My family, each dressed up for the occasion too, burst into excited—and excessive—crowing and cooing over me when I stepped out of the bathroom. Ronan stood quietly among them, the look on his face worth a thousand compliments.
“I’m so glad you’re all here,” I said, hugging and kissing them. “You too, Mama.”
My mother smiled thinly from her seat at the dining room table, apart from everyone else. She looked beautiful in a deep maroon dress, but her eyes were glassy. When they’d arrived this morning, I’d bent to kiss her cheek and thought I smelled alcohol. And when I’d introduced Ronan as my boyfriend, her face had frozen, a million thoughts behind her eyes. She’d only been courteous to him since.
“Let’s get on now before I burst with excitement,” Bibi said. My grandmother looked beautiful in a purple dress with bright yellow flowers and was wearing her favorite wig—the one she said made her feel like Oprah.
“Yes, let’s!” Aunt Bertie said. She beamed at me. “I am dying to see all your hard work come to life, sugar.”
“Two entrepreneurs in the family,” Letitia said and high fived me. “Black Girl Magic, for real.”
My smile was so wide, I thought my face would split, the happiness trying to burst free, but I couldn’t let it. I was still scared to feel so much. As if that were tempting fate.
A few days after high school graduation, I learned that the city was going to lease me the laundromat space. The next weeks passed in a flurry of activity, remodeling it and getting it ready. I had my start-up bank loan but quickly learned that $50K sounded like a lot more money than it was.
Ronan wanted to spend his uncle’s money on me, but I refused. I compromised by letting him design and build the displays for my jewelry and help me with the remodel. Turned out, my backyard work shed was only a small example of Ronan’s skills. I would’ve spent a small fortune for the work he did with just as much expert care and precision.
I met his eyes across the room. And he picked the name…
Uncle Rudy clapped his hands together. “Come on, ladies. Let’s roll.”
We stepped out into the late afternoon twilight. I’d been at the shop all day preparing with the event planner and had come home to change and bring the family early before the crowds came.
If the crowds came.
Ronan’s hand found mine and he gave it a squeeze. “Hey. It’s going to be perfect.”
“Thank you for saying that. I feel like I’m going to puke.”
He bent his tall frame down to me. “That dress,” he said gruffly. “Is it expensive?”
“No, it only looks that way.”
“Then you won’t care when I tear it off you later.”
“Don’t say stuff like that right now. I can barely think straight as it is.” I laughed. “And only you could think of sex right after I mention puking.”
Ronan got behind the wheel, and Bibi sat beside him in the front seat of the Buick. I sat with Letitia in the back while Uncle Rudy took Bertie and Mama in the black Cadillac they’d rented.
We drove downtown and my heart tried to climb out of my throat at the sight of the little shop. My shop.
Rare Earth Jewelry was made out of gold painted bamboo-looking bars set against the clean lines of plain glass with smoked glass edging. I smiled and glanced at Ronan. He’d come up with the name too.
“There it is! There it is!” Letitia clapped her hands. “Girl…”
My heart felt ten sizes too big. There it is…
Ronan parked and my family all congregated at the front of the shop. A local paper had done a write up of me as one of the city’s youngest entrepreneurs, and Ronan had taped it to the glass on the front door. Bertie and Bibi clung to one another as my aunt read it out loud, both streaming tears, while Rudy rocked back on his heels, hands in his pockets as he took in the shop. “Will you look at that?” he kept saying over and over.
Mama peered into a window, her face unreadable. I tried not to watch her too closely. Tried to tell myself it didn’t matter if her face lit up with pride or not. I’d done it. This shop was for me, not her. But still, when she only smiled faintly and nodded, a little piece of my heart broke off, and I didn’t think I’d ever get it back.
June Seong, my event planner, waved at me from inside, pulling my attention. Her services were a gift from Bertie and Rudy. “To give your shop the send off it deserves,” they’d said. June beckoned for us to come in.
I heaved a breath and faced everyone. “I just want to thank you all for being here tonight. Each of you has helped make this happen, and I’m so grateful for your love and support.” I cleared my throat. “Before I get too mushy…” I opened the door. “Welcome to my shop.”
They burst into a small round of applause and cheers that threatened to bring me to tears, then filed inside. Ronan lingered behind.
“Woah,” I whispered to him. “That felt…good.”
He put his mouth by my ear. “I love you.”
I stared up at him, shivers dancing all down my skin, no matter how many times he said it.
“I love you,” I whispered back and kissed him. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For you.”
Inside, my family was oohing and ahhing. I had to admit, it turned out well on the stringiest of shoe-string budgets. My jewelry glinted on the displays Ronan had made—beige velvet stands in geometric blocks in rectangular and square shapes.
Along the right was the cash register, which sat on a huge display cabinet that I’d found at a yard sale and Ronan had restored. It now housed a hundred rings, the gemstones and turquoise bright under soft light. Behind the register was the door that led to the backroom—a tiny storage space and bathroom.
On the walls were colorful prints of women from all over the world—South Africa, Tibet, Brazil—wearing the natural stones and metals of their countries. I couldn’t make enough inventory on my own to fill an entire store but had contracted with another small company that sold ethically-sourced jewelry to keep those displays full. Eventually, I planned to partner with local artisans too and share their work in my windows.
If I can stay in business long enough…
June beamed at me, looking beautiful in deep blue and yellow. “The Santa Cruz Daily is sending someone; they’re going to want to ask you a few questions. The ads are in place, and invitations to local artists have been sent. At least two have called me already, eager to talk collaboration.” Her phone chimed an alert. “Aaaand the caterers are here.”
“I’ll go let them in,” I said, starting for the back, but she stopped me.
“Enjoy this calm before the storm. I’ll handle it.”
“I love that she thinks there’s going to be a storm,” I said to Ronan.
He gave me a crooked smile. “She would know.”
“Baby steps,” I said. “I still can’t believe I have caterers.”
Two weeks before the grand opening, I’d received a letter in the mail with a French postmark. Inside was a fancy gold voucher for Elite Eats and a note.
Dearest Shiloh,
I hope you’ll accept this small gift with my congratulations. (I’m only ever allowed to pay for the food.)