Jane used a curling iron and styled her hair into beach waves and added dangly feathery earrings. Jasper delivered with the record player, which is on a table in the corner, softly playing “Stayin’ Alive,” by the Bee Gees. Various records, ones Graham picked out, are strewn around the table.
We pulled two more mannequins from storage and dressed them in bright colors from the era. They sit propped against the wall on either side of the display. The girl has her head bent as she reads The Shining, in a nod of respect for Brody securing the costumes. The other mannequin, a teen girl, is reading Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret. The other titles, in hardcover, are suspended from wires from the ceiling.
“It looks damn good,” Graham murmurs.
Emotion fills me as I look around at everyone. I blink away tears as the stress I’d been carrying ever since I came in this morning drifts away. “You guys worked so hard. Graham, you went and took down your light fixture. Brody and Cas, you ran around Manhattan and got us costumes. Jasper, you bought the record player. Jane has already left, but I couldn’t have done it without her dressing the mannequins.”
Brody shrugs. “Meh. I’m off for the summer anyway. I’d help my sister-in-law anytime she needs it.”
Sister-in-law. Right.
“Guess we should take out the pizza boxes and soda cans we left in there,” Brody muses.
Cas says he’ll get them and dashes inside. He waves at us, does some disco moves, then comes back outside to where we are.
I kiss my brother on the cheek. “Thanks for keeping us fed and hydrated.”
“I’m a cookie machine, Ma,” he says.
Babs crooks her arm in mine, and I pat her hand. “You, too, Babs. You found the books and got them hung.”
“Ah, don’t get misty on us. We still need to clean up the kitchen,” my brother says.
“You need to go home,” I tell him. “I’ll want you back in the store at eight to make more cookies.”
“Nooooo,” he wails, and I shoo him away.
“And thank you to Graham for the idea,” I say as we move to head back inside the store.
I glance at him, and his eyes are already waiting, a heat there I don’t want to acknowledge.
I can’t.
My heart should be—is—stone when it comes to him.
Andrew gives me a hug. “I’m gonna head out, Ma. Call me if you need me, all right?”
We head inside and go into the kitchen. Cas says he’s still hungry, so I grab croissants and pull some fruit and cheese out of the fridge for them to munch on. After sticking dishes in the commercial dishwasher, I leave Graham and them chatting as I go to Terry’s office to check on Babs.
I open the door, and sure enough, she’s sitting in his chair, looking glum. “Missing him?”
She dabs at her eyes. “It’s not just the sex. I miss his messy office, his crazy hair, our trysts.”
“Call him. I’m sure he’d love to hear your voice, Babs.”
After she leaves, I wander into my office to get my purse, and just before I’m about to go, I see a small package on my desk.
“It’s from me,” Graham rumbles from behind me, and I turn around. He’s leaning against the doorjamb, his hair a mess where he’s been raking his hands through it. His shirt is damp against his chest, and I swallow. We have the AC set to automatically go off at five, and the store has slowly heated up.
“You don’t need to keep getting me gifts. You’ve bought my silence forever already.”
He straightens, with his arms crossed in front of his chest. “This isn’t about keeping you quiet. It’s personal.” He pauses. “I’m sorry about before, in the basement. I know this marriage has been hard for both of us. I shouldn’t have stayed away so long.”
I glance down at the gift. Part of me wants to rip it open, but the other side of me doesn’t want to know what he bought.
“Open it.” His eyes caress my face. “I enjoy watching you.”
I inhale a deep breath. Fine. I tear at the little string and unwrap the brown paper. My lips tremble when I see what it is. My fingers delicately touch the jacket on the paperback, an illustrated picture of a girl holding a pig as a spider dangles down on a web. Inside, the book features an aqua-colored page with a beautiful web. Little illustrations of the story are in each chapter.
My eyes find his. “You got me a first edition copy of Charlotte’s Web, and it’s signed.” I want to clutch it to my chest and weep. “You shouldn’t have.”