Page 5 of Something Old

Madeline stopped when they reached the arched doorway leading to the painfully empty room. She waved a hand to introduce the space like it was something she and Aisha had already discussed.

Aisha peered into the large, barren room, then shot Madeline a quizzical look. It was clear she didn’t understand why, after bypassing all the rooms filled with wonderful things, this was what Madeline was so eager to show her.

Madeline grinned. “What were you going to name it?”

Aisha’s green eyes widened. “Pardon?”

“Your store. If you opened it, what were you going to call it?”

There was a moment of awkward silence as Aisha appeared to inwardly wrestle with something. Finally, she spoke. “Reclaimed.”

Madeline could only stare.

“It’s symbolic,” Aisha said almost curtly as if misreading Madeline’s inability to speak as criticism. “I feel really strongly about reducing what goes into our landfills by reusing and repurposing materials that have already been manufactured. I also want to show people that pre-loved stuff can be as useful—and as beautiful and fun to shop for—as new. So, the name is literal—as in, I’m actually reclaiming junk or ‘garbage’ and giving it a new life. But it’s also a weird metaphor for something I’m trying to work through.”

Madeline nodded, not trusting herself to open her mouth, but that seemed enough of a response to encourage Aisha to continue. She went on to share very personal details about her family background, including difficulties she was having surrounding the death of her adoptive mother a few years back and her struggles coming to terms with her dad being in a new relationship—with her birth mother, Sam, of all things.

When she mentioned she had a four-year-old daughter named Mo, Madeline blinked—then felt bad for doing so. But Aisha looked so young. An old quote came back to her, something about how, when you are old, all mothers are young mothers. Madeline wasn’t old, of course, no matter how it felt sometimes, but looking at Aisha, she felt the truth of the statement.

“Yes, I’m young,” Aisha said drily, reading her face. “I was seventeen when I had her.”

Madeline nodded.

“Anyway, long story short—oops, too late!”

Madeline smiled, then grinned, as Aisha rambled on still more about her extended family. Eventually, she got to her point: how her complicated family dynamics related to the idea for her store name.

“It’s like I, personally, was claimed by this new family.” She took a deep breath, then let out a slightly self-conscious sigh. “So yeah. Reclaimed. I already know the value of reshaping and remodeling pre-existing entities, and I’m deeply hoping I can appreciate the new version of my family.”

“It sounds like you already do,” Madeline said softly, then continued musing aloud, more for herself than Aisha. “Making something over is a process, sometimes a tedious one. Plus, even when something’s ‘done,’ it never really is. Every item can be adapted again and again. Relationships are similar. They’re never static. They change and grow—for better or worse—just like us.”

“Yeah,” Aisha said. “Exactly.” She sounded surprised—awed, even—that Madeline got what she was trying to say.

Madeline crossed the airy room. Her throat ached, but she didn’t feel sad—or not exactly. Flattening her hands on the wide windowsill, she stared out at the glorious rosebush and marveled at the timing of Aisha’s appearance in her life. “Reclaimed,” she whispered. “It’s perfect, unbelievably perfect.”

The floor creaked behind her, and she turned. Aisha had started to follow her toward the window, but now she paused, looking uncomfortable. Madeline got it. She’d overshared with strangers a time or two in her life as well. Sometimes, for whatever reason, a person had strangely intimate conversations with people they hardly knew—and then it was easy to feel exposed and vulnerable.

Deciding that getting on with things was the best way to set Aisha’s mind at ease, Madeline clapped her hands once and let loose with her idea. It didn’t matter whether she’d arrived at it out of the blue or not. Her gut said it was right. “This might sound crazy, but I think you’re my hold-up, the reason I kept postponing my opening. I was supposed to have . . . a partner in this scheme, but . . . things changed.” She cleared her throat and forced a smile. “Like my sign says, I’m committed to offering secondhand or upcycled items in addition to new wares. This room is entirely Reclaimed, if you want it. As hands-off or hands-on as you want.”

It was Aisha’s turn to stare mutely—and it made Madeline want to laugh. She didn’t know her well yet, obviously, but she was already fairly certain that few things rendered Aisha speechless.

“You can be in charge of displaying your work, or I’ll do it—whatever you want. I’d like to sell your stuff on commission, but if you’d rather set up a monthly lease agreement, I’m fine with that too.”

When Aisha still didn’t say anything, Madeline worried a bit. Maybe Aisha wanted more than she could offer. “I can’t, at this stage anyway, afford to buy all your stock outright and just sell it myself, but if that’s what you’d prefer, I could start with a few of your bigger ticket items and incorporate them throughout the store—”

“I . . . I . . .” Aisha shook her head. “I didn’t come here to try and weasel my way into your store.”

Madeline’s heart panged. She couldn’t tell Aisha why she was so eager for her to get involved. You remind me so much of my beloved daughter . . . who’s dead. It would feel too weird, like pressure or something. “I know that, but sometimes things work out in ways we couldn’t possibly foresee—or so I hope.”

Aisha shook her head. “That came out wrong. What I meant to say is, I’m super excited, and I accept!”

Madeline laughed out loud, unable to help herself. What could she say? Aisha’s enthusiasm was . . . buoying.

“I’ll fill this room, and it will be just as lovely and interesting as the rest of your store,” Aisha promised, “and on commission is perfect. Does sixty-forty work for you? Like sixty for me, forty for you, I mean?”

“Absolutely.”

“And it’s not a deal-breaker or anything, not by a long shot, but if the designer friend I told you about, Katelyn, wants to be included, can I display and sell her pieces alongside mine?”