“But why is your name on it?”
“Because they needed a contractor’s name for the permit, and since I was on all the other permits they pulled, they just used mine. Cronies are very understanding in that regard. This is why they are my ex-clients, by the way. I decide what permits I’ll work on.”
“Can we get the permit overturned, or unpulled, or whatever? Go to the mayor?”
“Notice I haven’t said who Mr. Featherston’s crony is.” Con took a sip of his coffee. “Damn, cold.”
“Oh.” Dora’s shoulders slumped.
“But . . . if you need a place for a store, I think I have one. At least short-term. Maybe longer. It depends on what you want.”
Dora looked at him.
“I have an old Victorian down by the university, in that new commerce district. Remember, I told you that Mimi was helping me with advice on how to turn the ground floor into a boutique, or something. For the college kids. It’s not done yet, or anywhere near, but the basement is finished, and dry. I bet most of the store would fit in there, and what doesn’t, we can find a place for.”
“Oh, Con.” Dora didn’t know what to say.
“I told you I’d do anything for Mimi,” he said.
Gabby interrupted. “Dora, that truck will be here soon—you should tell Camille and Tyffanee what you want to do.”
Dora squared her shoulders. Con was a reassuring presence behind her.
“Here’s the deal.” Camille and Tyffanee looked up. They had not gotten much further. In fact, Tyffanee’s bag had already ripped from the hangers, leaving them worse off than when they had started. “I’ll take care of clearing out the store, and guarantee you won’t be fined, and in return you will sign over all the stock to me, and make no claim on the name ‘Mimi’s.’”
“Sounds good to me,” Tyffanee said. “We were just going to throw all this old stuff out, anyway, and if you do it, I can do something
fun
with my weekend.” She glared at her mother. “And besides, we were going to rename the place
Tyffanee’s.
”
“Or
Camille’s
,” Camille put in hastily. “We hadn’t decided.” She looked around at the store’s full racks and shelves. “If that’s what you want, Dora, I’ll do you this favor.”
“Great. You go on and call Uncle John, have him draw something up. He can fax it to the store’s number—it’s written on the machine. We’ll go get some doughnuts while you sort that out.”
Camille started flapping about how was that really
necessary
, and that they were
family
, and how John was
playing golf
, until Tyffanee interrupted. “Shut up, Ma, and call Daddy. Unless you want to explain how we have to pay that honking big fine, on top of everything else.”
Camille glared at Tyffanee, but she dragged out her cell phone and put on her wheedling-wife voice. Dora and Con and Gabby escaped outside.
“We don’t have much time—I’ll see if Maux can help.” Risking death in phoning Maux before noon, Dora filled her in. Maux was surprisingly chipper. “Hell yeah, I’ll be there,” she said. “I’ll bring Harvey, too.”
Maux and Harvey showed up in fifteen minutes, almost awake, Maux wearing men’s jeans and a vintage football jersey that said
WILCOSKI
across the back; Harvey was wearing black jeans, a black T-shirt, a black sweater, and an equally black expression. He mumbled something to Dora that might have been “rat bastards.” Dora hoped he meant the Featherstons and wasn’t just mad to be outside in daylight hours.
The truck was there in twenty-seven minutes. Gabby timed it. Jolly Jerry (just Jerry, Dora corrected herself) climbed out from the cab and kissed Gabby resoundingly. Blushing prettily, Gabby handed him a doughnut.
“I called a couple guys to help load and pack,” he said, as they emerged from the cab after him. “I thought this pretty rattlebrain wife of mine might have forgotten that.” He put an arm around Gabby and squeezed, making her giggle and jump.
Camille emerged from the store and handed Dora the fax, curling and flimsy from Mimi’s old fax machine. “There you go,” she said. “John said that would do.” From her sour-pickle expression, Dora guessed John had said some other things that she hadn’t wanted to hear.
Dora read through John’s legalese, making sure he hadn’t tried anything sneaky. Camille stood by and fumed, until Dora said, “Looks okay.”
“Ma?” Tyffanee was calling from the doorway. “Let’s go, before I break another nail, okay?”
• • •
It was a near thing, but they got everything into the truck before five. Jerry’s helpers handled the heaviest of the fixtures, and Harvey wangled supervising the loading of the truck, and Maux, carrying the heaviest of the boxes, made some scathing comments about poets.
At ten minutes to five, Dora was sweeping out the storeroom, more than ready for the building agent, a guy she vaguely recognized from high school. “Sorry about this,” he said, as Dora handed him the keys. He looked puzzled when Dora assured him with a smile that it was no trouble at all.
“Lord, I’m tired,” Gabby said, leaning against Jerry. The truck and loaders had gone to a secure storage lot. He assured them that he himself had locked a padlock on the door, and handed the key to Dora. “You just call when you want it all back, and I’ll have it over just as soon as you hang up the phone,” he said. He gave her a crushing hug. “I feel almost like you’re my own—I don’t know—niece? Gabby talks about you so much.” He grabbed Gabby’s hand. “We had reservations for tonight, I better take her off to get cleaned up, and me, too.” He leaned in toward Dora, and said in a stage whisper, “She cleans up better’n I do, but don’t tell her I said that.” Gabby laughed and smacked him on the arm.
Gabby leaned over and whispered to Dora: “I hope you don’t mind if Jerry stays over with me tonight. That senior-living place smells too much like disinfectant.” She wrinkled her nose. “We’ve been house-hunting, but we haven’t found any place we both like yet.”
Harvey and Maux peeled off, too. “We’ve got to go listen to a friend of Harvey’s read his new work,” Maux said.
Harvey scowled. “It’s derivative, but Maux likes it.”
“Ignore him,” Maux said, and hugged Dora goodbye. “Call me early tomorrow, okay? Like, noon early.”
That left just Con and Dora. “What do you want to do first?” he asked. “See the space, or eat?” Dora almost pointed out that he was taking it for granted that Dora would want to do both, but she found she didn’t really mind.
“I want to grab sandwiches and eat in the space. Soak up the atmosphere.”
“Soak up some dust, is more like it, but sure. Lud’s to go?”
“Sure.” Dora couldn’t believe she’d been angry enough to run him over the night before.
They didn’t talk on the way to Lud’s. But as he pulled into the drive-through lane he asked, “Italian, easy on the hot peppers, Diet Coke?”
“I’m impressed you remembered.” Dora grinned. “Roast beef and cheddar with peppers?”
“I’m impressed
you
remembered. Oh, wait, that was Mimi’s favorite, too.” Con looked over at Dora. “I think she would have been proud of you today.”
“Gabby did all the heavy lifting. Well, all the metaphorical heavy lifting. You and Maux and Jerry’s guys did all the literal heavy lifting.”
“But she only called in a favor because you were willing to fight for it.”
“And ready to serve Camille a wrong turn,” Dora pointed out.
“That, too. But still.”
Dora didn’t answer, but she smiled at him, maybe her first real smile since she’d lost Mimi. It felt strange, but not terrible.
Dora was impressed by the Victorian. Con stumbled over himself trying to apologize for it. “It needs to be painted—Mimi was helping me with the painted-lady colors—and I have new windows on order, and the steps will be repaired. . . .” He stopped short. “I’ll have more time for this renovation, if not all that much money, now that I’ve quit the Featherstons.” He sighed. “The plan was that I would use the money from their job to finish this renovation, and then sell this place.” He unlocked the front door. “I’m really hoping I don’t have to sell it before I can finish it—I’ll barely make back my investment if I have to do that.”
They ate their sandwiches sitting on overturned milk crates in the old parlor.
“Mimi said the two front parlors would make good boutique space, and we could turn the old pantry into a dressing room. The kitchen and dining room would be the storage space and back room. She thought this place had a lot of possibility.”
Dora looked around. “I think the clothes would seem more at home here. The space downtown was pretty sterile. Too new, even though Mimi’d been there for years.”
“This neighborhood’s up and coming, too.” Con sounded like he was trying to convince himself.
“Oh, totally,” Dora said. “The students won’t bother to go downtown if there’s enough here for them.” She looked around. “What’s upstairs?”
“Oh, three apartments. One’s mine.”
“And the other ones?” Dora asked.
“Well, one’s a two-bedroom. It’s rented—a young couple with a baby.” Con smiled. “They keep making noises about moving, needing more space, but they haven’t yet. The other’s a one-bedroom, but it’s not finished yet.”
“Sold.”
“Huh? What do you mean, ‘sold’?”
“I mean, sell it to me! Or at least part of it? I can sell Mimi’s house, plus I can use the life-insurance money, since I won’t need it for grad school. Or maybe I could lend you money to finish it? Don’t some businesses pay their landlords to have space finished the way they want it?”
“Dora, you shouldn’t make any big decisions now. Especially when you have mayonnaise on your face.” He reached out and wiped the corner of her mouth with his napkin.
“I’m serious. Gabby loves that house, and she and Jerry need a place. I could sell it to them—Jerry’s obviously loaded—and then I could still go back whenever I missed Mimi. Half the furniture is Gabby’s anyway.” Dora looked up at the ceiling. “I’d need a place to live. How long would it take you to finish that other one-bedroom apartment?”
“You have it all planned out.” Con sounded impressed. “Well, if you’re not too picky about fixtures . . . not long.” He folded up the paper from his sandwich precisely into quarters and shoved it in the bag.
“I won’t make you rip out perfectly good sinks, if that’s what you mean,” Dora said, and yawned in spite of herself. Con looked solicitous. “I saw that. I’m taking you home.”
“I won’t argue. I may fall asleep in the car.” Dora yawned again.
“As long as you don’t snore . . .”
Dora laughed and threw her balled-up sandwich wrapper at him.
Dora did almost fall asleep on the way home. Con tried to be quiet, but couldn’t help asking her how she felt about wood floors versus linoleum, and where she thought the register ought to be.
“Mimi already answered these questions, didn’t she?” Dora asked, as they pulled up to the house.
“She did, but I’m just double-checking with you.”
“I want whatever Mimi wanted,” Dora said.
“That’s very good,” said Con. He took a deep breath. “Because Mimi wanted me to ask you out. Although she might have said ‘court you.’ I thought I should tell you before we become business partners. Or landlord and tenant. In case you think I have ulterior motives.”
He looked so painfully earnest that Dora almost laughed.
“Well, if Mimi wanted it . . . ,” Dora said. She smiled. Con leaned in for a kiss.
Not sloppy at all, Dora thought.
“I don’t know if you noticed, but Gabby just flicked the porch light off and then on again,” Dora said.
“I haven’t noticed anything outside a two-foot radius for the last ten minutes,” Con admitted.
“That was her signal in high school that I’d been in some boy’s car long enough.”
“Some boy’s car?” Con looked dismayed.
“Well, usually I was spending the ten minutes talking nervously and at top speed, so very little kissing actually happened. But I was grateful to Gabby for thinking it was. And sometimes for getting me out of it.”
“Are you happy to be ‘getting out of it’ now?”
“Not at all.” Dora put her hand up to Con’s face. “I say we make her flip that switch a couple more times.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Con said, when Dora finally opened the door to go.
“You’d better,” Dora answered. “I’m your new tenant, and I expect a very responsive landlord.”
“You got it.” Con smiled.
Chapter Sixteen
D
ora’s phone rang early the next morning. It was Maux.
“I can’t sleep for shit, so it’s my turn to wake you up. What are you doing today? Besides thinking about Con,” she added.
“How . . .”
“Oh, please, like it wasn’t obvious. He’s been, like, crazy in love with you for months.”
“But we only met last week!” Dora was wide awake now.
“I guess Mimi talked you up so much he was intrigued. And then smitten. And then infatuated. And so on. I used to overhear their conversations in the store. Ninety percent about you, and ten percent about everything else.” Maux sounded smug. “I was the one who suggested to Mimi that she should introduce you to Con, by the way.”
“You can’t start matchmaking before you even get married,” Dora protested. “That’s not how it works.”
“Who died and made you the matchmaking referee? Anyway, what are you doing today? Let’s go get sweet rolls.”
Dora sat up in bed. “I have to go get Mimi’s urn. Out of the safe-deposit box. And pick up her ashes from the crematorium.”
“Oh.” Maux paused. “I can go with you, if you want.”
“It’s okay, I can do it.” Dora hesitated. “I’d rather do it alone, I think. But we can get sweet rolls first, if you come pick me up. Con drove me home last night, and my car’s still downtown. I’d better get there before ten or I’m going to get a ticket.”