Jeffrey moved dutifully behind her, dressed in business casual and carrying her purse.
“Out for your weekly date?” I asked rhetorically as I stepped forward to give her a hug. Annie only bothered showing up at the shop once a week since her baby bump had appeared. In truth, Annie had pulled back on her hours the moment she’d gotten married. Our parents had supported her choice, claiming new marriages needed time and attention to thrive. And who could complain about a pregnant lady not working more? “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks.” She set her hands on her swollen abdomen when I released her. “We can’t stay long. We have a prenatal appointment, then lunch plans, and we’re going to take a walk in the park if the weather holds up.”
“That sounds really nice,” I said, meaning it to my core.
Jeffrey stood behind her, gently rubbing his big hands up and down her arms. He’d joined the family, unofficially, during Annie’s freshman year in college, when they’d met by absolute happenchance and fallen head over heels in love. It was a story they shared almost as often as our parents told of their bolt-of-lightning, kismet first encounter. Both true love stories had begun on the University of Massachusetts campus. Personally, I’d spent four years on that campus without any marital prospects, but that was my life. Commuting forty-five minutes to classes and back so I could help with Annie and the bookstore had made my college experience very different from the rest of my family’s.
Jeffrey had become an official Rini following a spring wedding two years back.
I’d been Annie’s bridesmaid too.
“Can we bring you anything for lunch?” he offered. “We’re eating at the Bistro. It wouldn’t be any trouble. Our treat.”
My gaze flickered to the fancy restaurant on the corner across the street. “No, thank you.” I appreciated the offer, but they had a baby on the way and only one real income. The expression on Annie’s face said Jeffrey was working off the cuff—i.e., he’d offered without her preapproved consent, and I imagined she wasn’t keen on visiting the bookstore, or me, twice in one day. I didn’t want to start trouble in paradise, so I refreshed my smile. “I packed my lunch.”
“Well,” Annie said, glancing around. “Everything looks great here, as always. You’ve got it all under control.”
I frowned. Something seemed off about Annie lately. I couldn’t put my finger on the exact change or properly explain my intuition, but I hated the new distance between us. Despite vast personality differences and a seven-year age gap, for many years I was her favorite person. She was still mine.
Before I could ask if there was something more she wanted to say, Annie turned to her husband. “We should go. I don’t want to be late for the doctor.”
Jeffrey nodded and opened the door again. “Good seeing you, Emma. Take care.”
“You too,” I said. “Bye, Annie.”
She wiggled her fingers and moved back into the day.
Not one of her longer visits, but I had to take what I could get. If I didn’t see her on their weekly dates or Saturday-night dinners with our folks, I wasn’t sure when I’d see her at all.
Time rushed ahead from there as I impersonated a spinning top, greeting and ringing up customers, stocking inventory, and placing orders. All while firming up my internal resolve for personal change.
The words of Emily’s poem played again in my mind, and I acknowledged my quietly broken heart. I, Emma Rini, wanted what everyone else seemed to have already. I wanted the happily ever after. The deep, abiding love I saw in my parents, in movies, in books. I wanted it, but it didn’t want me. On a slightly brighter note, I realized, I was at least in good company.
Emily Dickinson had never married or had children, and she’d been brilliant. She’d found peace and beauty all around her. Why couldn’t I do the same?
I didn’t need someone to love me the way my dad loved my mom. I could embrace my inner Emily and learn to find peace and beauty in my life. I could learn to love myself instead.
That’s exactly what I’d do. I lifted my chin in audacious resolve.
Where to begin? I made a quick mental list of ways to emulate Emily’s life. She’d liked to bake and had been an avid gardener. I could do those things. She’d also liked to read and journal, write poetry, and correspond with friends. I could easily add those activities to my routine as well. Soon I’d be so busy learning new things and finding new passions, I wouldn’t have time to date or worry about love.
When shoppers disappeared after lunchtime, I settled behind the counter, feeling optimistic, and opened my prepackaged salad. I used to go pick up my lunch when Annie shared the workload, but without her to cover my breaks, I couldn’t even run upstairs to grab somethingfrom my fridge. Instead, I had to plan ahead, pack a thermal lunch tote, and eat around one o’clock, when business generally slowed.
My apartment was technically rent-free, but it definitely came at a price. Most notably, it made me the one to open and close the shop every day, and I was forever on standby to sign for deliveries before and after hours.
I dragged the box of books Caden had delivered a little closer, then opened it as I ate. The packing list on top was correct, so I breathed a little easier. Unfortunately, the stack of books beneath was wrong.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I slouched onto the stool and stuck another forkful of lettuce into my mouth.
I’d ordered several copies of Nicholas Sparks’s latest novel but received a stack of works by Nicholas Evans instead. “Un-freaking-believable.”
Nothing againstThe Horse Whisperer, but I’d been hoping to receive what I’d asked for this time. I made a note to contact the distributor and file a complaint. It had taken too long and too much hassle to return the last shipment they’d sent in error, and I was fast becoming a one-woman show.
The lonely thought sent a pang of grief through me, and I squared my shoulders.
Being alone was fine. I was fine.
