Page 28 of Just For Her

Tove glanced at the cloud-covered sky. “Probably. I’ll take that over more snow.”

“Don’t I know it. Reckon I’ve seen enough snow until December.”

“Which means we’ll get at least two more decent snowfalls before summer.”

“Then it’s hot as hell for three months. At least.”

“At least.”

The required small talk out of the way, Tove paid her bill and escorted herself back to her office. Along the way, she bumped into a small crowd of late winter tourists coming out of one of downtown Bend’s many souvenir shops. This one catered to those searching for things on the practical side, eschewing the small spoons and shot glasses in favor of sweatshirts, ball caps, and magnets. Tove knew it well. Whenever she needed to get a local gift for a friend, she came to Trudy’s Gifts, and so did many of the tourists rolling through town. Not only was Trudy’s well located in a high-traffic area, but she had slowly expanded into her neighbors’ spaces over the years and added items made by local artists. Front and center in the main window were a series of soaps and candles made by Katherine O’Brian, whose work did so well at the local markets that she often had a line.

(Next to Katherine’s candles were the illustrious mosaic tile works of Mary Fredriksson, one of Tove’s many, many artistic cousins.)

“Hey, Tove.” Trudy, a woman who was fifteen years older than Tove but had more pep in her step than Aunt Kiersten at seventy, stood in her opened doorway while the tourists walked away with their souvenir-laden bags. “Window shopping? Or looking for something in particular?”

“Oh, just window shopping.” Tove finished putting on her gloves, although she knew she’d be taking them off again in a few minutes. “Stretching my legs before I get back to IRS forms. Are you all set for this year, Tru?”

“As usual, I filed first thing in February. With Jonas, my nephew.”

“As you should. Family looks out for family.” Tove would know. That had been her reason for life for the past twenty years.I met Trudy twenty years ago this June.Back when the shop occupied one retail space and only had T-shirts, hats, and kitschy coffee mugs. Since Bend’s big break a decade ago, more shops had popped up, until most of downtown was a veritable mesh of gift shops, wine bars, and doggy daycares. Some with the Fredriksson stamp of approval, no less.According to the tax receipts crossing my desk, half of these stores are either owned by or invested in by one of my family members.So it went.

“How’s your family doing?”

Tove looked away from her cousin’s rendition ofThe Last Supper, as told in mosaic tiles. She couldn’t believe Trudy actually sold that stuff, and yet she could – knowing Mary, who wanted for no money, shepaidto be placed in stores like Trudy’s. “They’re fine,” Tove said with a high-pitched sigh that conveyed all was not necessarily fine. “Well, I actually don’t know that. I only keep regular contact with like… five of them.” It wasn’t always the ones she wanted to see, either. “I’m assuming they’re fine. I haven’t received anything from the family listserv about a recent death.”

Trudy laughed. “Make sure you take care, huh? Some of your family drama trickles back here on the downtown grapevine. I’ve heard all about Thomas and his divorce.”

“Including the fact they’re no longer getting divorced?”

“Apparently. I can’t keep up with who is marrying and who is divorcing anymore. Are you still single? If you do get married, please invite me to the wedding.”

Tove cracked a smile. “You’ll be the first to know. I’ll open my registry in your shop.”

“Make it quick, huh? Believe it or not, I’m thinking about selling.”

“What? Since when?”

“Since my mother died a couple of years ago, but it’s not until these past few months I’m seriously considering it. I’m getting up there in age, and the cold winters here are getting to me.”

“Don’t retire to the coast. Your joints will hate you.”

“That’s what I’ve heard! If I move anywhere, it’ll probably be Idaho or Nevada. I want some dry winters for once.”

“Has anyone expressed interest in the shop?”

“Oh, I haven’t told anyone yet except my kids. You know, the boy and one of the girls live around here still. One of them might want it. Would make things easier.” Trudy kicked one foot to the side as she leaned in the entryway of her shop. “You interested, Tove? I know how much you love these places. Pretty laid-back job for an entrepreneur.”

Tove hadn’t expected a question like that. Not in the middle of tax season, when her head was full of numbers and the choice words her family members had about them. “You know I couldn’t. Everything says it’s a terrible financial idea for me.”

“Ah, can’t say I didn’t let you know first.”

“Thanks, Tru. I’ve gotta get back to the office for my one o’clock.”

“Sure thing, hon.”

Tove pulled herself away from Trudy’s shop, but not without the urge to look back at the warm lights, the meticulously arranged displays, and the thoughtful products that married local finesse with the exact kind of things the tourists wanted.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”the schools, as well as Tove’s mother, had asked her when she was a child.“A doctor? A teacher? How about a policewoman?”

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