heard a thump,” Winnie shouted up the stairs from the first floor.
“Fine,” I hollered back as the child of my loins checked on my wellbeing.
We’d come a long way in the last few months. From her living in the United States still and barely speaking to me to her moving in. It wasn’t always the smoothest of arrangements. We still had work to do repairing our relationship, but we were closer than I could have ever hoped.
If only I could get to the same level of understanding with my son.
One kid at a time.
I untangled myself from my comforter and noticed the time. Just after seven. Winnie would be going to work soon. It was more than a thirty-minute drive into the next town. I hated to think of her driving that far on a single-lane highway once the snow started flying, but there weren’t many other options.
Since my shop wasn’t yet open for business, I couldn’t exactly hire her, and Winnie insisted on having her own funds. I was fine with that, as I only had a limited amount that I’d have to dole out carefully just in case the new career as a shop owner didn’t pan out.
I could get by for at least a year if I kept things lean. But I really didn’t want to deplete the stash left from the divorce. I needed this store to make some money. And soon.
What was I thinking?
Not for the first time since making that leap, I questioned my decision. What made me think I could run a business? I’d been a homemaker for most of my adult life. I’d never managed anything other than a household. And I did a kick-butt job at it. So good in fact that both my children basically stopped talking to me and my husband had an affair and left.
I’d failed my marriage, my kids, and myself. What made me think I could actually do this?
I splashed water on my face as the familiar panic had me wishing I’d never bought the shop. It was a lot less stressful working for someone else.
Maybe I should accept the offer to work at the gas station. Darryl, the owner—and one of the guys who made my lady parts tingle—had offered me any shift I wanted. But if I worked for him, then I’d have to say no to his casual offer of dinner. I knew better than to date my boss. And I really wanted to date Darryl, so that job was off the table.
I could always talk to Orville. Despite Marjorie going back to work, he’d said I was welcome to pop in anytime if I needed some extra cash.
If the shop failed, I at least had options. Was it wrong to miss the days no one in town would let me work or pay for anything because they thought I was a witch? In retrospect, I should have enjoyed it more. But no, dumb me had to prove I wasn’t a hexing sorceress and that nothing bad would happen to them if they treated me like a normal person. On the contrary, bad things only seemed to happen to me.
After rinsing my face, I brushed my teeth then winced as I went after my hair. The shower the night before hadn’t rid me of the paint that had dried strands of it together in clumps.
Since I couldn’t afford to hire someone to renovate the interior of my new shop, I did it myself. Nothing major, though. My skills went no further than cleaning and painting. The first I did well, the latter… I somehow always ended up covered in it. Winnie teased I didn’t need to buy rollers. I could just rub myself on the walls. Brat. Even if it was true.
I pulled my hair up in a sloppy bun, a style I’d have eschewed not so long ago, but I rather liked how it looked. It went well with my baggy sweatshirt and leggings.
As I emerged from the bathroom, Winnie yelled, “You having breakfast? Or is this a fasting day?”
My belly grumbled, but it did that every morning. “Just coffee for me,” I shouted down. I’d added an extra element to my low-carb dieting. Intermittent fasting. Having read many articles and following a few blogs and vlogs, I felt as if it were the next step in my weight loss journey. More than eighty pounds gone now.
Well, technically, three hundred and ten if my weighty ex-husband counted. I never realized just how