A sadistic smile crosses Marjorie’s face as she says, “Renley was not even close to the top choice, rather bottom of the barrel, but the reason the bid was awarded to her was because your family has a reputation for screwing things up and the business society doesn’t want Rudder’s to succeed. We know you don’t have the money, we know you don’t have the experience. We’re giving it three months before pulling the plug and awarding the store to a national chain that offered the business society a hefty check to plant themselves in the middle of Cape Meril.”
“But that…that goes against everything this town is made of. We’re about small businesses and keeping those small businesses alive,” I say, floored that Marjorie is telling us this.
“Not when there is a buy-in check that will help the town further.” Marjorie shrugs. “That’s business. A half-dead candy store is not going to bring in the kind of business this town needs. Rudder’s is prime real estate and it’s wasting away.”
“Rudder’s holds cherished family memories,” I say.
“For you. For others, Ira was a cranky old man who didn’t listen to the business society, and it’s time for it to go, but because we have laws, we have to follow them. You have three months. If I were you, I wouldn’t waste my time; just call it quits now. We all know you won’t succeed.”
Ouch, that’s…that’s really hurtful.
“She will,” Aunt Kitty says. “Just watch, you and your business society will be weeping at the storefront, apologizing for ever thinking otherwise. Just you wait and see.”
“Okay,” Marjorie says sarcastically and then motions her hand toward the door. “I believe you were leaving.”
“Yeah, because we can’t possibly suffer through your tuna breath one more second.” Aunt Kitty pulls a case of Tic Tacs from her pocket and chucks them at Marjorie, hitting her directly in the head. “Treat yourself to a Tac, Marjorie. For the love of God, put an end to your rotten ocean mouth.”
Then she tugs on my arm and leads me out of the bank, my mind racing and my heart breaking.
They don’t believe in me. They only believe I’m capable of failure.
And now, I’m not sure I believe in myself either.
“Here we are,” Aunt Kitty says as she places a mug in front of me, full of her famous margarita concoction.
We’re both on mug number three, because when your town thinks you’re going to fail at something, and you’re chosen for that specific reason, there’s really nothing else you can do other than drink your sorrows away.
Aunt Kitty kicks her feet up on the table and sighs. “I’m toilet-papering her house tonight. I already have the outfit picked, black top, pants…even underwear, and I’ve stocked up on enough toilet paper for the entire state of Vermont to have their bowels slaughtered and still have leftover toilet paper. She won’t know what hit her.”
“Other than she’ll know it was you because you hate her, and apparently she hates you, but no one knows why.”
“Everyone knows why.” She sips her drink from her mug. We’ve found over time that it’s easier to grip a mug when drunk than a margarita glass. “She’s jealous of my talent.”
What talent specifically?
Because Aunt Kitty is an eccentric person. She married young, someone much older than her, and when he passed, he left this house to her, along with everything else he owned. It wasn’t much, but enough for her to invest and not have to ever really work a day in her life. She lives off her retirement, which is restricted in budget, but it works for her. She’s spent her days attempting to be the latest and greatest influencer at the ripe age of fifty-six but focusing on an extremely niche topic, her hobby horse training.
She’s told me the reason she has over two thousand followers is that she’s a woman after her own dreams. Curvaceous, unique, with short legs that you would never expect to be able to jump over a hurdle with a stick horse between them—people find her journey inspiring.
Personally, I think people like her blunder videos more than her success, but who am I to judge her for chasing her dreams?
“You know, she tried getting into hobby horse training once,” Aunt Kitty says and then swallows some more margarita. “She attempted a steeplechase.” She moves her fingers in the air, leaps them over a fake hurdle, and then flattens her hand on her lap. “Splat, that’s what we called her. Couldn’t make it over one hurdle. So she hates me because of my raw talent.”
I nod. “Yeah, I can see that.”
Even though I don’t think that’s the case at all. I think Marjorie hates Aunt Kitty because Aunt Kitty is a loudmouth who doesn’t know when to stay quiet.
“And of course that hate for me transfers to you.”
“Well, technically, it wasn’t Marjorie who made the decision, it was the business society,” I say.
“Trust me, Marjorie had a big part in swaying all those people. Don’t understand how with that tuna breath, but to each their own.” She heavily sighs. “And you know what? How dare she. You’re not a screwup, you’re this town’s Jackie of all trades. If it wasn’t for you, Mayor Sheffield would be swimming around in his own fecal matter because his toilet isn’t working. Dalinda down by the shore would still be traipsing around on that old moldy tile in her kitchen. And that man-slut of a general store owner, David De-HEN-ders, would still be trying to get women off while his smoke detector bled for a new battery.”
She paints quite the picture.
“They’re kind of right, though,” I say. “We already messed up by not having the money.” I still can’t believe I listened to Aunt Kitty when she said she had the money. She lives on a fixed income. What was I thinking? “And there is no way we can get a loan for it now, so it just seems like we’re living up to their expectations.”
“To hell we are. We just need twenty thousand dollars.”
