Page 9 of Snowflakes Over Starr's Fall
“And you don’t want to go with my artisanal take?” Zach pressed, wiping his pickle-juiced hands on his well-worn jeans. “Inviting local artists and craftsmen? Having demonstrations, workshops…”
Jenna heard the enthusiasm in his voice, but she knew she didn’t share it. “Zach, that sounds like something you could do with your furniture restoration business,” she told him with a weary smile. “It would probably be amazing, but it’s your thing, not mine. I don’t need to piggyback on your dream.” And the truth was, Zach’s business was doing way better than hers, not that she was comparing them. Much, anyway. But far too often when cars pulled up to Miller’s Mercantile, it was to go to Miller’s Furniture Restoration, only six months old, in the barn behind. Jenna had lost count of the confused frowns and wrinkled brows of would-be customers stepping into the store and saying, “Sorry… I’m looking for the furniture place…?”
She’d learned to smile as she pointed them in the right direction.
“All right.” Zach was, as ever, equable. “So what’syourdream?”
It was a fair question, and one she didn’t have an answer to. Once, she’d had dreams. Big, rosy, romantic dreams of finding that fairy-tale love and living in New York, having the career and the marriage and everything that came with it. All that had come crashing down around her. And yes, maybe it was pathetic to still feel bruised aftersome guy messed with her heartten years ago. But it hadhurt. And it had made her very reluctant to trust just about anyone—or anything—again. Too good to be true almost alwayswas. Including artisanal workshops and expensive candles.
“My dream,” Jenna told him in a tone that was meant to close down the conversation, “is to keep this place going, whatever it takes.”
“Seriously, Jenna.” Zach’s expression had gone all soft and, Jenna feared, somewhat pitying, which she really could not stand. She was the older sister, the responsible one who had it all together. She definitely did not need her little brother feeling sorry for her. Ever.
“I am serious.” She rose from behind the counter, grabbing a crate of bottles of laundry detergent she’d meant to stack earlier. “Just because you chased your dream of furniture restoration doesn’t mean I have to follow suit. Leave it, Zach.” Her voice held a note of warning, and thankfully Zach heeded it.
“Have you got plans tonight?” he asked instead. “There’s a Scrabble tournament at Your Turn Next. It’s also Nacho Night. Five-dollar cover and all the nachos you can eat. Maggie makes a mean salsa. Why don’t you come along?”
Nachos and Scrabble. There could be worse things, Jenna reflected. A lot worse things. And, more because she didn’t want Zach feeling sorry or, heaven help her,worryingabout her rather than actually wanting her to go, she shrugged her assent. “Sure, I’ll go. Why not?”
* * *
That evening, Jenna was strolling down Main Street, enjoying the September sunshine that set the lampposts afire as twilight began to darken the edges of the sky to violet. The leaves of the maples lining the street were tipped scarlet, and yet the air still held the drowsy warmth of summer. Jenna loved this time of year, when everything felt as if it were on the cusp; it reminded her of her school days, of sharpened pencils and fresh paper and a sense of optimistic possibility that in truth she couldn’t remember feeling in a very long while.
She’d figure it out, she told herself, trying her best to hold on to that fragile, fleeting sense of optimism that the weather had given her. She’d find a way forward for Miller’s Mercantile. Maybe more staples for the average townsperson, some extra decorations at Christmas, a section of prepared meals for the hurried homemaker, or…
Her mind sputtered out like a pickup truck on empty. She just couldn’t think what else to do. She had tried various ideas over the years, admittedly in a cautious and hesitant way that hardly counted, butstill.
Once she’d done a partnership with a deli in Torrington to provide readymade sandwiches, but they’d been so expensive and if no one bought them on the day, she’d had to throw them out or eat them herself—and the loss. She’d eaten way too many Italian subs and had gained ten pounds as an added kicker.
Experimenting could be expensive. And she’d long ago learned not to try to be something you’re not, which was why she was so resistant to gussying up the mercantile like it was a Litchfield deli.
No, she’d have to think of something else… she just didn’t know what yet.
Suppressing the sigh that came too readily to her lips, Jenna opened the door to Your Turn Next, surprised by just how many people were up for Scrabble and Nacho Night. Her friend Liz, who ran Midnight Fashion, Starr’s Fall’s premier—and only—fashion boutique, was there, already swilling what looked like a margarita. The boardgame café didn’t have a liquor license but customers were allowed to bring their own, and Maggie generously didn’t even charge a corkage fee. Liz looked like she’d made about four liters of margaritas, judging by the filled soda bottles on the floor next to her.
Annie was there too, with her boyfriend Mike, both of them taking up the whole of a three-seater sofa. Jenna also spied Joshua and Laurie, a couple so cute they surpassed nauseating and went straight to sublime. Jenna would have been envious except she was too happy for them—Laurie and Joshua had both suffered some seriously hard knocks in their lives, with Joshua’s mother dying when he was a teen and Laurie growing up in foster care. How could anyone begrudge them their happiness?
Maggie’s fifteen-year-old son Ben was hanging out with some of his friends from high school, including Bella Harper, whose parents Lizzy and Michael, new to the town a few years ago, ran the bakery The Rolling Pin. Jenna half-wondered if a romance might one day bloom there; love was in the air for lots of people, it seemed, just not for her.
“Hey, Jenna,” Maggie greeted her warmly from behind the counter. “What can I get you? Latte, cappuccino, mocha…?”
“Margarita,” Jenna decided. “If Liz is sharing.”
“She certainly brought enough,” Maggie replied with a twinkle in her eye. Maggie was another person Jenna was glad to see so happy. She’d moved to Starr’s Fall back in January, a year after she’d been widowed. She and her son Ben had so clearly been bruised by life, and it had been Jenna’s own brother Zach, ten years younger than Maggie and a gamer like Ben, who had helped them to heal. Zach and Maggie had been a couple now for coming on three months, and they tended always to look very loved up.
But Jenna wasn’t envious. Oh, no. She gave Maggie a quick smile before plopping down on the sofa next to Liz. Liz was divorced, happily bitter about it since her husband had run off with another woman and she’d lost their marital home to boot. She was also a wonderful gossip.
“Hey, Liz,” Jenna greeted her. “Mind if I have some of that margarita?”
“Of course!” As ever, Liz sounded ebullient. “Small, medium, or large?”
“What do you think?”
Liz hooted as she reached for a big red plastic cup. “That kind of day?”
“That kind of life,” Jenna replied before she could think better of it as Liz started to pour.
“Oh now, now, none of that,” Liz admonished sternly as she handed Jenna a very full cup. “If women like us start in on the self-pity, there’s no pulling us back from the brink.”
