How (Not) to Fall in Love (8 page)

Chapter Eleven

T
he universe hit the pause button, granting me a blissful couple of weeks. There were no weird postcards from Dad, just texts from J.J. telling us Dad was okay but still on the road. I only found a few empty wine bottles in the recycling bin. Even the harassment at school had eased off, but I knew that would only last until Dad was in the news again. Girls like Chloe didn’t just turn over a new leaf overnight.

Every day after school I headed straight for Broadway, even on the days I wasn’t scheduled to work. The shops became my sanctuary. When I was there, I could breathe without reminding myself to exhale. On my days off, I hung out in Charlie’s shop. I sorted through clothes and organized books. Lucas kidded me that I was trying to steal his job, but I told him I had no interest or ability in repairing broken appliances. Plus, as I reminded him, it wasn’t really a job when I was working for free.

As I got more comfortable, I was able to joke around with Charlie and Lucas. Every time I made them laugh I felt like I’d earned the right to hang out a little longer. I could even make eye contact with Lucas without breaking a sweat. Laughing with him felt natural and easy. He’d nicknamed me Shaker Girl, since I was so obsessed with Charlie’s collection. I contemplated getting the words tattooed on my thigh every time I passed the Inkheart tattoo parlor.

Charlie and I talked about everything. He told me stories about my dad from when they were kids. According to Charlie, my dad didn’t always have a stick up his ass. He’d actually been fun sometimes.

“From the moment you were born, you became the most important thing in Ty’s life,” Charlie said one day while I sorted through a box of books.

I set aside a few regency romances to borrow later. Maybe it was because Mom had named me after a character in a Jane Austen novel, but I loved to immerse myself in a world full of gentleman callers with impeccable manners and dry wit. Guys who said all the right things and made a girl feel treasured.

I ran my hands over the worn cover of a paperback featuring a perfect couple dancing in a ballroom. Nobody was dropping by my house leaving calling cards or inviting me on carriage rides. Or texting to ask me to a movie. I couldn’t even get my dad to return my calls. I sure didn’t feel like the most important thing in his life.

“It’s true,” Charlie insisted, reading my doubtful expression. “I know Ty can be intense. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you.”

Of course he loved me. I just didn’t know how much he liked me. I wasn’t his dream daughter, I knew that. I’d rather curl up and read than prance around on the stage telling people to “plant their dream crop.”

“I don’t think I have any of his DNA,” I said with a sigh. “At all.”

“I disagree,” said Charlie. “You’re a natural with customers. Liz can’t believe her good luck.”

I flushed with pride. But still, making somebody coffee wasn’t exactly comparable to standing on a stage inspiring thousands of people.

Charlie watched me closely, then tossed a dust rag at me and grinned. “Get busy, Shaker Girl.”

O
ne afternoon, Lucas and I were in the middle of a fake karate fight over a Pokémon T-shirt we both wanted when the Halloween cackle announced Aphrodite herself. Lucas froze mid-action move. I snatched the T-shirt away from him, declaring victory by forfeiture, but Lucas was in a daze.

“Hi, Lucas,” said the girl. From the way she looked at him, and the way he suddenly forgot I was there, I realized she must be his girlfriend. How could he
not
have a supermodel for a girlfriend?

“Uh, um,” he stammered. “Darcy, this is Heather. Heather, Darcy.”

“Hi,” I said, forcing a smile. I felt like a ragged shepherd in the Nativity play, standing next to a glowing angel.

She glanced at me, barely making eye contact. “Hi.” Then she returned her focus to Lucas. They’d both forgotten I was there.

I headed to the back storeroom to calm my nerves and dig through boxes, looking for salt and pepper shakers, my comfort kitsch. The last thing I needed was to watch Lucas drooling over some gorgeous girl. I’d told Sal that Lucas and I were friends, nothing more, and I told myself that, too. Constantly.

As I dug through boxes of donations, getting newspaper ink all over my hands, Lucas poked his head in the storeroom. “I’ve gotta go,” he said, sounding anxious. “Charlie should be back anytime. You got it under control until then?” He glanced toward the door and I knew he was dying to chase after the angel.

“Sure.” I forced a smile. “Have fun.”

He gave me an odd look, then grabbed his backpack and left without saying anything else.

I wondered what it would be like to have him chase me down like that. “Give it up, Shaker Girl,” I whispered. I opened another box and my mood lifted when I spotted the Scooby-Doo and Shaggy salt and pepper shaker set. I might not get the guy I wanted, but there was always Scooby-Doo.

L
iz told me I was free to read or do homework during slow times at her place, so one day I brought my backpack full of wire, beads, and my jewelry-making tools. I wanted to make something for her as a thank-you for hiring me. It was a quiet afternoon with only two tea drinkers sitting on a loveseat together. I set up my supplies on the rickety table that none of the customers liked. I’d just crimped on my first bead when a dark little head popped up at the table.

“Whatcha doin’?” An adorable little girl stared at me with enormous eyes that looked vaguely familiar.

“Where’d you come from?” I asked, wondering how I’d missed her.

“From outside.” She parked her tiny body on the chair next to me. A small chubby hand reached tentatively toward my pile of beads.

“Can I touch one? Please?” She looked like her heart would break if I said no.

“Sure.” I smiled and slid a few beads toward her. “Do you want to make some jewelry with me?”

Her eyes got even bigger and she nodded.

“What’s your name?” I glanced around for her parental unit, not seeing anyone. Maybe her mom was in the restroom.

“I’m Pickles.”

I cracked up. “Pickles? Really?”

She shrugged. “It’s my good name. I don’t like the udder one.”

“It is a good nickname,” I agreed.

“My name’s not Nick!” she exclaimed with a huge grin. “It’s Pickles!”

This kid was a born comedian. My dad should add her to his act. I tied a knot at the end of a piece of silver cord and handed it to her.

“I’m Darcy. Just Darcy. You know how to string beads, right, Pickles?”

She nodded again, watching me closely. “Why are you making an ouchy necklace?”

Frowning, I paused. “Ouchy?”

“It’s all pokey.” She pointed to the copper wire in my hands.

“The wire? It really doesn’t hurt. I get rid of the ouchy parts before I wear it.” There was no point explaining soldering to her since she was only three or four years old.

“My brudder uses the same tools,” she said, pointing toward my pliers.

I laughed. “Does he make jewelry, too?”

“No, silly! He fixes stuff.”

“Uh-huh,” I agreed, more focused on the necklace pattern spread out on the table.

“I make my brudder a necklace,” Pickles said happily, swinging her legs under the table. I hoped she had a brother who was cool enough to wear a necklace she made. We worked together in companionable silence, Pickles occasionally sneaking another bead from my pile as I pretended not to notice. I glanced around, wondering who she belonged to.

“Pickles? Is your mom or dad—”

“Uh-oh,” whispered Pickles, interrupting me. She slid off the chair and hid under the table.

I peeked under the table. “Pickles? What’s wrong?” She shook her head and put a finger to her lips to shush me. She pointed to the door. Lucas stood on the sidewalk, laughing with Homeless Harry. Harry had introduced himself that way when he stopped in for a free coffee from Liz.

“No sense sugarcoatin’ the facts, darlin’. I am Harry and I am homeless,” he’d told me.

“Gotta go,” I whispered to Pickles. “Customer on deck.”

“He’s not a cussomer,” Pickles whispered. “He’s my brudder.”

That explained the familiar eyes. And the gorgeous dark hair.

“I’m not here!” Pickles whispered vehemently, shaking her head.

I walked to the counter, trying to act casual. I didn’t know why Pickles was hiding from Lucas, but there was a girl code to uphold. If a sister wanted to hide, I had to help her out.

As Lucas approached, I tried not to notice how good he made a plain T-shirt and jeans look. Yeah, we were becoming good friends, but my heart still sped up around him. But all I had to do was picture Heather to quash my palpitations.

“Hey, Lucas. What’ll it be? Chocolate milk?”

He shot me his sexiest grin. “Triple-shot cappuccino. Extra dry. But I don’t think you’ve achieved level three on the Bella skills barometer, Shaker Girl,” he teased. “I’d better make it myself.”

“Those are fighting words, Martinez. Come on, give me a chance.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Somebody’s feisty today. All right. Show me what ya got.”

Ha. If he only knew what I’d like to show—

A loud crash echoed around the store, followed by the sound of hundreds of tiny bouncing beads skittering across the wooden floor.

“What the—” Lucas spun toward the noise. A tiny dark head popped up, then back down.

“Pickles? What did you do? What are you doing in here?” Lucas barked. He was next to her in a flash. I was right behind him.

Her frightened face made me step protectively between them. “It’s okay. It was an accident. I’ll clean it up.” I had no idea how I was going to retrieve all those beads, but I’d figure that out later.

The tea drinkers set their mugs on the table and left quickly.

“You knew she was in here?” Lucas looked surprised and slightly pissed off.

I crossed my arms defensively. “Yes, of course.” I glanced down at the tiny girl sandwiched next to me. “Necklace-making one-oh-one. Today was our first class.”

Pickles stuck out her tongue at her brother.

Lucas leaned back on his heels, his narrowed eyes taking us both in. “Well, pardon me, ladies.” He leaned over and righted the table. “I thought my little sister was helping Charlie organize socks by color. Like she promised.” He shot her a dark look. “She forgot to tell me she had other plans.”

“Lucas, don’t be mad,” I pleaded. She was so adorable I didn’t want her to be in trouble. “She’s fine. We were having a great time together.”

He looked at me doubtfully, pinning me with those hypnotic eyes.

“Really,” I insisted. “Pickles and I have a lot in common.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” I told him. “It’s girl stuff.”

“Yeah,” agreed Pickles. “Girl stuff. Go ’way Lukie. I’m staying with my friend.”

Lukie was not amused. “You made a huge mess, Pickles. You need to help us clean it up.”

“I’ll help. You go.” Pickles fumed.

Choosing to steer clear of the sibling love fest, I knelt to pick up the scattered tools, and wires…and the beads…so many beads. Lucas whispered something in Pickles’ ear. She stomped to the other side of the store and plopped onto a couch, chubby arms folded over her chest, as she glared at her brother.

Lucas knelt next to me, looking contrite. “I’m sorry about the mess. And about Pickles being in here bothering you. She was supposed to stay in the shop.” He took a breath. “I didn’t mean to get angry. I just freaked out when I realized she was here with you and I didn’t even know it. If anything happened to her…”

“She’s great,” I said. “She can come in here anytime I’m working.” I paused. “Liz must love her, too.”

Lucas nodded. “Yeah, totally. I’m sure that’s why she snuck over here. Liz fills her up with cookies and hot chocolate.”

We piled my tools and wire on the table. “You make jewelry?” Lucas asked.

I nodded.

“Cool.” His gaze swept the floor. “This bead situation sucks. I’ll go get the broom.” He turned to glare at his sister. “Pickles, don’t move.”

She stuck out her tongue again. “You not my boss,” she said, still glaring. “I like Darcy more dan Heather.” She looked at me, and then turned a frowning gaze to her brother. “Why don’t you like Darcy instead? You could kiss her instead of Heather.”

“Pickles.” Lucas’s voice was low. “Don’t say another word.”

I stood frozen with embarrassment as I imagined Lucas sweeping me into a passionate kiss while Heather and Pickles looked on.

“Sorry, Darcy.” Lucas laughed and shook his head, keeping his eyes on his sister. “Sometimes she says stupid stuff. Don’t pay any attention to her.”

The idea of kissing me was stupid? I glared at him, too. “She’s a good kid, Lucas. Don’t call her stupid.” I turned away and stalked to the counter to make his crappucino.

Lucas went to sit with Pickles on the couch, talking to her in a low voice. She slid off the couch and walked over to me.

“Sorry for making a mess, Darcy,” she said, looking pitiful.

I handed her a chocolate chip cookie. “Accidents happen, sweetie. Maybe we can try again another day.”

Her face brightened as she bit into the cookie.

“I’m taking her back to Charlie’s,” Lucas said, coming up to take her by the hand. “I’ll be back to clean up the beads for you, but I can’t stay too long because I have to get to class.”

My hand was steady as I gave him his drink. “Don’t bother.”

He frowned. “Did I… Are you…upset with me?”

Pickles glared at him. She was clearly the smarter sibling.

I looked down to wipe the spotless counter. Think of Heather, I told myself. Goddess of beauty, lover of Lucas. And who was I? Niece of Charlie. Duster of shakers. The girl next door. Literally.

Of course what Pickles had said about him kissing me instead of Heather was stupid. So stupid that he’d laughed at the idea. I raised my eyes and let out a long breath. “It’s been a long week.”

He hesitated before speaking, as if holding something back. “You’re sure about the bead clean-up?”

“Positive.” I forced a smile.

Lucas and Pickles left, but as the door squeaked behind them, I heard her clear voice.