Page 117 of Heidi Lucy Loses Her Mind
I want to be like her when I grow up, but I’ve got a long way to go.
I am trying, though. In fact, I’ve been doing something new at the shop. I’ve been striking up conversations with the people that come in, learning about them and their lives and the things that make them happy. And I’ve found something remarkable, something so simple but so profound: most people love to talk about themselves. Most people love to share little pieces of their lives with the ones who invite themselves in. Most people crave some sort of connection, whether big or small.
And another thing I’ve discovered? It is incredibly easy to make someone smile. What an amazing power that is. There’s something deep in my bones, in my soul, that recognizes that part of my purpose in life is to provide comfort, to provide a safe place, to help people smile more. I think that’s why I was drawn to the idea of a bookshop and a café in the first place, so that’s what I’m going to keep doing.
I think maybe it’s what I could have been doing all along.
Patrice Riggs and Elsie and Phil Hildegarde are paying for what they did. Elsie’s and Patrice’s sentences will undoubtedly be longer than Phil’s, and Phil and Elsie will be separated for years to come, but I’m not sure their marriage would have survived this anyway. Soren and I have promised each other that if we end up married, we won’t kill each other’s parents. We’ve also promised that no matter how successful or unsuccessful his writing career happens to be, we will not resort to blackmailing our neighbors. I’m personally not too worried about that one, because I’ve read his current manuscript and it’s amazing, but it’s possible I’m biased.
My mom leads Soren and I to the kitchen, where he sits down at the small table. I wander around, though, checking things out, opening cupboards, inspecting shelves and nooks and crannies.
“Well?” my mom says from behind me, and even though I’m not looking at her, I can hear the smile in her voice. “Does it get your seal of approval?”
“So far,” I say as I emerge from the pantry. “But I need to see the whole place before making that call.” I’m going to approve wholeheartedly, of course, regardless of what the rest looks like—how can I not, when my mom is so obviously happy here?—but I do want to see everything.
My mom waves her hand. “You want the tour?”
I nod, smiling a little. “Yes, please.”
She leads us through the little house, and it’s clear with every room we poke our heads into that my mother has already begun putting her own personal touches into this place. And I find myself thinking as we move from room to room about what kind of home I might want with Soren one day—a house in the suburbs? An apartment in the city?
I don’t know. What I do know is that whatever my future holds, I want him to be in it.
My phone rings just as we’re circling back to the kitchen. I pull it out of my pocket but don’t answer; instead I look at my mom. “I love it,” I say honestly. “It’s perfect for you.”
She beams at me, and something warms in my chest. Then I answer my phone.
“Hi.”
“Hey,” Juniper says, her voice bright and cheerful. “Let’s hang out this weekend. Aiden says he can’t play with me because he has a billion papers to grade, so I’m gonna be bored.”
I can’t stop the little smile that pulls at my lips. “What did you have in mind?”
“Let’s carve pumpkins,” Juniper says. “I found a stencil to carve Shakespeare’s face, and I want to see how mad it makes Aiden.”
“Halloween has already passed,” I say.
“Yes,” Juniper says, “but the pumpkins don’t know that. They’re still out here thriving.”
I shrug; it’s sound logic. “Okay. Let’s do pumpkins.”
“Invite Gemma. I want to see the engagement ring,” Juniper says. “And Mel too, if you want. We’ll have a party.” She pauses, and then she adds, “Look at you, being all social. I’m so proud.”
Over the last few months, I’ve gotten to know Juniper as she’s come to Paper Patisserie for writing group with Soren. She’s easy to be around and completely friendly; Gemma and I adopted her immediately. Or maybe she adopted us—either way, we’ve gotten close. Mel loves her too, supplying her with motherly hugs whenever she’s around, and even though Juniper doesn’t say much about that, I can tell she loves it.
“Thank you,” I say. “Your place or mine?”
“Mine,” she says. “More room, I think.”
“I agree. Do you have pumpkins?”
“Yep,” she says. “They’re on the porch, looking all cheerful and happy. I haven’t had the heart to tell them Halloween is over.”
“Mmm,” I say, and my smile grows. “Considerate of you. Let’s do Friday. I’m visiting my mom right now, but I’ll be back by then.”
“Sounds good,” she says. “Come over Friday evening. Bring snacks,” she adds. “And I’ll make some too.”
I nod. “See you then.”
