The rest of the morning isn’t too chaotic, but the store is steadily busy enough to keep me distracted and not ruminating on Kelly’s comments about Desiderio.
I miss him. I love him, and I’ve never stopped loving him. To the point that, honestly? I’ve never started looking for someone else. Not really. Not seriously.
Which is stupid, I know. He’s obviously over me and has moved on.
Maybe I should reach out to him. Except I don’t want to do that just to find out he’s moved on. He’s probably moved on.
Right?
He wanted his career. I can’t blame him for that. He couldn’t make anywhere near the money he is now if he’d stayed here. And commuting wasn’t exactly an option. Not when his time is split between New York City and Miami. Two completely different states.
While he offered to pay for me to fly to either place to spend time with him, I didn’t feel right about that. And it’s not in my budget to make trips like that every month. Plus, I don’t have the time for it.
Something had to give. I’m okay not being rich. My bills are paid, my house is paid for, my business is doing well, and I can treat my employees fairly. I can pay them all on time and I pay them first, actually, before I pay my own salary. If I ever came up short, I’d be paying them before anything or anyone else got paid.
Luckily, that’s never been an issue.
If I had to compete with a big-box store here in town, yeah, that might put a dent in my bottom line. But I don’t. There’s not even a Walmart or Target in town that might compete with me in some ways. Not even the Dollar Holler is true competition.
When people need a new grill or smoker, they come to me first. Or when they’re looking for outside holiday decorations. Or new garden implements—anything like that, really. The extra little money they spend with me is more than made up for in the gas and time they save not having to drive somewhere else to pick it up, or ordering it online and waiting for it to arrive.
Everyone’s a winner.
I take my lunch break a little early today. I don’t want to be interrupted by a dozen Methodist group ladies trying to fix me up with their sons, grandsons, and nephews.
Yeah, been there, done that. They’re sweet and mean well but chances are if they are locals and floated my boat, I’d already be with them.
I tell everyone I’m heading out and make my way home, letting myself in the front door, where Jester’s waiting to twine himself around my ankles as I come in.
“Maow!”
“All right, you little fiend. What other surprises do you have in store for me today?” I carefully pick my way down the hall to the kitchen because I don’t want to accidentally step on him where he’s still wrapping himself around me like an orange and white pair of purring socks.
As I stand in the kitchen doorway and scan for managed mischief, I don’t spot anything amiss, at first. The pantry door is still closed.
But when I walk around the kitchen island, I spot several of his catnip toys on the floor right next to the pantry door.
I stare down at him. “What are you doing? Offering tribute to the pantry peanut butter gods in hopes they’ll open the door for you?”
He blinks up at me and meows.
“You’re weird,” I say as I open the pantry door. Then again, who am I to judge?
Here I am, talking to my cat.
Jester darts inside the pantry as I open the door. Just in case he tries anything, I move the peanut butter to a higher shelf and then reach for a can of chicken to make chicken salad.
He plops down and stares up at me as I do all of this, accusation in his eyes.
“No peanut butter for you.” I shoo him out of the pantry and firmly close the door but he stands there and rubs his head against it and starts meowing up at me.
I wish I could call Desiderio and tell him about this. I miss our chats.
There’s a lot I miss about him.
I guess he doesn’t miss me all that much, though.
* * * *
