Even with your husband. Even if you love him very much.
THIRTY-FOUR2023
Aimee
The cool, chilly days of autumn gave the promise of crackling fires, warm holidays, cozy clothing, and the hope of a magical snowfall. Okay, I guess most people didn’t consider a snowfall magical, but I did. When I was a kid, I loved waking up to snow falling outside my window and if it was a school day, hoped and prayed that we would receive a phone call that school was closed for the day, leaving me free to build snowmen and snow forts. As an adult, I loved having a hot cup of something, coffee, tea, hot chocolate, whatever, and watching the snow fall outside my window, covering everything with its magic fairy dust. Snow was the one thing I missed in California.
It was mid-November now, two months since Robin’s death. Business at the store was booming with the fall harvest, pumpkins, gourds, and apples selling out most days. My baked goods were now pumpkin bread, apple and pumpkin muffins, and pumpkin cake with cream cheese icing. Archie made a few more items too, two benches—one sold, one left—and some cute wooden jack-o’-lanterns that sold out the first day I brought them in.
Today I stocked butternut squash, cauliflower and winter squash, the butternut squash quite an abundant crop. The pumpkins lining the front wall were almost all gone now. All the large ones were bought in the Halloween rush for carving pumpkins. Only the smaller ones and some of the tiny Jack B Littles, my personal favorites, were left.
“Aimee, would you like me to put the jams on the shelf?” Rachel asked. She adjusted her black bonnet.
I looked over to her, standing by the cash register. “Yes, that would be great. Thanks, Rachel.”
Hiring Rachel had been a good move on my part. She was a hard worker, always on time and very reliable. If I had something going on and couldn’t make it into the store, she was always willing to step in and cover the store for me. She was also a very nice person.
I missed Robin. I missed having a girlfriend to gossip with and talk about silly things. The closest I had to a girlfriend now was Rachel, but our conversations didn’t go much beyond food and the weather. I didn’t see her going out for drinks or talking about hot cops. She invited me to go to an ice cream social at her church last month. Thoughtful of her to ask, but not really my scene.
The bell jingled. I looked over and smiled.
My smile froze on my face.
John.
I turned to him. “Hello,” I greeted in what I hoped was a friendly tone.
“Hi, Aimee,” he said, smiling widely. He turned to Rachel, still stocking the apple jam. “Hi, Rachel.”
“Hello,” she said demurely.
John walked over to Rachel. “What kind of jam is that?”
She held up a jar. “Apple.”
“I’ll take two of those, please,” he said, taking two from the shelf.
Rachel nodded and went back to stocking.
I stared at him as he walked around the store, picking up a bunch of cauliflower, eggs, a container of goat’s milk hand lotion, and a box of homemade chocolate candies.
John had been acting truly weird lately. It seemed as if he had transferred his creepy lurking previously saved for Robin over to me, and possibly Rachel, although it may just have been that she was usually around. He stopped in frequently at the store, often hanging around when we closed and walking out with us. Lingering long after he purchased his items. Moving uncomfortably close to me when having a conversation. I had mentioned it to Archie, but of course he hadn’t noticed anything.
I went to the register and rang up his purchases.
“How’s business?” he asked.
I smiled. He should know. He was in here every other day. How much jam could he and his grandma eat?
“Busy.”
“I’m surprised Archie’s other bench hasn’t sold yet,” he remarked. “Grandma and I love ours.”
“Glad to hear it,” I replied. I handed him the bag. “I’m sure it will sell by Christmas.”
“Hard to believe Thanksgiving is just around the corner,” he said, picking up the bag.
“Sure is. Have a good day, John,” I said, trying to nudge him out the door.
“What are you and Archie doing for Thanksgiving?”
“Making turkey like everyone else,” I replied. When was this guy going to leave?
“Are you having company over?”
“Um… maybe. Not sure yet.”
“Okay, what about you, Rachel?”
“Having dinner with my family,” she replied in a quiet voice.
The door jingled and two customers walked in. Saved by the bell. Thank goodness.
“Thanks, John, have a good day,” I repeated, hurrying over to the customers.
John finally got the hint and left the store. After the other customers exited, with bags of squash and homemade yogurt, Rachel wiped the counter by the cash register.
“Are you friends with that John guy?” she asked.
