Page 39 of Do It With Me

Eventually, I realized there was nothing here for me right now. No customers and no hope. I decided to head home. There was no use hanging around. If I was just going to be moping anyway, I might as well do it at home with my mom.

By the time I got there, the place smelled faintly of lavender and laundry detergent, which meant Bree had been here long enough to work miracles. I found her drinking a cup of tea in the kitchen and she frowned when she saw me. “Hey, girl. What are you doing home?”

“Planning,” I said vaguely, peering toward the hall when I didn’t see my mom anywhere. “Is she⁠—”

“Napping,” Bree said. “We had a rough morning, but we’ve also made some progress.”

I frowned. “Progress?”

“We’ve been working on it for a few days.” She pointed at a small whiteboard resting against the kitchen wall. It held a list that read: “Today we: eat breakfast, fold towels, watch Jeopardy, rest.”

My throat did that annoying thing when it became so tight that I could barely breathe. “You made her a list?”

Bree smiled. “She likes checking things off. It gives her a sense of control. When she starts to spiral, I remind her what we’ve already done. It helps.”

“That’s genius,” I said once I’d swallowed past the lump in my throat and rediscovered my voice. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, but I’m just doing my job. She’s a wonderful woman. She just needs a bit of reassurance about where she’s at in her day.” She looked up from her mug. “Are you home for the afternoon or are you going out again?”

“No, I’m home, so you’re welcome to leave if you need to go study. I’m going to be working on some things from here. I didn’t have to be at the store to get them done, so I figured I’d come hang out with Mom while I do it.”

“She’ll be happy to have you home.” Bree picked up her teacup and carried it to the sink. “What are you working on? Do you have an exam coming up or something?”

I shook my head, emptying the jewelry from my pouch onto the kitchen table. “I need to finish a few more of these.”

Afternoon sunlight caught on the gold and silver, throwing sparkles across the walls. My tools were already in the drawer behind me, pliers, brushes, and a magnifying glass. It was sort of like my own version of a surgeon’s tray. If surgeons worked exclusively with rhinestones and existential dread, that is.

Bree washed her cup and then came over, already picking up her tote from the counter and slinging it across her shoulder. “Those are gorgeous. Did you make them?”

I started arranging the pieces. It was either that or start crying about my building being sold. “Most of them. I’m in the process of restoring some and making others out of broken pieces. It’s sort of like turning trash into slightly fancier trash.”

She laughed, her head shaking before she bent down to get a better look. “Your slightly fancier trash looks like really fancy, custom-designed pieces to me.”

“Thanks. I love them too, but at this point, I’m only working on them to give myself something to do.”

“Tough morning?”

“The worst.”

She grimaced. “I’m sorry. If I were you though, I wouldn’t only make these to give myself something to do. They could be selling like hotcakes.”

“That was my hope, but no such luck.”

Her head cocked. “Well, how are you marketing them?”

“They’re in a display cabinet in the store,” I said, then groaned. “Wow. That sounds so lame when I say it out loud. If you have any ideas about what else I can do, I’d be happy to hear them.”

She peered at the table again, reaching out and running the tip of her finger across the carving on a cameo. “Have you ever thought about selling them online?”

“I’ve tried. I have an online store somewhere in the digital void, but it’s basically a ghost town. I haven’t updated it in forever. Between the shop, classes, and my mom, time management hasn’t exactly been my superpower. I don’t even remember which pieces I put on there.”

“You should make time to update it,” Bree said gently. “People love stuff like this, especially if you tell the stories behind them. That’s what makes them special.”

“Online, huh?”

“That’s definitely the way to go for niche stuff like this,” she said. “Take some nice photos. Look at how other people do it. You don’t have to reinvent the wheel. Just steal their good ideas.”

“Steal their good ideas. Got it,” I muttered, smiling. “Maybe I’ll get a degree in Pinterest while I’m at it.”