I’ve decided that being environmentally conscious is going to be My Thing now, as it’s one of the ways I can affordably better the world. I’m all out of yachts to auction off for charity, but I can still contribute. I’ve been drinking water from a stainless steel thermos rather than my beloved plastic Evian bottles, and so far today I’ve yelled at two different people to pick up their litter. You’re welcome, Mother Nature.
We cross the street, a breeze gusting Kaia’s short brown-blond hair to make it curl around the edges of her ball cap. On this stretch of Cottonwood Lane, snow never melts off the cars parked on the street because they’re chilled by the shadow of the Watson house rising far above. Grandma’s such a menace. I want to be more like her someday, but not the acting and accolades part, or the fake gravestones in my yard. I want to be an intimidating matriarch with loads of great-grandchildren underfoot to bring me the remote when I bark for it.
“Igetit,” she laughs. “You’re shilling for Mary Had a Little Boutique now.”
“A shopping hot spot in the Colorado heartland,” I reply airily. “Don’t miss out on all their best steals and deals! For a limited time only you can get half off any purchase online if you use the coupon codeBETTIEat checkout.” Mary’s on Etsy, as well, where she sells quilts and headbands for babies. Half of my job is double-checking shipping labels and making trips to the post office.
“I think it’s cool that the shop is going to let you sell your cards there, too. I’m happy for you.”
“Mary’s a gem. I won’t forget her when I’m being interviewed byForbessomeday.”
When she offered me a job, Mary explained that I’d be frequently communicating with local creators, who are the backbone of the store. I mentioned my Hughes & Co. cards, she invited me to bring in a variety box, and ended up ordering twenty boxes of fifteen cards each, with a special request for extra copies of one with an owl yellingi heard what you said about me.The adrenaline rush from my first sale was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced in a work environment. Looking back, passion was the missing component from all my other business endeavors. With my lipstick line, my Bettie Gardenia fragrance, the jewelry collaborations, I’d simply been throwing products at a wall to see which might stick. I didn’t get any creative fulfillment from them. These cards, however, aremine. I draw and package each one myself. I care as much about making them and having fun doing so as I do about selling them.
My goal is to become a worldwide sensation, naturally, but for now I’ll start local, working my way up from Mary Had a Little Boutique salesgirl to president of Hughes & Co., home of niche cards that nobody asked for but everyone definitely needs. Youshould see me at it—I’m like a puma with the customers. I could sell a shark to a clownfish, and I’m going to put Magnolia Hope Chest out of business.
I am granting myself this one tiny grudge to keep me warm at night. Chip and Joanna Gaines’s folksy shop is direct competition for Mary Had a Little Boutique, and for that unforgivable reason, they must go.
“Bettie.”
“Huh?” I whip around.
Kaia returns my stare emptily. “I said I’m happy for you.”
“No, it was... it sounded like someone else just said my name.”
We both survey the crop of buildings: Cheers Chocolatiers, Rocky Road Ice Cream Parlor, Moonlit Cinema, sidled up against each other like cozy old friends.
Nobody I recognize is afoot, but I dart along the crosswalk anyway, peering into the chocolaterie, at a husband-and-wife team in tall white hats who sculpt chocolate while patrons look on. Then I hear it again:
“Bettie.”
The voice keeps slipping in from changing directions: now it’s coming from behind me. In the big glass display window at a Verizon Wireless, there are about thirty cell phones lit up with a familiar face, thirty identical Halls waving.
I stop dead.
Before I can move again, the image wipes, screen blank before readjusting to readVerizon Wireless.
“What?” Kaia asks, following my gaze. I press my fingertips to the glass, staring, waiting for Hall to come back. “Do you need a new phone?”
“No,” I croak. “Hold on, I’ll be back in a sec.”
Her attention falls upon Silver Mine Dining, where we’re currently supposed to be enjoying grilled cheese sandwiches. “How long is your lunch break?”
“I’ll be quick.”
I duck into the store and check out the phones, thinking maybe he left evidence of himself somehow. But there’s nothing. When I return, Kaia squints. “What was that about?”
“I thought I saw Hall on the phone screens.”
She glances. “Was he?”
“I don’t know.”
We start walking again, but my muscles are rubbery. I keep craning to glance back at the store. “I know what you mean,” she says conversationally. “I keep thinking I hear Courtney’s voice. Or I’ll see a purple jacket or a purple sign, and it’s like my heart tries to jump out of my body because for a millisecond, I think it’s her.” At my inquisitive expression, she adds, “Courtney has purple hair.”
“Maybe your heart is telling you that it wants to see Courtney.”
She sighs. “My heart needs to shut up.”
