Page 4 of The Charmer

Zelda looked at me. "Are you sure? You're tired too. You were here before everyone else."

True. But the work was endless, and if I didn't make it happen, no one would. There was no way I could ask them to come at six o'clock in the morning like I did when they were already so overworked.

"I'm fine.” I stretched my arms over my head, plastering a smile on my face. "Everyone, thank you so much for going above and beyond. I promise I'll make things work. We'll get back on our feet."

Zelda gave me an uneasy smile while the rest of the team fidgeted in their spots.

I sighed. No one truly believed that. I wasn’t sure I did either.

"We'll see you on Monday.” Zelda narrowed her eyes. "Are you going to be here tomorrow as well?"

I pressed my lips together and then gave her a guilty smile. "Of course. The shop is open."

"But you’ll be working on more masks, too, won't you?"

"Yeah.”

"Look, I'll come, too, and—”

"Absolutely not," I interrupted her. "Come on, all of you, go. You deserve Sunday off. Things will calm down after Mardi Gras."

That was an understatement. Things might calm down permanently after Mardi Gras if I didn't manage to get some customers quickly.

I followed the team and, for no reason at all, started smiling. I loved my shop.

We had a little workshop in the back, although we did have a bigger operation near the warehouse. But at the moment, we were working on our exclusive handmade masks right here. People went wild for them last year.

The rest of the team filtered out while Zelda hesitated in the doorway. "Georgie," she said, "I'll come tomorrow."

"Please don't. Look, you're young. It's Saturday night. Go wild in the Quarter. But not too wild, so stay safe."

She laughed. "I'm young? I'm the same age as you."

I often forgot that I was twenty-eight. I'd been working at the shop since I was thirteen. In many ways, I felt like I was middle-aged already, especially now. The flood definitely added ten years to my life.

"There’s no need. I'll work on the masks from the front so I can also tend to customers.”

"If the shop is swamped, give me a shout and I'll come here, okay?"

"Thanks, Zelda."

I gave her a quick hug. She was a great friend.

After she left, I locked the door, turned the sign to Closed, and sighed. I'd been running back and forth today between tending to the shop and painting the masks, which was why everyone else had done far more masks than I had. The truth was, I would be swamped tomorrow because the Carnival season was approaching. But my team needed to rest.

I’d intended to hire some part-timers like I did every year, but the flood near killed us, and I just didn’t have the funds to even think about extra help.

I loved, loved, loved Books & Beads. It was on Burgundy Street, where rent was acceptable and foot traffic was still great. It had been in my family for two generations. I came from a long line of strong Southern women. My nana had been a single mom and opened the shop all on her own. Then my mom took it over. She’d also been a single mom, and I'd practically grown up here in the store. Once I was thirteen, I was an unofficial part-time employee. After I finished my homework, I worked here right up to closing time. Then Mom and I would go back home to finish up on other chores. Once I turned sixteen, she hired me officially, paycheck and all. I’d felt like I was rich.

I studied business at Loyola College because I'd been determined to run this place successfully. Up until this flood, I’d done so well. I had insurance to cover much of the damage, so thankfully the repair work was moving quickly. But the main problem was that the contracts we used were old, from my grandmother’s time.

She’d been far too lenient, allowing customers a loophole in case of natural disasters. Even if we could still deliver on time, they could cancel the contract without penalty.

My team and I had worked tirelessly since that fateful night two weeks ago, but our big, longtime family customers still dropped us. The one that hurt most was the LeBlanc deal because we were currently making all the costumes and decorations for their float. I’d used the insurance money to fix everything the flood had damaged—which I’d told Julian LeBlanc repeatedly. It seemed he just didn’t care, and now I was sitting on all that inventory.

I clenched my jaw at the thought of that coward. He wouldn’t even discuss this with me. I was sure if we met, he could see our progress and reconsider. But no, he was an ass. He’d just let his lawyers and their legal jargon handle it, and in my book, that was cowardly.

But I was determined to stay positive. Things would work out one way or another.

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