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I bite my lip, thinking it over, and then let out a gusty sigh, but the other guys return to us, looking smug.
“All done,” Mac says and high-fives Jake. The door opens, and Jeannie, the manager of Mama’s Deli, walks in, carrying two big brown bags full of food.
“Delivery,” she calls out with a smile. “Oh, it’s already so different in here, Polly. I can’t wait to see it when you’ve finished.”
“I reopen Monday morning,” I inform her as Mac takes the bags off her hands, and I pass her the cash to cover the order. “I have some new things that I think you’re going to love.”
“Now I really can’t wait. I’m so grateful that you carry inclusive sizes for us curvier girls,” Jeannie says with a happy smile.
“Every woman is gorgeous and deserves to wear clothes that make her feel confident,” I reply. “No matter her size. Definitely come see me next week, and I’ll help you shop.”
“I can’t wait. Have a good day, all of you. I’d better get back.”
She hustles out the door, and I turn to find Ryan watching me intently.
“What? Do I have something on my face?”
“No.” He shakes his head and takes a bite of his sandwich. “You’re a good businesswoman.”
Coming from the likes of Ryan Wild, the owner and CEO of Wild Enterprises, a multi-billion-dollar company, that’s a huge compliment.
“Thanks.” I raise my sandwich to tap to his in cheers.
God, I’m tired. Down-to-the-marrow-of-my-bones tired.
But I’m also incredibly satisfied with all the work that I got done today.
It’s past dark when I get home and shuffle into the bedroom, strip out of the yoga pants and tank that I wore to work today, and put on a loose T-shirt and sweats. Then I pad into the kitchen and pour myself a glass of crisp white wine before walking out back to my little patio.
Mac was here earlier this week and power-washed the patio for me, cleaned up my little patio swing, and got the gas fireplace ready to fire up.
So, I start the fire and sit in the swing, gently rocking back and forth as I take in the fragrant spring air.
The birds have settled down, and now I can hear the buzz of a few insects and the engine of a car as they drive past on the road out front. I can smell someone’s grill and the burgers or steak they cooked on it, and it makes my empty stomach grumble.
I haven’t eaten anything since the sandwich this afternoon, and that was long ago and far away.
But I’m too tired to put anything together, and the stove in the kitchen isn’t working anyway. Who has time for house repairs when they have a business to run? Mac would probably fix it for me, but I keep forgetting to mention it.
I’m hardly ever here, so it seems silly to put that at the top of the priority list.
My phone pings with a text, and I grin when I see Summer’s name. She’s my best friend and owns Paula’s Poseys, the floral shop just across from my own. Someone set her business on fire last fall, and she’ll be reopening in a couple of weeks, just in time for wedding season.
Summer: I’m coming to help you tomorrow. You can’t say no.
I laugh and sip my wine. As much as I love touching each piece of clothing myself, with as tired as I am tonight, I know that I need the extra hands if I’m going to open by Monday.
Me: Not saying no! I can use your help, and we can gossip and eat chocolate. Win-win. Come in anytime. I’ll be there by 8.
I check the time. Shit, eight o’clock is in roughly seven hours, so I’d better to go bed.
But I love it out here on my little patio. I like the sounds and smells of the neighborhood. It feels good to know that although my house is old and small and has so much that needs to be fixed up, it’s mine. I worked hard for it. This little piece of the world belongs to me, and I love it here.
My eyes have started to droop, so I finish my wine and go inside, locking the door behind me, then rinse my wineglass out before setting it on the drainer. I need a shower, so I head off for the bathroom. My bathroom is tiny, and it’s the only one in the two-bedroom house. The tub always looks dirty, even though I scrub it weekly. The sink needs to be caulked, and the mirror is cracked in the corner.
I didn’t do that, so I didn’t get the seven years of bad luck from it.
By the time I’m clean, lotioned, and dry, I feel like I’m going to fall over, so I do just that. I’m face down on my pillow, ready to drift off to sleep.
