After Rio closed the door that connected the stockroom and my impromptu workshop and went back to the shop, I turned the volume down and removed the ring to avoid future ambushes.
I was restless. So, following Rio after a few moments, I entered the shop.
“Yep, she’s still in Wayford,” Rio replied to my inquiry. “She’ll be there all week, interviewing and teaching Adam how to run the show.”
Dharma strutted toward us after escorting a chatty customer to the door. “Hey, music man, I listen to you all the time,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “Will you hold a private concert for us sometime? I’m free tonight.”
“Dharma, the shelves still need rearranging before Heart Care month. It’s really important to June. Can you please handle it? I’ll arrange the secondhand corner.” Rio gave her a sharp look.
“On it.” Dharma’s eyes were on me, a cheeky smile spread across her face. She then walked away slowly, as if she were trying to stretch the moment.
Yep, still reminded me of Amber, but it only served to catapult my thoughts back to June, their polar opposite.
“She’s new, but she’s not usually like that,” Rio said, as if we were in a parent-teacher meeting, discussing an errant child. “You have an effect on her. To be honest, youarean interesting addition to the shop. She thinks you’re only renting the back,” she added over a chuckle. “She doesn’t know about you and June.” Rio’s eyes were on Dharma’s retreating back. She then looked at me. “June is an enigma to her.”
Tell me about it. “Heart care is important to her because of her father?”
“I think so, but she cares about everything. Too much sometimes. We have people come in with all sorts of background conditions. She gives those her all. She’d never admit it, but she takes a lot to heart. No pun intended.” Rio huffed a smile. “Don’t tell her I told you.”
I smiled back. “I won’t. And the secondhand corner; what’s that?”
“June.” Rio whispered now. “She initiated a donations corner but didn’t want people to feel it’s charity, so we sell everything there for a dollar.”
My heart tightened in my chest. From the fragments June had shared, I realized she knew what it was like to grow up in need. I did, too. The thought and care behind what Rio had just told me emblazed an angle of June that she herself kept in the dark.
“I’ll let you get back to work,” I said when the bell above the front door chimed with a new customer entering.
Leaving through the back, I got into my car and drove to Wayford. I needed to see June. I couldn’t explain it, but I missed her. Not for her stringent rules, marble-like principles, and caustic attitude toward me this morning. I missed the moments in-between.
I missed the woman I had gotten to know, in spite of her efforts to conceal herself. A woman who sang from the top of her lungs, and unflinchingly spoke of a rough childhood and a scarring incident that had made her hate Valentine’s to the point of paling at the name then throwing up. Who ate like a nun but cursed like a sailor. Who didn’t flaunt her body, though she had one to show. The woman Rio had spoken of. The one who looked at the ocean as if it was a loved one. The woman who was a challenging enigma and the opposite of simple.
The woman whose touch on my bare chest two days ago I could still feel.
Parking outside her shop in Wayford, I surveyed the area before going in. So, this was Jerry’s building that had gotten June into trouble. The antique gallery next door must have been the one who wanted to buy and expand into her part before Jerry had given her right of first refusal. I wondered if Jerry had known that, at some point, he’d leave the renter the choice between closing down or buying the property. If I ever found out that he had, I’d break a guitar over his head.
The shop itself was more spacious, but the décor was almost identical to the one in Riviera View. A guy wearing the shop’s apron, who I figured was Adam, was arranging shelves, and June was busy with a customer.
“Try this for a few days. It should significantly ease the discomfort. But if this is something you’ve been dealing with for a while, please see a doctor, too, just in case,” I heard June say, handing the older man a round box.
“I don’t like doctors,” the man replied.
June scrunched her mouth sideways in commiseration. “I get that, but in combination with alternative medicine, you’ll get the best result. And please, come in in a few days and let me know how it worked.”
I paced along the aisles, but more customers came in and kept her and Adam busy. I could see why she had fought to keep both shops—they were a beautiful and successful business, and her style and touch were visible everywhere.
When she noticed me, her face became as stern as a Mother Superior. I had to remind myself that this was the woman I had heard singing loudly in her car.
I inspected the fine cedar wood of the shelves, sniffed the handmade, scented soy candles, probed the natural scentless soap samples, read the promises on the brown and green packets of powders labeled, “Beets,” “Seaweed,” and something called “Ashwagandha.”
Down one hardwood aisle, I heard June’s voice coming from the other side of it. One of the customers said something, and June laughed. I peeked through the gaps between the products just to see June’s face break into laughter.
Words like zero miles, low temp, seitan, tofu mousse, and bioclimatic greenhouse poured from her mouth now, and the women she was speaking to looked at her enchanted as if she were name-dropping celebrities.
When I saw them follow her to the cash register, I went to wait for her on the other end of the counter. While waiting, I pretended to be considering several offers of flavorless mastic gum, stevia-sweetened carob chocolate, and high-fiber, sugar-free energy bars.
“Come in again. We have something new every week,” June, all smiles, said.
When they left, she sailed along the counter to where I was still scrutinizing the sad candy. “What are you doing here?” she whisper-hissed, the Mother Superior sternness back on her face.
