“Fair.” She lifts one pointed finger in the air. “But, consider this. Shame is a powerful emotion. It sits at the root of so much of what we do, how we act, how we respond. And everyone feels it, at one point or another. Nobody escapes it.”
“I try to think about what this all might be like from his perspective, but it’s hard when I don’t know what that is.” I look around our home, at the oven where he baked my birthdaycakes, and the small basket in the corner where he’d dump his keys and wallet when he came home. His favorite coffee mug with the State Forty-Eight symbol still sits on the shelf next to the sink. I knew it was there when I was packing up his belongings, and I chose to keep it.
Tracey eyes me. She seems to understand this isn’t easy. “Are you sure you’re ready to part ways with this house?”
I nod immediately. “I’ve been running in place for a while now. It’s time to move forward.”
A slow smile spreads onto Tracey’s face. “Atta girl.”
Pride warms my cheeks. Tracey is probably only slightly younger than my mother would have been if she’d lived.
We go over specifics, like timing and asking price, and Tracey tells me she’ll be in touch.
It’s perfect.A one bedroom, one bathroom condo on the ground floor. There’s crown molding and wood floors, and a charming claw-foot tub. The only thing it was missing was a second soul to occupy it. I remedied that quickly, though, during my last shift at the shelter.
Reaching over the side of the couch, I run a hand along the length of Ruby, my newly adopted yellow Labrador Retriever rescue. I knew she was meant to be mine the second she was dropped off at the shelter by a man who claimed he’d lost his job and could not afford her care. She looked in my eyes and instantly stole my heart. I officially understand thoseWho Rescued Who?bumper stickers. Ruby’s adoration is pure, and sweet. It’s just what I need.
She sighs, a thick and contented sound, and rolls closer.
Tomorrow I’ll spend the day assembling new furniture and unpacking. Tracey was right. Our house sold in fewer than four days.
In some ways, it feels wrong to be doing all this without Gabriel. Then I remember I’m doing all thisbecauseof Gabriel.
But it’s ok.
I’m ok.
Sometimes, ok is enough.
CHAPTER 30
Gem,my sister and Dani’s coffee shop, had its grand opening two weeks ago. Since then, there has been a steady stream of customers all day, every day.
I arrived at Gem early this morning, in the hopes of actually getting a table. I’ve been writing at home, and I’m ready for a change of scenery.
The girl in front of me in line cranes her neck to look around. She catches my eye and says, “Isn’t this place gorgeous? I love how it’s earthy and moody at the same time.”
I grin proudly. “This is my sister’s place. Well, her and her partner.”
As I say it, my name is called across the room. Cam bends over, wiping a table and pointing at it.Come here, she mouths. She sets a coffee down on the clean surface.
“Perks,” the girl in front of me comments as she moves up to order.
I leave the line and walk to Cam. “I hope that’s for me,” I say, practically begging. I was up late last night outlining an idea for a story.
“It is,” Cam says, but pulls it away as I’m reaching for it. “I need your help. Dani has this idea for a hanging chalkboard.” She explains, “The concept is simple: a jar where people can enter in short poems, quotes, limericks, random musings, really anything, and each week one entry will earn a spot on the chalkboard. They can email them in, too, and we will print it and add it to the jar.”
“Sounds fun,” I say, reaching for my drink, and this time Cam lets me have it. “Encourages patron involvement.”
Cam makes a hopeful face. “I need your pretty handwriting.”
“Pay me in free coffee and pastries.”
“Opportunist,” she mutters. “Also, Dani spoke to her aunt. She wants to talk to you.”
I swallow the hot coffee. “Dani?”
Cam rolls her eyes. “No. Dani’s aunt. Her name is Jill.”
