11. Thrift Shopping

11

THRIFT SHOPPING

EVANGELINE

D arren kisses the tip of my nose and my eyes flutter open. The sun is horrific and I turn over, stuffing my face into the pillow. We didn’t get home until late, and it’s much too early to be woken up.

“I have to leave,” Darren says, and I reach for him.

“No,” I pull him back down. The weight of his body presses me into the mattress as I kiss him.

“I’m going to be late if you keep doing that,” he smiles against my lips.

“That’s the point,” I laugh.

Darren props himself up on the bed and looks at me. “You make it very hard, but I have a commitment. My staff is waiting.”

“You have staff?” I giggle. “That’s very adult.” I pull at his tie.

“Yes, you met one of them yesterday. Angie.” He manages to get out of my grasp, his tie fluttering through my fingertips as he makes his way off the bed.

I roll over and watch as he readjusts it in the mirror, thinking about how handsome he looks.

“She’s been a workhorse on the campaign. She organizes the volunteers and because of her background in journalism, she handles some of the media,” he explains.

I can feel my hackles rise, and I don’t realize I’m making a face until Darren leans down to give me a kiss. “Don’t be jealous,” he says.

“I’m not jealous,” I retort quickly and noticing Darren’s wolfish grin, I scowl even more.

“I’ll be home later, and we can have dinner,” he offers, heading towards the door. “Lottie will be happy to see you.”

Lottie is at the lake house? I’m excited but also a little nervous because I don’t know how she feels about me leaving, especially since I didn’t say goodbye.

I sit up in bed, smashing down the comforter with my arms as Darren exits the room. “I am not jealous!” I call after him.

Maybe just a little.

Now I can’t go back to sleep, so I throw the blankets off and look for my luggage. I didn’t have time to unpack anything, so I pull out a change of clothes and walk out into the living room.

I don’t see Lottie in the kitchen, but there’s a plate of scones on the island and a discarded cup of coffee that must have been Darren’s. I shake my head and dump it in the sink. The pot is still warm, so I help myself to a cup and walk over to the patio to peer out at the meadow. It’s full of wildflowers and looks so different without snow. The trees are lush and green, and the small fishing boat sits in the water, no longer covered for winter.

I notice some of the family pictures have been removed from above the fireplace and the artwork along the hall is missing, too. It seems Darren has been making changes while I was gone.

I hear noises coming from the library and make my way further down the hall, where Lottie and a young boy are packing up some books.

“Evangeline!” Lottie claps her hands together as soon as she notices me. “Come here, come here! It’s so good to see you.” She rubs my arm.

I tilt my head in the direction of the young boy who’s diligently tapping a box closed.

“This is Noah, my grandson,” she introduces us.

“Noah, this is Mrs. Walker.”

For once, I don’t flinch at the use of the surname. Although I can’t help but run my thumb over my empty finger.

“Nana said if I helped with the boxes, she’d let me go swimming in the lake.” Noah looks to be around eight years old and has the same brown eyes and wide toothy smile as Lottie. I knew she had sons, but she never talked about her grandchildren.

“Is that safe?” I ask skeptically.

“Darren used to jump off the pier at the same age as Noah, but I make him wear a life jacket.”

“What’s all this?” I point to some of the empty bookshelves and boxes that litter the library.

She turns her attention to Noah. “There are a couple boxes over there that need to be taped closed. Remember to use double. We don’t want the box to fall open.” She hands Noah the tape before she straightens up. “Darren thought it was time to make some changes around here.”

“I see that.” It should be a good thing, but it’s oddly disorienting. The last time I was in here, Darren was studying for the Bar exam. His papers and books had been strewn all over the desk. I remember the room looking dark and masculine, but with the bookshelves starting to empty and the paintings removed, it brightens up the space.

“Where would you like to start?” Lottie asks, looking at me skeptically.

“Excuse me?” I ask.

“Darren said you would be taking over the redecorating.” Lottie must see the confusion on my face. “Oh, I see he didn’t get around to telling you, then.”

I laugh. “No. I barely had a chance to talk to him before he left this morning. I don’t really know much about decorating.” I look around the room. “What does Darren want?” I ask.

“Darren will like whatever you pick out. This is your home, too. It’s about time you made it your own.”

It’s my home, too, but it doesn’t feel that way.

“Has Darren been staying here the whole time I’ve been back in Arizona?” I wonder.

“He travels back and forth between here and Georgetown,” she offers, and I help her fit a few more books into one of the boxes.

I look over at Noah, who has managed to make a fort with the boxes and a throw blanket from the nearby couch.

“Noah James!” Lottie pulls out the middle name card and Noah peeks his head out from the blankets.

“That is not your blanket,” she scolds, and Noah’s face falls. He seemed pretty proud of his architecture skills.

“It’s alright, Lottie. He can use the blanket,” I offer softly.

Lottie nods with a smile. “You’re putting it back where you found it.” She points a stern finger at him, and he gives her a devilish smile before dipping back into the fort.

Now that we are semi-alone, I look at Lottie thoughtfully. “I missed you,” I admit.

“I knew you wouldn’t stay away for long.”

Noah pokes his head out of the fort. “You said you would take me swimming.”

“Go put your suit on.”

Noah rushes out of the room, and I hear him stomping on the stairs to the second floor.

“I’ve never seen a kid run so fast,” I laugh, pulling the blanket from the fort and folding it back onto the sofa.

“When you ask him to do chores, he’s a sloth,” Lottie jokes and we leave the office together laughing.

“Would you like to go down to the lake with us?” she offers. “It’s a beautiful day.”

It’s tempting, because the lake looks so inviting with the sun reflecting off it, but I’m sure it’s only warm enough for a kid not to complain.

“I need to go into town and get some things. Do you know if Darren left the car?”

“You can take mine. I don’t need to go anywhere,” she offers while shuffling through her purse on the counter until she produces a set of keys.

“You sure you don’t mind?” I take the keys from her.

“I’ve got my hands full,” she motions to the steps as Noah bounds down them wearing swimming trunks with sharks on them. “But if you want to pick up something for dessert tonight, that would be great.”

“Oh, sure.”

I watch as Lottie takes Noah out to the lake. He grabs her hand while they walk through the meadow to the dock and it pulls on my heartstrings a bit. It make’s me miss my grandmother as I watch Lottie pull a life jacket from the boat. Noah’s practically bouncing on the balls of his feet while she straps it on. I can tell the minute it clicks into place because he bolts down the pier like a racehorse being let out of the gate and then cannonballs right off the edge.

As soon as I get dressed and grab another of Lottie’s scones, I set off into town.

It’s a beautiful spring day and there’s not a cloud in the sky as I walk down the block. Across the street is a bakery, and I take note to stop there on my way out.

I open the door to The Vintage Vault and a middle-aged woman with a kind smile greets me.

“Can I help you find something?” she asks.

The store looks packed, and nothing seems to be organized in any sort of order. “I’m looking for something I can wear to events,” I try out.

The woman looks me over. “We don’t have anything designer in here.” She clasps her hands together. “I like to describe our clothes as casual chic,” she explains.

“That’s perfect,” I exclaim, and her mouth turns up into a huge smile.

“Ok, well, let me pull a few items for you.” She sets to rummaging through the racks excitedly while I start flicking through some of the dresses up front.

A few of the shirts she pulls aren’t really my style, but she shows me a floral dress that buttons on the top with a belt at the waist. I hold it up to myself in the mirror and fall in love with it.

“That’ll look pretty on you,” she says, and then stares at me a little longer in the mirror.

“Do you have a dressing room?” I ask, and she points me towards the back.

As soon as I have it on, I exit the dressing room so I can use the full-length mirror. It fits perfectly, and I adjust the belt so it’s facing the right way. In the mirror, I catch the woman staring at me again with a curious expression.

I’ve been here almost an hour, and I’m still the only one in here.

“I put some more items on the back of the door for you,” she calls to me.

I finish trying on a few more things and take them up to the register.

She looks like she wants to say something but stops herself. I look down to make sure I’ve buttoned my blouse and zipped my jeans, but all is well.

She rings up my items and before handing me the bag, she finally says, “Aren’t you Darren Walker’s wife? The one who’s running for Congress?”

I wasn’t expecting anyone to recognize me. “Yes, Evangeline.”

“It’s so nice of you shop in here,” she continues, and I chew on my lip. I don’t understand why anyone would care if I shopped in their store.

I hand her a few bills. “It’s a great shop, and thank you for helping me find some things,” I beam.

She stops me before I get to the door.

“I just meant that you could have shopped anywhere,” she laughs nervously and then smiles at me. “People can say they care about the community all they want, but actually being part of it is something very different, ya know?”

I exit the store and almost run right into another lady about to enter. I’m about to apologize when she snaps a picture of me.

“Excuse me?” I shield my eyes from the flash.

“Barb Henderson from the Clarksville Caterwaul,” she introduces herself, sticking out her hand which I reluctantly take, and she shakes it vigorously.

She must see the confusion on my face because she points to the woman inside the shop.

“Kathy Bennett, she owns The Vintage Vault.” She leans in conspiratorially. “She’s also my cousin, but I assure you there’s no conflict of interest.”

“I’m sorry, but what is all this?” I point to her camera.

“She called me and said Darren Walker’s wife was in her thrift shop buying clothes.”

“And this is news because?” I tilt my head, urging her further.

“Well, truth be told, we don’t get a lot of news around here,” she says as if that’s a shocker. “But it’s not every day that a billionaire shops at a thrift store.”

I’m not a billionaire. It’s Darren’s family’s money.

I must be staring too long because she goes on, “Maybe if people see you shopping here, they’ll shop too.” She shrugs.

It’s then that I notice how empty the street is and how easily I found a parking spot. Next to The Vintage Vault is a vacant space that I hadn’t noticed earlier.

“I like thrift shops,” I compliment. “There are lots of treasures that you can’t find at a regular department store.”

“Can I quote you on that?” Barb calls after me as I cross the street to the bakery.