Read Online Back to the Good Fortune Diner by Vicki Essex - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Vicki Essex
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won’t find out who bought them.”
Tiffany handed Maya the backpack. Her need to pay the bills was greater than her pride or her worries. In the next moment, Maya spread her clothes across the worktable in the back for inspection.
“It’s all in great condition. Nice, quality stuff. I’m not sure it’ll sell too quickly, though.” She pointed at the size six label on a silk blouse. “Most of my customers are above size ten. That’s not to say I don’t want it,” she added quickly. “You never know who’s going to come in here, after all, and variety is where it’s at in a shop like this.”
She explained the process, then wrote up all the tags and paperwork, and had Tiffany sign her designer labels away. Maya waived the seller’s fee for old times’ sake. It wasn’t a lot, but Tiffany didn’t have the luxury of wasting even a few dollars these days.
“I appreciate this,” Tiffany said, putting the paperwork into her backpack.
“Hey, I’ve been where you are. And we’re old friends. Doesn’t hurt that you have such good taste.”
Words stuck in her throat. Maya couldn’t possibly have known about her mountain of debt, though she supposed she could have guessed. She wondered how many others had come in to trade their party dresses and hand blenders in the hopes of raising a little extra cash. “Thanks,” she managed to say.
“You’ve got that look,” Maya said, tilting her chin.
“Look?”
“Regret. Shame. Like you’re giving up your babies to the orphanage.” She ran her fingertips over the clothing. “I promise you, they always go to good homes. There’s no shame in making sure someone else looks fabulous at a good price.” Her beatific grin actually made Tiffany feel better.
“Thanks for the reassurance.” She turned to go.
“Hey, when you’ve got time, give me a call and we’ll go out for coffee.” She handed her a business card. “Or pop by. It gets kinda lonely here.”
She looked at the business card, then at Maya. “Okay.”
“Promise?”
Tiff pursed her lips. “You need a promise from me?”
“I never knew you to break one. But then, I don’t really know you. I hope we can change that.”
Tiffany hesitated. She’d probably be away from Everville before she had to make good on her promise, but then again, a promise like this couldn’t hurt her. It wasn’t binding. “All right. I promise.”
Maya grinned. If for nothing else, she’d call to see whether her clothes had sold.
* * *
O N HER WAY to the Jamieson farm, Tiff kept one eye on the map and the other on the two-lane road. The GPS on her smartphone didn’t work very well, and she didn’t trust it—it would probably lead her into the middle of a wheat field.
The farm was about thirty minutes south of town, and she hated long drives. It left her with too much time to think. In New York, she walked or took transit everywhere, and was constantly distracted. But on these long, deserted stretches, not even blasting the radio could keep her from navel-gazing.
Her mind went to Maya. She and her clique had been in all the clubs and teams. They’d been an active, popular bunch, and had little to nothing to do with Tiffany. She was confused as to why Maya would reach out to her all these years later. Then again, some people liked to talk and were always looking for an ear to listen. There wasn’t much else Tiff could honestly offer her.
Ahead, a brightly painted sign that read Jamiesons’ Organic Farm loomed. She turned onto the driveway. From the road, she could see a two-story farmhouse with a wide veranda and wood siding with flaking paint in dull shades of gray. Next to the house were the remains of something that might have been a fruit stand, though it was mostly filled with firewood and scraps now. The gravel driveway forked around a large maple tree and led to a red barn. Three horses of varying colors stood flicking their tails in the adjacent paddock, greeting her with low whinnies. On
Tiffany handed Maya the backpack. Her need to pay the bills was greater than her pride or her worries. In the next moment, Maya spread her clothes across the worktable in the back for inspection.
“It’s all in great condition. Nice, quality stuff. I’m not sure it’ll sell too quickly, though.” She pointed at the size six label on a silk blouse. “Most of my customers are above size ten. That’s not to say I don’t want it,” she added quickly. “You never know who’s going to come in here, after all, and variety is where it’s at in a shop like this.”
She explained the process, then wrote up all the tags and paperwork, and had Tiffany sign her designer labels away. Maya waived the seller’s fee for old times’ sake. It wasn’t a lot, but Tiffany didn’t have the luxury of wasting even a few dollars these days.
“I appreciate this,” Tiffany said, putting the paperwork into her backpack.
“Hey, I’ve been where you are. And we’re old friends. Doesn’t hurt that you have such good taste.”
Words stuck in her throat. Maya couldn’t possibly have known about her mountain of debt, though she supposed she could have guessed. She wondered how many others had come in to trade their party dresses and hand blenders in the hopes of raising a little extra cash. “Thanks,” she managed to say.
“You’ve got that look,” Maya said, tilting her chin.
“Look?”
“Regret. Shame. Like you’re giving up your babies to the orphanage.” She ran her fingertips over the clothing. “I promise you, they always go to good homes. There’s no shame in making sure someone else looks fabulous at a good price.” Her beatific grin actually made Tiffany feel better.
“Thanks for the reassurance.” She turned to go.
“Hey, when you’ve got time, give me a call and we’ll go out for coffee.” She handed her a business card. “Or pop by. It gets kinda lonely here.”
She looked at the business card, then at Maya. “Okay.”
“Promise?”
Tiff pursed her lips. “You need a promise from me?”
“I never knew you to break one. But then, I don’t really know you. I hope we can change that.”
Tiffany hesitated. She’d probably be away from Everville before she had to make good on her promise, but then again, a promise like this couldn’t hurt her. It wasn’t binding. “All right. I promise.”
Maya grinned. If for nothing else, she’d call to see whether her clothes had sold.
* * *
O N HER WAY to the Jamieson farm, Tiff kept one eye on the map and the other on the two-lane road. The GPS on her smartphone didn’t work very well, and she didn’t trust it—it would probably lead her into the middle of a wheat field.
The farm was about thirty minutes south of town, and she hated long drives. It left her with too much time to think. In New York, she walked or took transit everywhere, and was constantly distracted. But on these long, deserted stretches, not even blasting the radio could keep her from navel-gazing.
Her mind went to Maya. She and her clique had been in all the clubs and teams. They’d been an active, popular bunch, and had little to nothing to do with Tiffany. She was confused as to why Maya would reach out to her all these years later. Then again, some people liked to talk and were always looking for an ear to listen. There wasn’t much else Tiff could honestly offer her.
Ahead, a brightly painted sign that read Jamiesons’ Organic Farm loomed. She turned onto the driveway. From the road, she could see a two-story farmhouse with a wide veranda and wood siding with flaking paint in dull shades of gray. Next to the house were the remains of something that might have been a fruit stand, though it was mostly filled with firewood and scraps now. The gravel driveway forked around a large maple tree and led to a red barn. Three horses of varying colors stood flicking their tails in the adjacent paddock, greeting her with low whinnies. On
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