Page 54 of Pieces of Heaven

“Why even come here?” she demands, moving aggressively closer.

I think of how Kendra intimidated me with the same gesture. Today, rather than flinch, I grip my hidden shirt and imagine the turtles welcoming Hobo to the cove.

“My parents died, and I wanted a fresh start,” I reply when my brain focuses enough to find the words. “I wanted to succeed. I still hope to, but things aren’t going well. Even if I have to break my lease with you, I’ll pay the penalty as agreed.”

“What about Francis?”

I can’t even picture her grandson’s face. I’m intoxicated by Hobo now. If Velma wasn’t so angry, I’d probably gossip with her over my lovestruck heart.

“There are so many women with their lives organized better than mine,” I babble as I fight a goofy grin. “A man like Francis won’t be alone long.”

“He deserves quality, not garbage from the local bar.”

“I agree. That’s why Francis should feel lucky I was honest with him. I could have dragged things out and wasted his time.”

“You’re doing him a favor, huh?” Velma says, not buying my words.

I’d definitely help my case if I seemed more upset. However, I don’t care about Francis, this woman, her tiny house, or my shop. I only see a world with me following Hobo to wherever his freewheeling heart desires.

“I’m a mess, Velma,” I say, not really lying since I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. “My business is failing. I don’t know what to do with myself. Francis is dodging a bullet by us ending things.”

Velma seems to be a step ahead and ready for my words. “Francis could give you direction. A woman your age shouldn’t be worrying about work, anyway. Francis’s got a better house than that little one out back. He’d take care of you, so you wouldn’t need to work. You could give him a son. Both of your problems would be solved.”

“I’m infertile,” I blurt out, just embracing flat-out lies now. “I got an infection when I was younger. You know what kind of infection I mean, don’t you?” Velma’s horrified expression says she does indeed know what I mean. “I didn’t get it taken care of. I was busy with work. I never dated. It was all hookups. I didn’t even consider anything was really wrong. But by the time I finally got around to checking, I was all messed up inside. I tried a few years back to have a baby on my own, but the specialist said it was no use. That’s the real reason I ended things with Francis. He mentioned kids at dinner that night, and I felt guilty over how I’d never be able to give him one.”

Velma doesn’t waste time talking about surrogates or adoption. Nope, that “infection” thing instantly ends any interest she has in Francis marrying me.

“Well, youdidlive in Vegas,” she mutters and steps back. “You could have told him.”

“I was embarrassed.”

“As you should be,” she says, turning around to walk inside.

I slap my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing until I’m safely in my car. I’ve never been any good at lying, yet I spewed all that bullshit right in her face. Didn’t hesitate at all before building a big, beautiful lie about my whoring days in Vegas.

Driving with my windows down, I laugh the entire way to the shop. I normally care so much what people think of me. I’ve always wanted to be respected. No, even more important than respect, I needed praise. My accomplishments never felt important unless someone else commented on the achievement. I couldn’t just be happy with knowing I did a good job.

Right now, Velma is thinking negatively about me. She’s likely gossiping to her friends about how Francis nearly hooked up with a whore. I can hear all the negative things she’s saying, and I still can’t stop laughing.

At the shop, I consider how Hobo chose to call himself by that insulting name. He didn’t change himself to prove people wrong. I would have done anything to please my enemies. Their approval would always matter more than my own.

Wanting to be more like Hobo, I ignore my sister’s texts today. I’m not interested in the past or her approval.

For weeks, I’ve looked around my shop and felt shame over poor choices. Today, I just admire how I turned the ideas in my head into a reality. The shop is warm like I wanted. The colors are like I pictured. The furniture fits like I planned. Rather than a flop, the shop was what I needed to create to break free from my parents’ shadow. XYZ Coffee is like nothing they ever owned.

As for flopping, well, they had businesses go under, too. They made bad investments. I’m not alone in making mistakes. I’ll survive the shop closing.

Until that happens, I take pride in what I created. I make sandwiches for Goose and Armor, memorizing how they fall into the Steel Berserkers Motorcycle Club family. Later, I keep Glenn’s coffee cup filled as he reads through his newspapers.

Just after eleven, Landry and Rosemary arrive with the former’s four younger kids. My shop is suddenly full of little people. I make them mini-sandwiches.

Landry stands with Brigitte in her arms, keeping watch. Rosemary helps five-year-old Beau with his food so he doesn’t eat too fast. Four-year-old Brooklyn shows me how she can read.

“Mine,” she says about the reading tablet. “Daddy give me. Mine.”

Nearly four-year-old Beckett explains how he left his reading tablet at home. “Read later.”

Landry smiles full of pride at her happy kids. “Blair started school this week, and they were restless without her around,” she says, mentioning her nearly eleven-year-old daughter. “How’s business going?”

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