35. Salt – Ava Marx
Skye – 25 years
Ava Marx’s perky voice blared through my headphones, making me smile as I finished up the last report for the staff meeting tomorrow. Ironically, the song,Saltresonated with the way I lived my life now.
I stood to retrieve a file from the cabinet behind me, singing the words and doing a little whirl as I did.
Three years ago, after saying goodbye to Shay for the second time, I approached my life with a changed perspective. I needed to live in the now and not the past. Shay had his life and I had mine. He’d chosen Ryleigh over me. So, I picked up the pieces from the first three years and redirected the last three years. Now, not only was I a proud mom but the manager of the largest and only shopping mall in Blue Haven. I had a count of a hundred and twenty employees, three levels of everything you’d need to clothe the entire family and bonus, we were doing extremely well.
I’d become stronger with time, fiercely independent and my own boss when it came to my life outside the store. Life was good. Here, I stayed off social media, never discussed my past and apart from Dad who visited occasionally, I had no ties to the people who’d played a role in my life before.
“Hey, babe.” Paris zipped into my office and crashed her hands on my desk, making me literally jump out of my recollections.
I yanked the wireless earphones out, dropped them to my table and glared at her. “What are you doing here, Paris?”
Even though I’d threatened to warn security about not letting her up to my office, it did little to faze her erratic visits. If I knew her well, she would probably bribe security with her famous red velvet cupcakes laced with potent cream cheese icing that were to die for. Admittedly, she had this charming way about her that always made me pander to her whims and why she’d become my closest friend over the last three years.
Ignoring my scowl like she always did, she grabbed my apple, rubbed it against a pink tank I considered too risky for her double D-cups and bit into it. “I need a favor,” she said around the masticated fruit.
“What favor?” No matter how much I’d want to hate this brash, beautiful, sometimes irresponsible woman, I couldn’t. She was like a breath of fresh air one needed on a dull afternoon and downright loveable, but I didn’t tell her that. On occasion she reminded me of Laika, who I’d left behind in my previous life.
“I need you to show a couple of people, old man Frank’s house—”
My sarcastic laugh cut her off. “What would I know about showing a house?”
Her bottom lip out in a soft pout, her dark eyes wide in the puppy dog look, I wasn’t falling for, she dropped the barely eaten apple in the trash, leaned her palms down on my desk and all but shoved her face in mine. “Pretty please with a cherry on top, Skye.”
As the resident realtor in Blue Haven, Paris’ small office of three, made a decent living renting holiday apartments throughout the year and occasionally selling homes that were few and far between in our town. For the simple reason that once people moved here, they didn’t leave unless they died or were forcibly required to relocate. I didn’t blame them. As small towns went, Blue Haven was peaceful, scenic and most importantly, safe.
“All you have to do is walk them around the property, inside and out, tell them about what’s in the catalogue and answer any questions they might have. I’ll discuss rental or sale price once they’ve shown an interest.” She dropped her pretty rear into the seat opposite mine and fluttered her long lashes at me.
“For all we know that man could be married with a hundred children and is stringing you along,” I scolded and earned myself a disgruntled snort.
Paris was dating a rich man who traveled often for business and vacationed in Blue Haven once a month. I didn’t ask any more details. The less I knew the better. She was a good friend but stubborn as hell and I wasn’t planning on going down this road again. Last night she’d mentioned he’d be in town today and probably why she needed someone to show her clients, Frank’s place.
“And I suppose these clients can’t reschedule?” I arched a brow.
“They’re driving in specifically to see the place.”
“Yeah, right.” I called her bullshit but relented only because I’d liked my now dearly departed neighbor, Frank. His oldish home was one of the fifteen in the road I also lived on. “Fine, I’ll do it. But don’t blame me if I mess—”
“Yes,” her loud shriek cut me off as she shot to her feet, rounded my desk and grasped me in a hug. “Thank you. I owe you. Any time you want to me babysit, I’m here.”
“That’ll be the day,” I scoffed. Paris was terrified of children, any way she could avoid them, she would. Regardless, for some odd reason, my son seemed to placate her fears and she was willing to put up with him—for short periods. Maybe it was because she lived with us or maybe because he was the sweetest, gentlest kid out there.
I’m allowed to be biased.
Laughing, she blew me a kiss before walking out of my office.
Two hours later, I smiled at the couple standing in one of the two bedrooms, admiring the sculpted ceiling. I glanced at my watch, hearing the second couple chatting in the other room. They were very early so I didn’t bother going to meet them yet.
“May we?” The woman pointed to the stairs leading to the attic.
