The Passing Storm(2)

The silver-haired busybody lobbed another glance. “Why don’t you leave him alone? He’s apologized for going in your barn—as if that’s the crime of the century. And he’s not obligated to tell you if he has school today or not.”

The dressing-down injured Rae’s pride. A predictable outcome. Her pride often lost against her more impulsive nature. She was out of line, confronting Quinn like this.

A voice came from behind—her bestie’s.

Today Yuna Onaga-Fraser wore orange Converse high tops and metallic leggings beneath a purple T-shirt. The busy mother and wife of Chardon’s mayor could outshine a peacock.

“Rae, what are you discussing with my employee?” she asked pointedly.

“Nothing. I’m done. I’ve had my say.”

“About what, I’m sure I don’t want to know.” Dousing the rising tension, Yuna stepped between them. “Quinn, are you all right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Why don’t you run down to the coffee shop and grab something to eat? It’s lunchtime—you must be starving. Here.” She pressed cash into his hand.

“Sure.”

When he bolted out the door, the busybody grunted. “The boy was minding his own business when Miss High-and-Mighty stormed in.”

Rae blinked. “I resent that.”

Yuna blocked her view of the woman. “Let’s all calm down, shall we? Rae, why don’t we talk in the back?”

Yuna gave a look that needed no interpretation. The bonds of affection only stretched so far. Argue with customers in your best friend’s craft emporium, and those bonds might snap.

Taking the cue, Rae marched past the people in line at the cash register and the table of happy tots to the stockroom.

A shipment of boxes crowded the stockroom’s aisle. Farther back, Yuna’s desk hid beneath stacks of paperwork. Although February was fast approaching, the bulletin board held a collection of Christmas drawings made by Yuna’s five-year-old daughter. Kameko’s list for Santa, a jumbled scrawl of wishes, was tacked nearby.

Scanning the child’s handiwork, Rae suffered a pang of guilt. Yuna carried enough burdens. Between work, parenting, and marriage, she juggled more than her share. She didn’t need theatrics in her store—or more fallout from the grief dominating Rae’s life.

The dull ache in Rae’s chest had become a constant. The sleepless nights and the surges of anger—the storms of the heart came without warning. They came without providing answers to the questions that battered her in a drumbeat of pain. Yet they didn’t justify confronting Quinn inside the shop. She should’ve found a better way to resolve the matter.

Yuna seated herself in the office chair. “I thought you and Quinn had an understanding—you’d stay out of the shop whenever he works.” She began swiveling, left and right.

“I didn’t know he was working today. I came by to talk to you. It’s important.”

“What’s the crisis?”

“I found more footprints in the snow.”

“Why, because you were hunting for them? If you want to trudge around in ten-degree weather, take up skiing.”

Rae folded her arms. “You’re supposed to be on my side.” A debatable point since Yuna refused to take sides, which hurt. “I wish you’d take this seriously.”

“I can’t. It’s stupid. You’re not a hound dog. Tracking footprints across your property has become an obsession.”

“Hardly,” Rae protested, “and this set is new. I found them today, in the backyard. That’s not all I found, after I brought Dad home from his doctor appointment.”

“You don’t have a backyard. You own a forty-acre farm that’s going to seed. Why not put the place on the market? Get the house ready to show next month. List in March.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not selling my house.”

“Your farm,” Yuna said. “One of my neighbors is planning to sell her bungalow. Three bedrooms, with a yard that doesn’t require a tractor to mow. There’s a nice fireplace in the living room. And a fabulous kitchen, in case you or your dad ever learn to cook.”

The suggestion of change was unwelcome. Rae had experienced too many shocks, too much loss. For months she’d been walking on shifting sands. Longer, if she was honest. Since the last of her teen years, when she’d learned to keep secrets. Throughout her twenties, when those secrets led to unforeseen complications. And now, into the dark, incomprehensible decade of her thirties.

With agitated movements, she unbuttoned her coat. “Mind telling me what’s up with the hard sell?” But she didn’t remove the garment—the conversation’s unexpected turn made her wonder if she should go. “I’m not here to discuss real estate.”

“Who gave you the right to set the agenda for all our crazy talks? They happen constantly, in case you haven’t noticed.” Yuna paused in her swiveling to cast a pointed look. “Give it some thought, Rae. If you move into town, we’ll be neighbors. You can bug me in the evenings. After I’ve finished my workday and tucked Kameko into bed.”

“You know I can’t move.”

“No, I don’t. It’s a free country.” With irritation, Yuna shook the black silk of her hair. The glossy strands danced across her shoulders. “You can live wherever you want.”