To Sir, with Love - Lauren Layne Page 0,53

the one-off bottles, I’ve decided on an “everything must go” approach.

Dad’s probably ticked about it from up in Heaven. While he himself was a coupon-cutting, deal-hunting aficionado—he loved himself a cheap Chianti—he and my mom had defined Bubbles as a luxury shop from the very beginning. You don’t see a sales rack at Cartier, do you, Gracie?

In truth, I’d never set foot in Cartier. I still haven’t, so I don’t know what it’s like.

But here’s what I do know: The smile on that couple’s face when I’d handed them a bottle of wine to celebrate being alive? The tears in the eyes of a grandmother buying champagne to celebrate her first grandson and finding something in her price range? Worth it, despite the loss. Which tells me something I’ve maybe known all along: I’d rather be a good person than a great businesswoman.

Of course, that’s easy to say now that I have the financial buffer of the Andrews Corporation deal. Not that I’m set for life or anything. But for the first time ever, I’ve got a bit of breathing room in my budget. No more losing sleep about making sure I have enough to pay rent at home and the store. No more Groundhog Day resentment that I have to work seven days a week because I can’t afford to bring on another employee. No more endless stress about being able to keep the employees I do have.

That, apart from our legacy coming to an end, has been one of the hardest parts of all this. Breaking the news to May, Josh, and Robyn that while they’d get six months’ worth of pay, they’d need to find another job. That they’d all received the news with understanding and kindness had been a little bright spot in an otherwise bittersweet period of my life.

May in particular had been in favor of the decision. Time to move on, in more ways than one.

I know she was talking about letting go of my dad. I know that most of the reason she’s stuck around the store is for me, but I also know a little part of it’s for her—a way to stay connected with my father. I don’t want that for her. To stay connected with his memory? Of course. I know she’ll always love him. But I also want her to find that same happiness with someone else.

Robyn had been disappointed, but not surprised. In fact, she’d already started job hunting with the anticipation of the store closing, and I’m glad for it. She’s smart, she’s talented, and I’m confident she’ll find someone or somewhere that can make use of those talents.

Strangely, it had been Josh whom I’d been dreading telling the most. I hate that he worked so darn hard to learn wine, to learn the shop… for nothing.

Not nothing, boss. I was a part of something good. No regrets.

Ironic. Ironic that the employee who’s been a part of Bubbles’s story for the shortest amount of time is the one who was able to sum it up the best. Part of something good indeed.

We’d celebrated that good thing last night with a farewell party here at the shop. Nothing big, nothing fancy. Just the staff, the Coopers sans Caleb, though he’d FaceTimed for a while, a few of our regulars, and close friends. Keva had shown up with Grady and trays of potato chip–crusted cheese and broccoli casserole in tow, which they’d insisted was the perfect pairing for the occasion. They’d been absolutely right.

A little part of me had wondered if Sebastian would show up unexpectedly, the way he had for all of our other events.

He had stayed away, and I’d told myself I was glad.

The party had been a blast—the perfect sendoff for thirty-nine years of serving champagne to Midtown. I’m glad we had it when we did, on the eve of the store closure, rather than after the doors had shuttered for good. It allowed me to show up for work today—for the last time—with the laughter and company of last night fresh in my mind. To somehow get through this day with a smile.

To get to this point. This moment.

Lily reaches out and squeezes my hand as we stand shoulder to shoulder staring at Bubbles’s front door. Robyn and Josh are already gone for the day—no, for good. Behind me, I hear May chattering under her breath, trying to find her lipstick in her purse. Alec’s around too, a calm, reassuring presence.

“You want me to do