We weren’t a failure. We were a book. A beautiful love story that ended more tragically than it should have. One chapter … we had one bad chapter. If I’d had it to write over again, that was the only chapter I would’ve edited.
One day.
I would have changed one day of our marriage. The last day.
That was not a failure. It was one day.
One. Fucking. Day.
Twenty-two years of marriage deserved a better ending than the smell of bacon and an ill-executed proposition for sex. At the very least, it deserved a well-thought-out letter or a private dinner with a rehearsed speech.
“The Christmas Eve crowd is a mile long out the door at What Did You Expect?” Bella sulked as she glared out the window while two measly customers milled around our store.
“It’s because they’re running thirty-percent off today,” Gabriella, one of my two customers said. “I’m headed there next to get vinegar for my mom. I just thought I’d browse around here for a bit and stay warm until the line dies down a bit over there.”
Bella closed the distance between us and lowered her voice. “Mom, you cannot let him do that.”
“Do what? Run a sale?” I chuckled, determined to not let anything ruin our Christmas.
“This place used to be filled to capacity the day before Christmas—everyone grabbing last-minute gifts. Now look at us … we have two customers, and they’re both probably sucking up all our heat while they wait for the line across the square to go down.”
“Bella, we’re closing the store in a week. Does it really matter?”
“Yes.” Pain filled her eyes.
“Why?” I tilted my head and gave her my most sympathetic expression.
“I don’t know … it just does.” She rubbed her eyes before any tears could escape.
“Is this about your dad? The store? Or is this about him? Are you still mad about us? It’s over. We’re not—”
“I’m mad because you let him take advantage of you. Had his store been the one going out of business, he would have been upset. And he wouldn’t have been interested in you that way. He played you, Mom. And I hate it.”
“Bella—”
“No,” she continued to whisper-yell at me. “He’s sitting over there gloating. You can’t see it, but I guarantee he’s really proud of himself for winning.”
“It’s not a game.”
“To him, it’s a game. You’re just too trusting to see it.”
I could let the store go.
I could let Kael go.
But I couldn’t watch my daughter grapple with her emotions like that—thinking I didn’t do more to fight, even if it was a losing battle.
“Then we do something.”
“Yeah?” She grabbed a tissue from behind the counter and fixed her smeared eye makeup in her phone’s camera screen.
“Yeah. It won’t change the outcome of the game, but we throw the Hail Mary anyway.”
“What do you have in mind?”
My lips twisted. “Do we still have some cans of spray paint in the back?”
Bella shrugged. “Maybe.”
We did.
We had several cans of red paint.
Perfect.
I slipped on my jacket and headed out front, shaking a spray can while Bella stayed inside with our two, fake customers.
S A L E
EVERYTHING
F R E E!
Bella’s jaw dropped when I walked back into the store. “Are you serious?” Her smile grew.
“It’s on the window now. That paint doesn’t come off easily.”
Gabriella and the other heat-seeking customer squinted to read the lettering backward and through the front displays. “Are you serious?” Gabriella said, eyes wide and focused on me.
“Serious. No hoarding. Whatever you can carry out in one trip with your two hands. Go tell your friends.”
It happened in a matter of minutes, but it felt like seconds. The line across the street ran like a heard of buffalo toward Smith’s Specialties.
No price checking.
No swiping credit cards.
No standing in line … except to get into the store.
It was looting, but legal and less destructive.
Women were shoving stuff into their purses and pockets before walking out the door completely loaded down with free goods.
A few longtime customers and generous souls at least took a few moments to ask if we were going out of business and thanked us for our many years of service to the community.
I glanced at my phone and the text from Kael. “Stay here, Bella. Make sure no brawls break out.”
She giggled at the sheer level of greediness in our town. Epperly wasn’t a town filled with struggling people, but it didn’t stop the embarrassing chaos of the free-for-all from erupting. “I’ve got this.”
Escaping to the back room, I unlocked the door to the outside and Kael sitting on an overturned crate, sipping something from an insulated mug.
“Don’t you have a store to run?” I zipped my jacket and closed the door behind me, leaning against it with my hands in my pockets.
He took another sip from his mug. “No customers at the moment.”
“Bummer. I know how that feels. Are you upset?” I dared him to be upset or even the slightest bit aggravated about my massive sale.