Marissa hired Polly just a month or so ago, after her former assistant accepted a managerial job at Saks. Polly opens and closes the shop almost every day, which allows Marissa to be on-site only during the time that Bennett is in school. Marissa knows being able to craft her own schedule is a luxury, but it isn’t as idyllic as it sounds. She still has to respond to emails at all hours—especially because many of her suppliers are in different time zones—and she often attends to ancillary tasks, such as following up on delayed shipments or uploading new photos to the store’s website or Instagram, from the bleachers of Bennett’s baseball games or in the early morning when she’s the only one awake in the house. In a sense, she’s always on call.
Marissa moves an antique perfume bottle an inch to the right as she passes a display table, calling out, “Good morning, Polly.”
“Marissa!” Polly steps out of the back room, holding a mug of tea with a red-and-white-striped paper straw. “You’re here early. We finally got in those gorgeous hurricane globes, but two are broken.”
“Wonderful.” Marissa rolls her eyes. “How difficult is it to wrap things properly?”
“I’m sorry—should I send them back?” Polly looks stricken, as if it were her fault.
“No, no, I’ll handle it. Sorry, rough morning. Ignore me, I’m grumpy.”
“Everything okay?”
“I just didn’t sleep well.”
“Well, you look awesome. As always. Love your shirt.”
Marissa gazes down at her navy blue blouse; she’s forgotten what she’s wearing. “Thanks. Matthew gave it to me for Christmas.”
Polly is young and eager, and usually Marissa welcomes Polly’s many questions, knowing she wants to learn the ropes. Marissa doesn’t mind explaining the ins and outs of owning a small business. But today, she craves quiet. The second session with Avery is tonight, and Marissa can think of little else. Just before she left the house, she sent Matthew a text reminding him, but he hasn’t replied. What if he doesn’t come home in time?
“Should I change up the window display?” Polly abruptly tips her head and untucks her hair from behind her ears in a strange, jerky motion.
“Sure. Let’s do something cute with the bathrobes and slippers.” Marissa already has a vision in her mind; she’ll let Polly give it a shot, then she’ll tweak it.
But for once, Polly isn’t peppering Marissa with questions. She’s still fiddling with her long brown hair.
“I’ll get started.” Polly starts to spin around, and that’s when Marissa notices the distinctive chunky gold-and-onyx earrings Polly is wearing—earrings that adorned Marissa’s own earlobes just yesterday. She’d taken them off and left them on her desk when her AirPods died and she’d had to press her cell phone to her ear.
“Polly? Are those my—”
“You left them here,” Polly blurts, a cherry-colored flush spreading across her fair skin. “I’m sorry, I was worried they’d get lost—I was just—I thought I’d hold them for you.…”
“I see.” The earrings are pierced; it feels a little gross that Polly slid them into her lobes. It would’ve been easy for her to simply put them aside in a safe place.
Polly removes the earrings and holds them out in her palm, casting her big brown eyes toward the floor.
Marissa takes the jewelry, making a mental note to sanitize the pieces before wearing them again.
“Okay, let’s see what you come up with for the window,” Marissa says briskly. “I’ve got to make a few calls. I’ll come look when I’m done.”
As Polly heads toward the front of the store, Marissa walks into the tiny kitchen and makes herself a cup of ginger chai, pulling a paper straw from the supply drawer. She’d taught Polly the trick of using one to not only preserve lipstick, but avoid staining your teeth.
Marissa settles in at her desk, attending to emails and calls. She has just hung up with the candlestick vendor when her phone buzzes with an incoming text. The name on the screen electrifies her.
You doing ok?
He isn’t supposed to be texting her. She’d told him they both had to forget their illicit night ever occurred. It was a mistake. It can’t ever happen again, she’d said the next morning when he’d phoned.
She should be annoyed that he is continuing to reach out. But she’s strangely touched.
The truth is, she hasn’t been able to erase the memory of their time together.