Page 100 of Keepsakes and Kismet

Waterton Threads has a small handful of customers inside. Caitlyn’s added a few more seasonal decorations since I was here in September. Glittery faux snow is thoughtfully placed on the front shelves, and a garland made of evergreen branches and cranberries is strung along the top of the front windows.

Caitlyn stands behind the register, and an associate wearing a nametag that says “Blair” helps shoppers on the floor.

A little burst of pride swells in my chest at how the shop seems to be thriving. I feel lucky to have played a part, albeit a small one.

I mosey around the store first, running my hand against the high-quality fabrics and lingering on a pair of gorgeous clay earrings in the jewelry case. As I wait for Caitlyn to become available, I overhear customer conversations.

One customer holds her phone up to the associate, showing a picture of what I assume to be clothes. “Do you carry Comfort Poppy?”

Poor Blair, who can’t be any older than nineteen, looks absolutely bewildered. “Comfort Poppy? Are you talking about the clothing line at the grocery store?”

The customer nods. “Yes. I have a return.”

Blair’s eyes dart to the cash register, as if Caitlyn will magically appear and take this question off her hands. “Oh. Um… Unfortunately, we don’t carry supermarket brands here. I sincerely apologize.”

I inwardly clap as she flawlessly executes the universal customer service model of retail: give facts, then promptly apologize for said facts.

The woman purses her lips and walks out the front door. Blair makes eye contact with me, and I shoot her an empathetic “been there” look. The absurdity of customer questions reminds me that I no longer possess the patience to work in retail.

There’s only one customer left in Caitlyn’s line, so I make my way toward the cash register. Caitlyn gives a little wave when she notices me.

The older woman checking out holds up a scarf. “This tag on the scarf says twenty dollars, but how much does this scarf actually cost?”

Caitlyn blinks. “It’s twenty dollars.”

“Can I use farmer’s market coins here?”

“No?”

I breathe out a laugh at her tone, happy to get a hit of Galvin after a heavy day of missing Callum.

The woman huffs. “Well, I don’t want this scarf, then.”

“Okay,” Caitlyn says sweetly. “No problem.”

The woman leaves, and Caitlyn comes out from behind the monitor to join me. “Sorry about the wait, Peyton.”

“No worries. I love browsing your store, and that lady provided some great entertainment for me.”

“If I don’t laugh, I’ll cry. Yesterday, someone tried to trade me a Monopoly property card from McDonald’s for a bracelet.” Caitlyn giggles. “I mean, to be fair, it was Boardwalk—arguably the best card, but…”

“Oh, we’re back to the bartering system now? Good to know.” I grin, tapping the top of the counter. “Moments like this are small-town gold. I wouldn’t want to live anywhere but Waterton.”

“I’m happy to hear it, and I’m sure Cal is, too.”

I sigh. “Speaking of Callum… He’s kind of why I came. He sent me a cryptic text a few days ago, giving me a heads up that I wouldn’t hear from him while he sorts himself out with some personal stuff. I hate to come to you, but I’m worried. Even with the advance notice, it doesn’t feel right.”

The corners of her mouth turn down, but Caitlyn doesn’t look surprised at all.

I fidget with a piece of my hair. “Anyway, have you seen him? It’s okay if he wants alone time, but⁠—”

“I don’t think his phone is on, Peyton. It’s usually turned off this week.”

I adjust the purse on my shoulder. “I… I’m not trying to pry, but, like I said, I’m just⁠—”

“Today’s a really tough day for him. It’s the anniversary of the death of someone he was really close to. He’s told you about his PTSD?” she asks.

“I don’t know the details, and I’m not asking for them. I’m just here to check in and make sure he’s okay—not get information.”