Page 31 of Something Old

Sensing Gwen’s rush of words was something she really needed to get out, Madeline listened quietly and hoped another customer wouldn’t intrude until Gwen was done.

“We were going to travel wherever the urge took us, spend spring and summers up here, and then snowbird to Mexico or Arizona or just . . . wherever. A new place every year.” Her face was animated, but her hazel eyes were far away, and Madeline knew she was traveling in her imagination with Mick. “But then, Mick had an aneurism and died, and Lily . . . ” Gwen’s voice petered away, unconsciously or consciously, Madeline didn’t know which.

Eventually, Gwen spoke again, “Anyway, she took a bad turn. And I . . . well, sold the motor home—at a huge loss, of course—and bought a much smaller home than I had initially because the housing market spiked in the interim, plus I needed to keep something back to help with the cost of raising the kids, and they all moved in with me.”

“That is a staggering amount of change in a short time,” Madeline whispered.

“Yes,” Gwen agreed, but now she didn’t sound sad or soft-natured. She was firm, almost defiant. “That’s the other reason I like coming in here. Because I’d already heard your story from Kelsey at the hardware store.”

“What?”

Gwen looked ashamed. “I hope you’ll forgive me, but I was having a really hard time when I heard about you and your shop, just before it opened, and I thought . . . if she can survive and thrive, I can too. Maybe. I hope.”

Madeline stared at Gwen for a very long time. “If you . . . If I’m . . .” A strangled laugh escaped her. She didn’t know where to start. With how she spent hours walking her dark store alone? That up until recently, she’d had more imaginary conversations with her dead sister than she’d had with another living soul? That if she was Gwen’s idea of “thriving,” heaven help her because she’d need it!

Gwen interrupted her churning thoughts. “I just mean . . . you’re doing it. You keep waking up and putting one foot in front of the other. You tackled something new.”

Madeline stared some more, then scooped up Boots, who’d managed, in his spectacular, preternatural way, to stay virtually comatose through all the Monika-Gwen craziness. Snuggling his weight against her chest, she breathed a little easier. “Well, yes . . . all right. I agree that I have worked hard to manage that, at least. One foot in front of the other. Go me.”

“Exactly. Like I said, inspiring.”

Boots started up his engine-like purr, and Gwen looked at her half bashfully, half expectantly. Madeline shook her head, and something akin to happiness rushed through her like water through stones. “You’re as crazy as I am.”

The bell above the door rang, and a parade of people—one couple, a single man, and a pair of elderly ladies filed in.

“Wow, rush hour. That’s my cue.” Gwen said in lieu of a goodbye, then faltered. “I hope I haven’t made you uncomfortable and that you don’t hate me for knowing your personal business and seeking you out because of it.”

“Not at all.” Madeline plunked Boots lightly down out of sight behind the counter and quickly glanced at the shoppers. They’d all merrily dispersed to various parts of the shop already. Confident they could manage without her for a bit, she asked a question that had been weighing on her from the moment she discovered Gwen was a widow. “Were you married for a long time?”

“Thirty-two years.”

“And did you love him very much?”

Gwen gave Madeline a long, sad look. “Yes. Dearly—and he, me.”

Madeline misted up, happy for Gwen, but also realizing she’d be no help in this area at least. Then, as Gwen picked up her shopping bag once more, her eyes glinted mischievously, making her look years younger. “Or, to be more accurate, we loved each other dearly during any years, months, and random moments that we didn’t totally hate each other, that is.”

A blurt of surprised laughter burst from Madeline—so loud, the two elderly shoppers looked her way and smiled too. Madeline pressed a hand to her chest, relief pummeling her like a physical force—so strong it hurt. “You can’t know how much I needed to hear that. I . . .” She had no desire to laugh now, and her voice dropped. “I loved my husband too. I did. But . . . I feel so guilty . . .”

“You guys weren’t in a good place when he died?”

Madeline could barely nod.

“You can’t beat yourself up for that. It could happen to any long-married person.”

“I don’t know—”

“Well, I do. Think of it this way. If you’d died, would you want your husband to feel extra terrible just because every little thing wasn’t peachy between you when you passed?”

“Well, actually . . . ”

Gwen laughed as Madeline had intended her to, just as the door’s bells jingled again and Grant walked in. He and Gwen made eye contact and exchanged hellos and how-are-yous—and Madeline was reminded, yet again, of just how small Greenridge was. Of course, Gwen and Grant knew each other.

Madeline smiled and held up one finger. “I’ll just be one minute.”

Grant nodded and moved to check out a display of antique doorknobs and drawer pulls. Gwen waved and started toward the door again.

“Wait,” Madeline called, grabbing an empty bag from under the counter and rushing to her window display. “Don’t forget your purchase.”