At first, she wasn’t completely sure she could pull it off. Back at her parents’ store, she discovered she had a knack for rearranging the display cases, but she had help—her best friend, Tina, had worked alongside her. Together, they’d come up with the idea of using little boxes to lift the trays of caprese and pasta salads, and bringing in springs of fresh herbs and pretty wildflowers to adorn the tuna steaks and deviled eggs. She and Tina had also bought inexpensive straw baskets to display tomatoes and zucchini and unshucked corn, and they’d convinced Marissa’s parents to replace the tired laminated floor with inexpensive material that looked like stone tiles. Tina, who loved fashion and had an eye for color, had picked the stone; it was a shade of rust that Marissa wasn’t sure would work. But Tina insisted it would, and it had. In another life, Marissa could still be working at Conner’s—helping her brother, Luke, gradually taking over the reins from her parents, perhaps even branching out into a second location. She could have married a local boy and remained near the water. She wouldn’t have Tina, but maybe she’d have started trying to get pregnant earlier and been able to have more children.
Marissa didn’t have many regrets in life, but when she and Matthew began to drift apart, she found herself ruminating about her choice to be with him during the summer she turned fifteen, and how turning toward Matthew meant other doors had closed to her. But without Matthew, there could be no Bennett, which was unfathomable.
“Marissa! Hi! How are you!” Polly hurries toward her, an eager smile on her face.
“Fine. How was your weekend?”
“Oh, gosh, it was—well, first, do you want some tea? I just brewed some but it’s easy to make more.”
“No, but I appreciate the offer.”
Something seems different about Polly this morning. Maybe it’s that she looks a little tired.
Marissa begins to walk toward the back room.
Polly quickly moves to keep step with her. “Do you have a sec?” Polly tilts her head. It’s her hairstyle that’s different, Marissa realizes—she’s never seen Polly wear a simple ponytail.
Marissa needs to light a fire under the supplier of the missing place settings, and attend to this month’s bills, and email Bennett’s math teacher to see if the poor test result is a one-off or if Bennett’s truly struggling in the class. “Sure,” Marissa replies, but her tone is brisk, and she keeps walking.
“So … nothing’s really wrong, but…”
No sentence that begins this way can be good. Marissa inhales deeply, thinking, Get to it, Polly.
“It’s just that there’s a little bit of a rodent problem in my rental house.” Polly wrinkles her nose. “I can’t stand mice. The landlord sent out a notice last night that the exterminator was coming today and that the problem should be resolved soon.”
“One of the hazards of city living. My first place here had them, too.”
“Ick, I just keep imagining their scrabbly little feet running over my stuff, and I—” Polly shudders. “It grossed me out so much. So I hope you don’t mind but I—I slept here last night.”
Marissa stops walking and twists to face her. “Excuse me?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” Polly bites her lip.
Could this be true? Marissa realizes that in the month or so that Polly has worked for her, Polly has never mentioned a boyfriend or a night out with friends. Her parents live in Milwaukee, and as far as Marissa can tell, they’ve never visited. None of Polly’s girlfriends have ever popped into the store, and Polly’s cell phone rarely rings.
“I wasn’t planning to do it, but I was lying in bed and I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep. I brought my yoga mat and a blanket here, and I tidied everything all up so no one would ever know.…”
That explains the messy ponytail, Marissa thinks. Polly would have used the bathroom sink to freshen up, but she couldn’t shower and style her hair.
The kind thing—the magnanimous gesture—would be to invite Polly to stay with her for a few nights until this is sorted out. Marissa has an empty bedroom at home. More than that, she has an entire finished basement that is almost never used with a sofa bed and separate walk-out entrance and full bathroom.
Yet she can’t bring herself to make the offer. The idea of Polly drinking out of their glasses and asking Bennett about his day at school and running her big, eager eyes all over Marissa and Matthew’s belongings is too much.
“Sure, you can sleep here, provided it’s just a few nights. It would be a problem beyond that. I believe there’s a city code that prevents retail establishments from being used as residential space unless you have a permit.” The last bit could actually be true, Marissa thinks.
“Oh, thank you! I ran out and got a muffin this morning, so I bought one for you, too. Morning Glory, with raisins and carrots, so it’s superhealthy. And if there’s anything else I can do—if you need me to do errands for you, or if you want me to come in earlier or work later or anything—”
“No, Polly, it’s fine.” The store will open in fifteen minutes, and Marissa does actually crave a cup of tea. But she wants to make it herself.
Thankfully, Polly returns to the front of the shop while Marissa steps into the back room and brews tea, leaving the muffin in its little white bag since she had scrambled eggs with Matthew and Bennett this morning. She sips her tea while she attends to her email, cherishing the quiet.
A customer comes in immediately after Coco opens, saying she needs a birthday present for a friend, and Marissa helps her choose a luxurious box filled with a variety of aromatic body oils. Marissa asks Polly to gift wrap it while Marissa rings up the customer, then Marissa turns her attention to the FedEx and UPS boxes and padded envelopes that are stacked on a table in the back room.
Polly has organized the packages by size, with the smaller ones on top and an oversize cardboard box on the floor. Marissa unpacks the smaller boxes, then bends down to test the weight of the one on the floor.
Polly rushes to her side, calling, “Let me lift that for you.”
“I’ve got it.” The box contains throw pillows; it’s less than five pounds.
Polly remains, practically hovering over her.
Marissa sets the box on the table. She needs to clear the air or she’ll end up snapping at Polly. “You seem a little anxious today. And while I appreciate you offering to help, I can make my own tea and lift boxes.”
“Oh, okay. I just want you to know I’m here. You know, if you’re tired or queasy or whatever…”
“I feel fine.” Marissa frowns. “What’s going on?”
“It isn’t—” Polly cuts herself off, her face crinkling, as if she’s trying to suppress her emotions.
Please don’t cry, Marissa thinks.
But Polly does the opposite. She breaks into a huge smile. “I know I shouldn’t say anything, but I saw the box when I took out the trash from the bathroom this morning!”
For a moment Marissa has no idea what Polly is referring to, but then everything seems to stutter to a stop.
Polly saw the Clearblue pregnancy test Marissa purchased from CVS on Friday. Marissa hadn’t realized the lettering on the box was visible through the plastic bag.