thought back to what Liam had said about taking chances, his suggestion giving her new perspective. What if she could make a different kind of shop here? If they could make The Memory Keeper inviting for new customers by bringing it into the present, they might have a shot at turning things around.

  “We have to paint anyway at the end of the lease,” Hannah said, still thinking about the possibilities. “We need the brightest white paint possible.” She opened her eyes. “The flowers will provide the color.”

  “Yes!” Georgia agreed, beginning to bounce around the room. “See all those silver buckets? Let’s replace them with new ones and fill them with flowers from floor to ceiling.”

  “But how will we get to them?”

  Georgia’s gaze landed on the track at the top of one of the walls. “I’ll bet there was a ladder that used to slide across that wall.”

  “Oh, you could be right.”

  “Wouldn’t it be gorgeous if we replaced it with a wide, substantial, wooden ladder in a thick gloss of stain?”

  “That would be gorgeous! I’ll take measurements for it right now.” Hannah and Georgia had a vision together that was
shaping up beautifully. Their creative sides connected easily, and Hannah was so glad Georgia had been here to offer her suggestions. It was still a long shot, but what if it actually worked? “So how do we replace something like the ladder? It would have to be specially made.”

  “We can ask around to see if anyone knows a woodworker in town who could make it. I’m sure there’s someone.”

  “I think I’d like to have these wood floors buffed and sanded too, and then put on a thick coat of clear sealer to shine it up and make it match the ladder. Its imperfections and the light wood color would make a nice canvas. We could hang some chandeliers where those old lights are. Plunging, crystal ones. And then we can stain the old wood cashier’s counter.” She turned to the long blank wall to the left of the door. “What if this wall was filled with some sort of artwork? Then, in front of it, we could put a line of rocking chairs with coordinating pillows.”

  “That sounds stunning.” Georgia danced over to the display window. “I can see this window dressed in elegant satin curtains, drawn back at the sides here with curtain pegs. And in the window area, there’s room to use varying heights of antique furniture—whitewashed like the others you mentioned—to showcase the current displays of floral arrangements for the season. I’ve walked past about three antiques stores in town. There’s no shortage of furniture.”

  Hannah put her hands on her hips, thinking. “We’re talking a lot of money for a renovation like that…” she told her, the idea settling in. “What if we can do it on a shoestring budget? Do it ourselves and only hire for the things we absolutely cannot do.”

  “Of course! We could get it done in a week if we really push through.”

  “I think we could too,” Hannah said, as she took in the gloomy walls in their current state. The idea of surprising Gran with this made Hannah come alive. She cringed at the thought of asking for more time off from work, but perhaps she could explain the health of her grandmother. She’d have to figure that out later. “The inside is easy,” Hannah said. “But what do we do with the outside?”

  Georgia leaned on the wide display shelf to peer out of the large storefront window. “That big section of brush has to go,” she said.

  “Definitely,” Hannah agreed. “We need to totally gut the yard and replace it with sod and new mulch beds. The exterior clapboard siding could be a bright white as well. But I know that’s a lot…”

  “We could clear most of the brush ourselves, and do our own landscaping.”

  Hannah chewed on her lip, calculating the numbers. “If we do everything inside ourselves, I think I could afford to pay for most of the outside… Oh, I just thought of something!” she said, coming over to Georgia. “What if we made the outside super inviting with flowers, painted the current seating areas, and added some brightly colored umbrellas? We could have water bowls for customers’ dogs, bird feeders, and bowls of milk for cats—Gran would adore that. If people know they can sit down and relax here, ‘make memories,’ they’ll think of us first as the place to go when they need flowers.”

  “I love that,” Georgia said, clapping her hands with excitement. “We could even partner with the local bakery and do things together for the major holidays.”

  Hannah could feel the anticipation building. “You know, my gran used to always offer shoppers lemonade or iced tea. We could have a lemonade station and silver tea service.”

  “Now you’re talkin’,” Georgia said with a giggle. “I’d love to design the exterior for you. I could draw up some sketches.”

  “That would be amazing! I think I know the perfect person to paint what we want on the interior as well… I wonder if we could get it done in time. It would be amazing to surprise Gran when she gets home from the hospital.”

  Hannah’s dreaming about the shop had carried over to the idea that Gran would walk out of the hospital one day. That she’d be back to her busy self, strolling into town every morning and chatting with the locals. Even though Hannah knew there was a possibility that Gran’s future had other less favorable outcomes, she wanted to hold on to her faith for just a while longer. And fixing up the shop would help her do that.

  “Miss Hannah Townshend—our own town beauty queen returns!” Ethan’s father Ardy said, wiping his hands on a grease-streaked shop towel. His hair had grayed on the sides, and his potbelly was bigger than she remembered, but his smile was just as warm.

  “Beauty queen?” she laughed. “It was only the once, and I was Watermelon Festival Queen. Hardly the town’s beauty queen when it was only me and three others in the running.”

  “You wore that crown well.” He stepped up to her. “I’d hug you, but you don’t want to get dirt on those fancy clothes of yours.” He offered her a big smile. “You lookin’ for Ethan?”

  “I am,” she replied.

  “He’s on lunch break—” Just then, the door to the shop opened. “Well, look at that. Speak of the devil.”

  “Somethin’ wrong with your daddy’s truck?” Ethan asked, coming in and giving her a playful once-over, clearly wondering why she was there. He loved giving her a hard time, and she didn’t mind at all. It was Ethan’s way of showing affection.

  “Ethan, I just wanna make sure you’re gonna be home—” A woman with wispy brown hair and an unfussy appearance came in, a young toddler on her hip, still chatting up a storm to Ethan before she stopped, catching up to the situation, her gaze landing on Hannah.

  Ethan turned around, and the atmosphere became notably uneasy, to Hannah’s confusion. “This is my wife, Christie,” he said, introducing them. “And my son Wesley.”

  “You have a son?” Hannah asked, taking in the child’s familiar blue eyes.

  “I do,” he said quietly. Ethan gestured toward Hannah. “Christie, this is—”

  “I know who she is,” Christie cut him off. Her words were more guarded than angry, but they gave Hannah the feeling that she wasn’t very welcome in Christie Wright’s presence. “Come on home right at five, please. You need to watch Wesley for me.”

  “I will,” he said.

  Christie gave him one final lingering look, and then left, the mood lighter once she’d gone.

  Ethan jammed his hands in the pockets of his jeans as he shared a quick glance with his dad.

  Hannah stood between the two men, waiting for some explanation.

  “I’ve gotta get back in there,” Ardy said. “Got a transmission that’s givin’ us all fits. It’s great to see you, Hannah.”

  “See ya,” she said, still waiting for Ethan to give her some idea of what was going on, the confusion eating away at the excitement she’d had when she’d first arrived at the body shop looking for him.

  “So, what’s up?” Ethan asked Hannah, as if nothing was wrong.

  “I’m not really sure,” she answered honestly. “What just happened?”

  “She’s just testy, that’s all.”

  “Testy.” She said the word like a statement, but he knew full well it was a question. “And you have a son?” Hannah felt her tone soften at the memory of those rosy cheeks and blue eyes. “Why didn’t Gran tell me? Surely she knew.”

  “I don’t see your family anymore, Hannah. I went on and had my own life after you left. I sank myself into work and focused on raising my family,” he said. “Like I told you, there’s a lot you don’t know about me these days. I’ve gotta clock in.” He went over to the computer and typed in something. “You just droppin’ by to say hey, or are you in the market for an oil change?”

  “I need your artistic skills,” she said, finally allowing a warmhearted smile to settle on her lips. She knew that would get him.

  “I don’t do art anymore,” he said. “Look, I gotta get to work.”

  “Wait, what?” she said, grabbing his arm to stop him from going toward the door to the garage.

  “My painting days are long gone.”

  Hannah was sure a whole lot had transpired in the years she’d been away, but this was a complete and utter shock. “Yo
u don’t paint anymore at all? Not even in your free time?” Her words withered on the air, her disappointment clear.

  He shook his head, something more in his eyes than what he was telling her.

  “You could start again,” she suggested. “You’re the best, and I need you.”

  “Sorry, Hannah. You’ll have to find someone else.”

  “It’s for Gran.”

  Surrender slid down his face.

  “Could you just come to The Memory Keeper after work and see what I need?”

  His chested puffed out with an inhale that he then blew through his lips in frustration. “I can’t tonight. I’ve gotta get home to watch Wesley.”

  “You could bring him,” she suggested. “Maybe we could take him for ice cream after.”

  “I can’t.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Ethan,” a man said from the door to the garage. “We’re shorthanded in here. Wanna finish up that marathon lunch break and get to work?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Sorry. On my way.” He addressed Hannah. “Look, I gotta go. I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

  “Ethan!” the man called, causing Ardy to leave what he was doing and walk over with an expectant shrug.

  Ethan went into the garage, the door closing between them, leaving her in the waiting room alone. Stunned, she turned around and walked out, feeling anxious. Ethan had been so adamant his whole life that he’d never end up working at Ardy’s body shop, and there he was, clocking in.

  And why had Christie been so standoffish? Hannah had never met the woman in her life. What had she ever done to her? She remembered what Ethan had said about Christie worrying he’d want to see what was out there in the world, but Hannah had come into their world. So what was with her?

  Ethan was right about one thing: things had definitely changed. In fact, nothing at all seemed the same anymore. She wanted to talk to Gran. Maybe she could swing by the hospital for a visit after she and Georgia finished at the shop. She got into the truck and headed back.