She missed her sisters. And her cousins, who were so much closer than friends. And her parents. And this town. And…No. That was all she missed.
Or so she told herself every time her blood pressure surged and she wondered if she should have held out a little longer, interviewed a bit more in New York, hoped that something would come along.
Except that something had come along. An opportunity of a lifetime, really. A chance to finally have her own line. Right here in Blue Harbor.
But oh, just thinking about her shop sent a flutter through her heart straight down to her stomach and she felt a swell of hope as she imagined all its possibilities. She’d fine-tuned her skills over the years, learned from the best, but now she had the opportunity to make something of her own.
It was a small dream, perhaps. After all, a custom wedding dress shop in Blue Harbor was a far cry from an atelier in Paris or Manhattan. But it was her dream, and she had found a way to make it come true.
No need to mention that she was also running away. For the second time in her life.
But this was different, she reminded herself. This time she was coming home. This time she had a plan that she could stick to…
Well, almost. It was the almost part that nagged her. The part about the loan she’d need to apply for if she wanted to grow things the way that she’d envisioned—to hire an assistant, take out advertising space in magazines, and get her name out there, at least on a regional level. She’d avoided loans for years, choosing to rent rather than buy in New York, and luckily not needing a car when she was there, but this time she owed it to herself to take a risk, to borrow against her future.
For now, she had a few more hours of work ahead of her before she headed over to her parents’ home, where her family insisted on having a party to welcome her officially. By now, they would know she was back, or at least arriving at any minute. She could picture her mother standing at the window, her hands gripping each other, wondering if she should pop over into town to see if her middle daughter needed help. Brooke’s father would advise her to wait, to let Brooke settle in on her own time. Her mother would probably then mention she needed something at the store. Find an excuse to linger in town a bit. Maybe stroll down Main; it was such a lovely spring day and all…
Brooke turned to the window of her apartment and parted the wooden blinds just wide enough to look down onto Main Street. The blossoming eaves of the trees shielded most of the view, but still, she was relieved to see that the sidewalks were full of strangers only, young families on their way to a late lunch, or perhaps hoping to catch the next ferry out to Evening Island, where they could rent bikes and ride laps around the small island, hoping to catch sight of some early lilacs in bloom.
Still, she knew her mother, and she knew that she wouldn’t patiently wait for the clock to strike five o’clock when Gabby closed her flower shop and promised to personally escort Brooke to their childhood home. Just the two of them, she’d said over the phone. Like the old days.
Meaning the days when Brooke was still single.
She’d tried to block that time from her mind. A big wedding. So much planning, and effort, and fanfare.
And then…Well, no use in thinking about what came after that. It was ancient history. She was a grown woman now. An independent woman. A woman with her own business, a lease, and a family that loved her. A family that couldn’t wait to welcome her tonight. She didn’t know why she was dreading it, but a part of her did. Because this party would make it official. Life in Blue Harbor. And even though she was back in town, she wasn’t quite ready for the feeling of such permanency just yet.
Happy that she’d bought enough groceries to pack her fridge and the second shelf of the small pantry, she made herself a mug of instant coffee and slathered peanut butter on a slice of bread as a late lunch. There would be plenty of time for proper food once she was ready to go out in public, but today she planned to get the finishing touches made on her storefront, maybe even set up her back office, too.
With her sandwich only half-eaten, she took the stairs down to the street level, let herself in the back door with the key that the landlord had left under the mat—a telling sign that she was back in Blue Harbor if ever there was one—and entered the storage room, which was luckily clean and tidy, and painted the same shade of light blue as the other walls of the space. It had been easier that way, giving direction from afar, to have everything painted the same color, though she might change her small office later, to something more distinctive yet feminine, like a soft blush or an elegant lavender. It would be her personal space, where she would do all her alterations and sewing, and right next to the closet that would soon hold bolts of the prettiest fabrics that she’d collected over the years, from lace to chiffon to
