How nice of him. Neighborly. Being her mother’s friend.
“You look cold,” he continued. “Do you want my jacket?”
She didn’t feel the temperature. Her hand waved absently. “I have something in my car.”
“I’ll get it.”
He was back in moments, and he draped her short parka over her shoulders, then dropped back down beside her. “Maybe you should head over to Walnut Street. Take a shower to get that smoky smell off you.”
“I really need to get on to L.A.,” Bailey said. She sounded numb. She felt numb. “They’ll be expecting me back at the office in the morning.”
“The day after Christmas?”
Bailey shrugged. “In retail, it’s December. It’s like March is for tax accountants. For divorce attorneys, the busy time is right after the New Year. Folks who’ve vowed not to spend one more Christmas with their spouse du jour.”
He didn’t have a response to that. Maybe because the idea depressed him as much as it suddenly did her.
The breeze picked up, another gust fluttering the yellow police tape. More ash swirled. Through the store’s blackened exoskeleton, Bailey saw a charred beam finally lose its battle with gravity, crumbling as it dropped.
Her spine crumbled with it.
She curled into her knees, pushing the heels of her hands into her eyes. Though she couldn’t move away, she couldn’t watch any more of this.
“Bailey?” She felt Finn’s hand hovering over the back of her head, but then it was gone.
She wished he’d touched her.
“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly.
She didn’t know. “Nothing should be, right? This is all I’ve ever wished for, isn’t it? I called the store an albatross and now it’s gone. No one would blame me for not wanting to take over the nothing that’s left, would they?”
“I guess not.”
“Yes. So…so, it’s happy holidays to me.”
But instead of being relieved, she was all at once angry. “I hate it,” burst out of her mouth and she jerked straight, her hands curling into fists.
Suddenly she wanted to have every tantrum she’d swallowed, she wanted to cry every tear she’d held back, she wanted to scream with all the frustration of a five-year-old who had lost her trust that a family would last forever. “I hate it.”
Her nose started to run and she swiped her hand underneath it, smelling the smoke on her own skin. Another puff of air tried cooling the heat of her face, but it only burned hotter as a piece of charred paper fluttered by. The remains of a Perfect Christmas shopping bag.
She snatched it out of the air and squeezed it in her fist. “Here’s my secret,” she said, learning it herself as each word exited her mouth. “It was never Christmas I hated, but December 26. We’d go back into the store and it wasn’t pretty anymore. You’d see all that was left was damaged or broken, just like what happened to my family.”
“Bailey-”
“I hate when things get ugly. When they aren’t perfect anymore. It’s why I wanted to leave by the twenty-fifth. But this time the ugliness came too early.”
As quick as it had appeared, the anger inside her extinguished. Her voice sounded as weary as her soul. “This time it came too early.”
“I’m sorry, GND.”
She opened her fist to stare at the scrunched paper and ash in her hand. “I held some of the vintage things back so there’d be new stock the day after Christmas. But I guess they’re all gone too.”
Glancing over at Finn, she saw that he was staring at what was left of the store. “I don’t know why I’m so upset about this.” She managed a hoarse little laugh. “It’s almost funny, now that I think about it. I joked to myself I wanted to burn the place down. I even told Mr. Baer that first night I came back that nothing flocked can stay.”
She sighed, looking around the quiet block. “Nothing stays. Nothing lasts. Nothing.”
The street had been deserted after the fire engines left, the lookie-loos having gone home and the stores around them closed for the holiday. But in the distance she could see a small, ragtag parade heading their way. Shepherded by a couple of young teen girls in new pastel-colored hoodies, a half-dozen littler kids were tooling along the sidewalk on skateboards, scooters, and bicycles, each one buckled into a gleaming helmet.
Trying out their new gifts, Bailey decided. When she and Trin were girls, they used to speed up and down the streets, hair flying free, never thinking of what accident might lie around the next corner. Kids were so much safer today.
Finn didn’t appear aware of their approach. Without looking at her, he dug his hand in his jacket pocket. “I don’t know if this will help,” he said, holding out the gift he’d left in her car. “But I noticed you haven’t opened it yet.”
Bailey stared down at the present. “I…I was afraid to,” she said, surprised by her own honesty.
Finn smiled. “It’s a gift, not a weapon.”
“I have nothing for you.” She still didn’t touch it.
“Maybe not, but that’s okay too. It’s for you, GND, no strings attached.”
Her hand was slow to take it from him. Even slower to tear through the paper. Her nervous pulse pounded in her ears as she lifted the lid. Inside the box was another, smaller box, and-
“It’s my vintage ornament. The one I dropped,” she said, holding it up. The old, ruby-colored glass swirled and dipped. Somehow the fractures barely showed. She glanced up. “You unbroke the heart.”
“You made something more of me, a long time ago, so I’m happy I could return the favor-even in a small way.”
Holding the glass in the palm of her hand settled her nerves somehow, and made it easier to open the second box. Shocked, her pulse jolted back into high gear.
Finn cleared his throat. “I brought it with me that last summer when you were gone. I designed it myself, had it made. It’s a promise ring.”
Gold and silver, a B entwined around an F. Tears stung the corners of her eyes.
“Bailey, it’s still my promise to you.” He held out his left hand. The heavy ring he’d worn on his little finger was gone and on that bared knuckle was the same insignia. A B entwining an F. The only tattoo he’d never removed.
She couldn’t look away from it. “No.” No!
“Yes. I was in love with you then. I’m in love with you now. It didn’t go away. It’s not going away. If nothing else, well, I can promise that lasts.”
“On the beach-”
“I wasn’t ready to admit the truth.”
“Finn…” Her voice trailed off as she realized they were surrounded by the parade of kids she’d seen tooling toward them before. They took no notice of the adults, just pushed back their brand-new helmets to survey the ruins across the street.
One of the little kids, she saw now, was preschooler Angel, balancing on a spangled banana seat while a pair of training wheels kept him steady. The miniframe was red with black handlebars, and a flashy water bottle was clipped to the side.
She caught Finn’s eye, nodded to the boy. “Bicycle?” she whispered.
He smiled, shrugged, then rose to his feet. “Anyway, GND, happy life.”
“You’re…you’re leaving?” She looked down at the ring, and then back at his impassive face. Had she dreamed him saying he was in love with her?
“I told you,” he said, gesturing to the items she cradled in her lap. “Those are gifts. Not weapons, not strings. Maybe they’ll bring you some warm memories as you’re expediting those divorces up in L.A.”
At her glass and steel building where she spent so many overtime hours that she was too tired to realize the matching soullessness of her condominium. Sure there were communities in L.A., but where she lived and the way she worked didn’t encourage them.
She had never encouraged them in her life. It had always been easier to avoid disappointment by keeping her distance.