Already Home. Susan Mallery
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eyed Jenna. “That apron is adorable. Are you selling those?”
By six o’clock, Jenna’s feet hurt and her back ached. She also felt a weird stretching sensation in her face, which came from having spent the whole day smiling. It was all pain she could happily live with, she thought as she watched Violet lock the front door. When she turned, they stared at each other, then both began to laugh.
“We did it!” Jenna said, bouncing on her already-throbbing feet. “I can’t believe how many customers we had.”
“I know.” Violet pointed to the lonely bag sitting on the table. “I figured the ingredient bags would be popular, but I wasn’t expecting them to go this fast. We’re going to have to make more for next time. People are going to tell their friends and we’ll have customers showing up, wanting to try what we’ve been cooking.”
Jenna sank into a chair. “Did you see those women with the cookies? They were so happy decorating.”
“Nearly everyone bought cookie sheets and cooling racks.”
The day had been crazy busy. She would have to come in early in the morning to restock shelves and prep for the next cooking class. If this kept up, she would need to hire a parttime person to prepare the bags and stock the shelves. Talk about a happy thought.
“You did this,” she said, turning to Violet. “You made it happen.”
“I helped,” the other woman corrected.
“If I’d been left on my own, I would have failed spectacularly.”
Violet studied her for a second. “Then I have a favor to ask. Say yes, and we can be even.”
Jenna smiled. “Unless you want a kidney, sure.”
Violet shifted uneasily, as if nervous. She fingered the bracelets on her wrist. “I have a date on Tuesday.”
“Is that all? Of course you can leave early.”
“No, that’s not it. I met this guy. Cliff. He’s nice. A business type.” She pulled a card out of her skirt pocket and held it out. “He has the kind of job where they give you business cards.”
Jenna took the card and studied it. She couldn’t see anything noteworthy about the information. Cliff worked for a big financial firm. He was a senior manager, which probably meant he was one step away from being a vice president.
“I don’t know what to wear,” Violet admitted. “We’re going out to dinner.”
Jenna frowned. “You always look great. Fun and pulled together.”
“I have a unique style,” Violet said. “It’s wrong for Cliff.”
“Not if he asked you out. What do you want to dress like?”
“Not what. Who. I want to dress like you.”
Jenna sat up straight. “Trust me. Stick-up-the-ass isn’t a style to attract a guy.”
“You dress great,” Violet told her. “Sophisticated. Elegant.”
“Boring.”
“Classy.”
Jenna had never applied that word to herself. She wore tailored clothes because they tended to suit her body and weren’t trendy. Shopping wasn’t her thing. Those big mirrors in dressing rooms intimidated her. Looking at her butt in a three-way mirror wasn’t her idea of a good time.
“You’re serious?” she asked.
“Yes. I want to look right for my date with Cliff.”
“I’m really the last person you should be asking, but sure. I’ll help.”
Violet sighed. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t the faintest idea how to help you. Want to come to my house and look at my closet? It’ll give us a place to start.”
“That sounds perfect.”
Jenna’s townhouse was relatively new, with comfortable furniture and hardwood floors. She had a few scattered rugs, artwork on the walls and extra shelving in the kitchen for her impressive collection of cookware.
The built-in, under-the-counter wine cellar and stainless steel appliances were about as far from Violet’s somewhat rundown apartment as it was possible to get while staying in the same city.
Violet sat at the stool by the bar counter and wondered what it would be like to live like this for real. To have no need for extra locks, while enjoying garage parking for her car. The differences were both inspiring and depressing.
She accepted the glass of white wine Jenna offered, then waited while her boss shuffled through the contents of the refrigerator. In a matter of minutes she had loaded a plate with various cheeses, some cut fruit, and a dip she’d whipped up using sun-dried tomatoes and some mystery ingredients, and water crackers.
Violet eyed the offering. “Your life really is perfect,” she said without thinking.
Jenna nearly choked on her wine. “Excuse me? I’m getting a divorce, my husband cheated on me, I’ve just turned thirty-two, I have no kids, I own nothing and if not for you, my business would have failed.”
Violet nodded slowly. “When you put it like that.”
They both laughed.
Jenna held out her glass. “Today was a good day. Thank you.”
“It was good and tomorrow will be better.”
They clinked glasses.
“If you’re right,” Jenna said, “then I’m going to break out my comfortable shoes. My feet are killing me.”
“Retail is all about standing.”
“Robyn’s on to something with her knitting,” Jenna grumbled. “She gets to do it sitting down.”
“It’s worse,” Violet said cheerfully. “Have you seen her fiancé? He’s gorgeous.”
“Some people have all the luck.” She picked up the tray of food. “Come on. We can eat while you ponder my wardrobe. Please don’t get your hopes up, though. You’ll be wildly disappointed.”
The two bedrooms were upstairs. The smaller one, just off the stairs, was mostly empty. Jenna led the way down the short hall to the master.
They entered through double doors. The space was large. Even with the bed, dresser and two nightstands, she had room to hold an aerobics class. French doors led out onto a balcony. Violet didn’t care if the view was only of a parking lot. No one she knew had a balcony off their bedroom. She had a feeling the master bath would be about the size of her entire bedroom, then nearly fainted when she saw the walkin closet.
“Nice,” she murmured.
“More than I need,” Jenna said, as she put the tray on the dresser and set her wine next to it. “I’m not big on clothes. Plus, working in a restaurant means wearing a uniform of sorts. Black pants, white jacket. I’d put on a T-shirt underneath. Not exactly high fashion.”
Jenna joined Violet at the entrance to the closet and turned on the light. Shirts and pants hung on double racks. Dresses hung at one end. Boxes of shoes sat on shelves, and what looked like eight or ten white kitchen coats stayed dust-free in dry cleaner bags.
“My former life,” Jenna said, touching the plastic.
Violet couldn’t decide if she sounded wistful or just plain sad. “Do you miss it?”
“Sometimes. Working in a restaurant kitchen is crazy. Orders come in together, there are too many people in too small a space. There’s lots of yelling and swearing. But making people happy is great. I loved being part of the celebrations. Someone’s anniversary or birthday. It’s like they chose me to make the event memorable.”
Jenna