Page 117 of Just Like Starting Over
“How so?” She gets in the car and I head for our favourite discount clothing place. She needs a couple of white blouses and some black pants for work, at the very least.
“Well, look at the café. People pay cash or with a credit card. We get that money right away.”
“But Merrie has to buy ingredients sooner than that so she can make their meals.”
“Right. So, a lot of that we put on credit and pay in thirty days.”
“I don’t think I should ask Mike for credit for the seeds.”
“No, neither do I, but there might be something else that you can pay for that way. Like, if you need buckets for your display.”
“I do! I want those tin ones that they use in Paris. I found some online…”
“Maybe you can find some vintage or used ones instead of buying new. Take your vision board down to Willow. She may have some ideas for you – and she might let you put what you need for your stand on layaway until you have flowers to sell. Try the thrift store or the dollar store. Think of ways tonotspend what money you have, or to spend less of it.”
She nods solemnly.
“First up, shirts and pants for work.”
“I can wear some old jeans for working in the greenhouse,” she agrees.
“Can you file a business name online? Because we need that before we open the bank account forBee Happy. Then you can apply for a tax number.” I drive and her thumbs fly as she hunts down the answer.
Before we head into the store, I send Mike a message and ask him if we could stop to talk to Pat. Ten minutes later, he sends me directions and says that Pat will be available all afternoon. He ends with a thumbs-up and a rose, which makes me smile.
Sierra is reading the text over my shoulder. “Don’t forget the council meeting in Havelock tonight, Mom.”
As if I could. Patrick Cavendish filed a complaint with the Havelock city council over Luke’s renovation of the Odeon theatre and his plan to host a concert there. I think Patrick has ensured that everyone despises him in town, just with that one move. A lot of businesses, ours included, are counting on the extra traffic. The motels and campgroundsare booked to capacity. The tribute concert promises to be quite the event.
“I have to be there to support my non-dad,” Sierra says.
“From what I’ve heard, half the town will be there to support Luke and his band’s concert.”
“Good. Nasty people shouldn’t be allowed to win.”
She’s got it in one, making me wonder again how I’ll tell Mike the worst of it.
Luke wins.Actually, he wins against Patrick with Daphne’s help. The mood afterward is celebratory – well, for everyone except Patrick. We end up at the café because Merrie spontaneously invites people back there and it ends up being a late night. Mike doesn’t make an appearance. When I text about it, he sends me a picture of yellow and red cherry tomatoes. They look like the new variety and there are stacked flats of them in a warehouse.
“Trouble with the custom logo,” he says, as if that explains everything.
“You sound tired.”
“No rest for the wicked and all that.” He sighs. “Give Luke my congrats.”
I have to go then, because there are drinks to serve. I blow him a kiss and ask him to call me later, when he’s done.
When I finally head outto the Subaru, Queen Street is quiet. It’s long past midnight and I yawn as I walk toward the car. The streetlights aren’t that close together, so the light is dim. I can see the blinkingVacancysign at the Maple LeafMotel to the left and the bright lights of the Petro Canada station. To the right is the shadowy silhouette of Big Red and a whole lot of darkened windows in between.
Mike hasn’t called yet, so he’s probably still overseeing the packing of those tomatoes. I check my phone again.
I barely notice the car parked in front of mine, even though there aren’t many cars on the street. I realize it’s a late model Cadillac when the driver’s door opens and I freeze with my own key in my door lock.
“So, itisyou,” Patrick Cavendish says. He stands beside his car, his expression belligerent. “I warned you to stay away.”
Oh, yes, he did. I stop cold.
“My grandmother lives here,” I say, hearing my own hostility. “She needs me right now.”
