Page 38 of Do It With Me

17

ELLORA

Determined to keep living in my real world, the one with bills, cracked floor tiles, and wrinkled T-shirts, I started the day early. I needed to make more money and I needed to do it fast. Since the early bird supposedly caught the worm, I figured it was worth a shot, so here I was, just barely after the crack of dawn, already on my way to work.

The Holden fantasy had been a lovely little detour from all this, like finding an oasis in the middle of a desert, but the mirage had faded. The reality was that the trek I was on right now had me smack bang in the middle of the desert, dusty, thirsty, and painfully aware of how far I still had to go.

When he’d called me to his office after my last class, I’d almost cracked. I’d almost told him the whole awful truth my mom, about how bad her condition was getting, and how terribly the store had been suffering recently. I’d almost allowed myself to sink into him, to let him hold me, and to beg him to rescue me like some kind of pathetic damsel in distress.

In the end, I’d remembered that wasn’t me. I didn’t mind asking my friends for help, like when I’d admitted to Mercedes that I had no clue how I was going to choose a dress for the wedding. Help was fine. Smart to ask for when you needed it, even.

What I didn’t do was ask for handouts or to be saved. I didn’t want others to fight my battles for me. Win or lose, they were mine to fight. Mine to learn from and be guided by.

Walking into Josie’s bakery for my coffee, I inhaled the familiar scent of sugar and butter and kept trying to convince myself I’d done the right thing with Holden. Walking away had hurt but not as much as it would’ve in a week from now. A month.

As always, Josie was behind the counter, but instead of her usual cheerful wave, she didn’t even look over at me. Instead, she was talking in hushed tones with our landlord, Mr. Karabekian.

Something about their faces made my stomach drop. Josie was pale, her features drawn while Mr. Karabekian’s eyes were too wide, like he was in shock.

“What’s going on?” I asked, trying to sound casual as I approached them. “You two look like you’re conspiring to take over the world this morning. Or maybe it’s more that you look like you tried to take over the world and failed.”

Josie glanced my way and gave me a small, sad smile, one that kind of felt like a warning. “Good morning, honey. It’s nothing quite as dramatic as world domination. We were just talking about some changes that are going to be happening around here.”

Mr. Karabekian cleared his throat and adjusted his tie. “Josie has decided to close the bakery, Ellora.”

My heart plummeted, my eyes stretching wide. I spun toward my friend. “What? Why?”

“Someone made an offer on my lease,” she said, wringing her flour-dusted hands as she grimaced. “I couldn’t afford to say no to that amount of money. I’m sorry, honey. I’ve been struggling for so long that I…”

Tears stung my eyes, but I didn’t let them fall. I knew where she was coming from and I wouldn’t try to make her feel guilty about doing what was best for her. So I sucked it up and offered her a watery smile. “It’s okay, Josie. You don’t have to apologize.”

Mr. Karabekian cleared his throat again and avoided my gaze when I looked at him. “Ellora, they want to buy the building too. They’ve made an offer and it’s a good one. Too good to turn down.”

“Don’t sell,” I half-blurted, half-begged, panic sharpening my voice. “Please, Mr. Karabekian. This block is our community and it matters. You can’t just sell it off to some faceless corporation.”

He sighed, sorrow in his eyes when they finally met mine. “I understand, believe me, but I have to do what’s best for my family. These developers are throwing around a lot of money, offering well above market value.”

As I opened my mouth to argue, it occurred to me that there was nothing left to say. The decision was already made, so I forced a nod even though my chest felt tight. “Right. Of course. You have to do what’s best for your family.”

That was what this was all about, everyone jumping onboard with these offers because they felt like they had no other choice. These last few years had been tough for us all and with these people—whoever they were—making offers people couldn’t refuse, of course, everyone had to consider what was best for their own families.

Mr. Karabekian gave me a tight smile, nodded at both Josie and me, and walked out, leaving me alone with her. She looked like she wanted to hug me but knew I’d crumble if she did. “Hey, you’ll land on your feet, sweetheart. You always do.”

I didn’t trust my voice enough to answer. I just nodded again and walked upstairs to my shop. The air felt heavier up here today, like the building itself was in mourning. I looked around at the racks of vintage dresses, the half-restored furniture, and the carefully arranged displays that I’d built with my mother’s help.

If Josie’s bakery was as good as gone and the landlord had decided to sell, it was only a matter of time before they came for me too. Slowly wandering around the space while it was still mine, I finally stopped in front of the display case that held the pieces of jewelry I’d restored over the years.

Each one had its own tragic backstory. They had been broken, abandoned, and unloved until I’d come along with my pliers and glue gun like some kind of jewelry fairy godmother. I stared at my lineup of forgotten treasures like they were puppies in a shelter window, first looking at the cracked opal pendant I’d rescued from an estate sale bin that was now hanging proudly from a new chain.

There was a ring I’d made from three broken ones. A Frankenstein situation, but I’d made it into fashion. Next to that were earrings I’d made from two orphaned brooches that were ready for their second act as a mismatched duo.

These pieces were good. Maybe even great. But no one else seemed to agree. People came to the bakery downstairs for muffins, not metaphors about lost potential in the vintage thrift store upstairs.

“It’s a shame,” I muttered to nothing but the glass, like maybe it would feel bad and send someone to buy something.

When that didn’t happen, I unlocked the case, grabbed a few pieces I’d been meaning to finish, and tucked them into a velvet pouch. At least this was something I could tinker with when I got home. Something to keep my hands busy so my brain wouldn’t spiral into chaos.

For the next few hours, I mopped the floors and cleaned up the kitchen. I worked on polishing some of the wooden furniture and did some reading for class. As time went on, I kept glancing at the door, but the bell never jingled, not a single person coming in.