“She has all of that, Gemma. Well, except the full fridge.” Haley embraced her with a laugh. “She knows she’s safe and loved. When she first came to live with you, she never smiled. Now she glows. You’ve given her a life after so much death.”
With those encouraging words in the air, Gemma’s phone sounded. She set her breakfast down on the stairs and pulled the device from her pocket.
“It’s Paula the Plumber,” she said to Haley who waved off the call.
“Don’t answer. She takes forever and then overcharges. Let me text Cole. He can have someone out there this afternoon.” Haley’s husband ran the fastest-growing construction company in middle Tennessee. “By the barn, you said?” She was already typing out her message.
“Hal, you don’t have to do that. Paula maybe be slow and overcharge, but for sure I can’t afford one of Cole’s crew.”
“For what I’m paying you, he can toss me some pro bono plumbing work.”
Gemma teared up as she headed into the office. This was why she came home. Friends, family, support. This was why she’d never leave.
She launched the shop’s email account and bookkeeping program, took a bite of her roll, then laughed when she spied the Fourth of July Three-Legged Race trophy on the file cabinet.
Pops Yer Uncle won the overall event, once again, but the shop took one heat from them. Next year, they’d take two if not the “whole blame thing.” Haley was determined. Even mentioned something about starting to train in June.
“Cole’s sending one of his guys to the farm after lunch,” Haley said, leaning into the office. “They’ll get it fixed. It’s on the house too.”
Since JoJo was off on Mondays, Gemma and Haley ran the shop in quiet camaraderie. In the afternoon when Gemma finished sorting a new shipment, Haley left to take her one-and-a-half-year-old daughter for a checkup.
She loved when she had the place to herself. The shop was peaceful, quiet, staged with symbols of love and commitment.
Gemma walked through the grand salon—which had an old Hollywood feel with a curved, gold sofa and two mid-century modern end tables—and glanced at the town from the picture window. When she turned back to the room, she noticed a layer of dust on the tables.
Grabbing a cloth from the supply closet, she worked her way around the shop, humming to herself, feeling rather, well, lighthearted.
When Imani came home Saturday night, she caught Gemma and the prince on the deck, in the dark, watching the stars, saying nothing.
When he left, Imani grilled her.
“W-what was he doing here? I didn’t know he was so gorgeous. His eyes are like blue. Really blue.”
Gemma recounted the three-legged race mishap, how he carried her over the finish line, and showed up later to check on her.
“He helped me with the herd because you abandoned me.”
“Aren’t you glad?”
“Then we ordered pizza. No big deal.”
“No big deal? Gemma, he’s a freaking prince.”
“Tell me about your night at Justin’s. Did his dad have good fireworks?”
She’d just finished with the shop dusting when a customer entered. A newly engaged woman with her mother.
“We drove up from Alabama. My grandmother bought her dress here in the forties when Miss Cora owned it.” The young woman paced around the mannequins in the small salon where Haley staged the vintage gowns. “She said she donated it to the new owner when she reopened. I’d really love to find it and buy it back. Mom, do you see it?”
“If you don’t find your grandmother’s,” Gemma said, “we’ll try to find you one like it.”
In the middle of helping them scout the older gowns, wondering what might be preserved in inventory, Gemma excused herself for her ringing phone.
Behind the counter, she gazed at the screen and sank slowly to the stool by the cash register.Matt Biglow. You must be kidding.What did he want?
“Miss, are there more vintage dresses? We can’t seem to find my mother’s.” The bride’s mother couldn’t have been much older than Gemma’s mom. She was pretty, with the countenance of success.
“Um, yes, forgive me. I’ll go to the mezzanine and bring out the rest. Some of them are quite old so we preserve them.”
