Chapter Thirty-Four - Mourning Mascarpone

EVERY NIGHT I waited. Hands clenched, breath held, heart breaking—I watched as the sun slipped below the skyline and nothing happened. I'd try to stay up until the sun rose, certain that if I was there, I'd figure this out. I'd find them. But I rarely made it past two A.M., my head heavy and eyes on fire.

Once, cops showed up for a wellness check my mother called in. They wouldn't say who, but I knew it was her. I gave them the last few bottles of wine while I loaded the garbage cheese in a trash bag. There was no saving any of it. No saving the store.

She won.

As badly as I want to stay, I can't. Without them, I can't make cheese. Without cheese, there's no store to run. And without the store…

Numb, I gave up and let that realtor, Mr. Walker, do whatever he wanted to my hopes and dreams. Each day, I had torn out what little remained of the shelves and tossed away the molding cheese—except for the little charcuterie board. That I reverently placed in the emptying refrigerator counter. Every day, I'd push Brie and Cam back together into a little mold, then place them on the counter at dusk in the hope that they only needed more time to come back.

It never happened. One afternoon, I woke after my vigil to find the only refrigerated counter gone and the charcuterie board on the floor. They started to grow mold and melt in the boiling August heat. If they could have survived a minor case of digestion before, they wouldn't now. There was nothing to come back to.

They're gone.

Or maybe they never were.

"Men don't turn into cheese. That's science. Common sense. Whatever you want to call it. You can't make a deal with the devil and have him turn you into gouda."

They're not real. They weren't real. I'm mad. Grief or loneliness took whatever sanity I thought I had left and twisted my brain into imagining four men who doted on me. Who liked seeing me. Who wanted to be with me. Who maybe even loved me.

I made all of this up. I made them up.

"I'm so sorry," I plead to the four cheeses—three covered in blotchy patches of green and white. The last is little more than crumbs. I placed all of them on tiny pillows below the remaining lights of the store. It was the best I could think of for their funeral. "I…I don't know what to do with your remains. Roq's from a village somewhere in France and Cam from Spain. Cheddy is vaguely from England, but Brie never told me. I think Scandinavia. Do you even want to go back there? I wish my uncle was here."

Do I bury you? Cremate the cheese? Hide you away in the cellar and hope for a miracle? Maybe the next owner will get to meet you?

"I wanted to stay. Here." I laugh, trying to shake away the tears clouding my eyes. "I was terrified of all of it. Owning a store, that's so hard. Making cheese…I thought I'd be awful at it. I'd destroy every batch. Being around you… I expected you to hate me, or come to once you knew me. Instead you…"

Gasping, I bite down on my hand to keep from bawling while passersby watch me talk to cheese. "You took me in, you were excited to see me. No one's ever…ever been happy with me the way you were. Even Roq, once in a while. I didn't think I deserved to have this place, to have you."

Just when I wanted to stay, I can't. "This place is going up for sale tomorrow. With the money, I'm…I'll travel. Take you back to your ancestral homes. Bury you where you…where you'll be happiest to rest after such a long life. I hope that's good enough."

I hold my breath waiting for an answer. The universe is too cruel to grant me one. Trembling with barely suppressed tears, I place my finger to my lips and touch the rind of each cheese with a final kiss. "May you find peace wherever you are now."

"Are you ready?"

I jerk at the voice and try to sponge away my tears. Mr. Walker pauses at the door and stares around the stripped and bare store. Everything's gone—the shelves, the old signs, the paintings, the photos except for one of five men taken fifty years ago in front of this store.

"What are you doing?" he asks, staring at the moldy cheeses I've got on display.

"Just…some last-minute touches." I gather the cheese into individual ziplock bags before gently placing them into my purse.

He can't hide the judgment on his face even with the commission dollar signs dancing in his eyes. "Good. Tomorrow, I'll arrive an hour before the open house. I've got a few clients who are interested in private tours. Have you cleared out of the apartment up above?"

I nod. It too has been picked clean of every remnant of my uncle, me, and four strange men who may have never existed. Despite the bed still having sheets on it, I'll be sleeping down here as I have every night for the past two weeks.

"All right. So, you know the drill. Go to a coffee shop for a couple of hours of the open house."

"I don't like coffee," I mutter.

"I'll call you once it's over, and we'll discuss the offers. Any questions?"

A million, but you can't answer a single one. I shake my head and stare down at my feet.

Mr. Walker pats my shoulder. "You're going to be very well off, Ms. Reely."

Was that why my uncle gave me this store? Or did he always hope I'd find those men and give them the life he never could? Did he regret putting them away? It didn't matter in the end, those terrible rumors wouldn't stop. And my mother would never let me go.

"Oh." Mr. Walker slaps a hand to the door, causing the jaunty bell he added to ring. "The workers found a box downstairs. They said it looked like a family heirloom. You might want to move it out before tomorrow."

I nod my thanks again as the realtor slips out the door and down the sidewalk. He whistles as he goes, all his cares drifting away. Standing before the nearly empty store, I close my eyes.

Despite all the landmarks ripped from their studs and hurled into the trash, I can still feel them. The shelves where I'd play freeze tag with my uncle. The signs challenging people to out-cheese the five-year-old girl. The counters where four men took turns kissing and caressing me before dawn stole them away.

"It was real," I whisper to myself. "All of it."

I reach for the lights before I remember the box. It might have been my uncle's and I don't want to leave without it. Climbing down the ladder, it hits me how empty this place is. My heartbeats echo for miles until they boomerang and strike my ears louder than a jet engine.

It's nearly impossible to see down here. They had to leave the vats. No one has any idea how to remove them or even how they got down here. But everything else is gone. Every wheel of cheese, every table, every shelf, even the sinks. It's all gone like it never happened.

I flick on one of the remaining lanterns and catch the box. Gold accents flicker like fire against the inlaid blue lacquer. It's quite beautiful, and I'm honestly surprised they didn't try to steal it. I wouldn't have been in any state to notice.

There's some good in the world. Maybe that's all I have left to cling to, but it's something.

Placing the lantern on the ground, I eye up the chest. It looks larger than I remember. How in the heck am I going to get that upstairs? Maybe if I shove it? I grab the two handles and lift.

"Oh god. Oh god. Oh god!" The box makes it a few inches off of the ground before it slams to the floor. "What the hell is in there?"

The damn thing weighs like a hundred pounds.

I reach for the lid before I remember the lock. At least I still have all the keys to this place for one more day. I get it in one go and pry the box open. The lid creaks like a vampire's coffin.

I blink, then I grab the lantern and swing it over four huge wheels of cheese. They're all resting on cloth that looks more like a burial shroud. "I guess they missed these."

Deep inside, I want to take the cheese with me. To keep them for as long as possible and remember. But there's no way I can get them and the chest up the ladder. Maybe if I take the cheese out, drag the chest up, then come back for them one at a time?

With care, I wrap my fingers around the wheels and pull them to my chest. It's a terrifying dance as I waddle with the cloth supporting the cheese and try to get it on the ground before the whole thing tears. And I get to do that four times.

Panting, I check the box one last time but it's empty. No secret jewels, gold, or stacks of cash. I slam the lid shut and the lock catches instantly. Summoning whatever strength I have left, I drag the box across the floor and start to inch it up the ladder. Working my way under the box, I manage to ram my shoulder into it and shove. Each step is a hard-fought mile in the war of gravity.

"This thing is like a thousand pounds," I cry out, sweat and tears pouring from me. "If I was smart, and not crazy, I'd leave it behind." But it was his. Maybe it was theirs.

I can't. I need to keep it with me.

"But do you have to be so fucking heavy?" Gritting my teeth, my arms screaming at me, I push for one more inch. The box tips and slams into the floor above. Taking a deep breath, I wipe off my forehead, then rise out of the basement.

"Sorry that it took so long," I tell the chest. "How about next time you push me?"

After dusting off my hands, I shove the chest across the floor toward the back of the counter. Maybe Mr. Walker will help me carry it out tomorrow. The hinges catch on the newly polished floor, causing a strange squeaking noise with each push.

"I could piss for days," a man cries out from behind me.

My memory's playing tricks on me. It's turning these squeaks and squeals into voices.

"Why's it so dark down here?"

I shake my head, trying to close off my ears, but that won't work. My heart's making it up, wanting to believe that somehow, someway, on the last night, they'll come back. Closing my eyes tight, I ram the chest behind the remaining register counter until it rests against the wall. My arms give out and I collapse to the ground.

All that exercise has my heart pounding so fast it sounds like footsteps—a whole mess of them climbing up the ladder. A mix of sobs and laughter breaks from my lips and I flop onto my back. Placing my arm over my eyes, I try to give into the hilarity of this. Except, the pounding isn't giving up. Instead, it's getting closer.

Then it stops.

"What the hell happened?"

I freeze, all breath drained from my lungs. Trembling lips, I twist onto my haunches and cling to the counter. The air's grown warmer, and the floorboards creak with numerous steps across the empty store.

"Everything's gone. Oh, no. Did we miss—?"

"Another twenty years?"

I'm going to look over the edge and there won't be anyone. It'll be a mirage, and I'll have to accept that I'm crazy.

"What about—?"

No more hiding. No more pretending everything's fine. Steeling myself, I dig into the counter and launch to my feet.

Four handsome but befuddled men turn at my sudden appearance.

"Violette," Brie exclaims.

Cam gulps, his face pale. "You're here," he gasps, then stares down at me, "and as gorgeous as ever."

"Oh my god," I cry out, tears bursting as I clasp my palms to my mouth.

Roq's pursed lips soften as he looks at me, nods, and a slow smile rises.

"You're alive!" I scream.

Cheddy turns away from the low-hanging lamp, lifts his hand, and waves. "Hi, Vi!"