Love? Maybe. (10 page)

The next few days run one into another. Swim practice, homework, working at Jan’s. Mom is home more thanks to Claire’s help. And Claire seems way better. I’ve only seen her tear up once and that was when we saw Stuart holding Christi’s hand on the front lawn. Jillian’s new idea has been to teach Claire and me how to flirt. She forced me to give my second box of chocolates to Andrew Spence (my plan B) in person. I tried the eye gazing, the giggle, the arm touching. I tried to do the hair toss thing that Jillian taught me, but all I did was whack my head on the edge of his locker door. I got out of there as fast as I could after that. I’m pretty sure the impression I left on Andrew was less cute girl who might make a good Valentine and more irrational mental patient who could possibly be dangerous. I told Jillian that I wasn’t going to participate in any more of her flirting seminars.

Jillian has been going into overdrive, leaving little presents in my locker almost every day. I guess the gifts are just Jillian’s way of trying to get me into the spirit. Tuesday’s bag contained a jar of peanut butter and a plastic spoon. Then there was a pin that read B
E QUIET
. I
CAN’T HEAR THE VOICES IN MY HEAD
. I actually laughed out loud when I read it, making people in the hall look at me funny. Then there’s a windup toy cockroach that I can’t wait to show Dom.

The closer we get to the weekend, the more Claire and Jillian want to talk about my date with Ben Donovan. I’m trying to match their enthusiasm by imagining how other girls
would be acting if they were going out with him. Jillian tells me I’m
the ultimate average-girl hero.
I’m not sure I like being called a hero and even less an average girl.

Jan texts me to say that my Consternation Hearts are selling so well he decided we need to order more. I drop by the shop after school to help box up all the stock we have left.

“I’m just not sure how I feel about this,” Jan says, after the door closes behind a woman who just bought two dozen boxes of them. I brace myself for another one of Jan’s fatherly moments. Sometimes his whole paternal thing makes me crazy, but I know he means well.

“What do you mean?” I ask. “I thought you’d be psyched.”

“I don’t know,” Jan says, straightening the boxes of taffy on top of the glass case. “I mean, I’m really happy that your candy is selling so well, but it just seems sort of—” He leaves off and looks out the window for a moment. “Cynical,” he finishes quietly.

“Cynical?” I ask, bristling at the word being tossed in my direction again. “I just thought they were funny.”

“Oh, they are,” Jan says, smiling at me. “It’s just that… I don’t know… Valentine’s Day is supposed to be hopeful, you know? Love and romance and all that.” He takes off his glasses and polishes them with a handkerchief he takes from his pocket. He puts them back on and looks at me. “I just don’t want you to be cynical about love,” he says.

“I’m not cynical,” I say. “I’m just realistic.”

“You want to make sure it’s a safe bet before you put your heart on the table.”

“Okay, other than that being the world’s worst metaphor, yes. Exactly.”

“Piper—” Jan begins.

I hold my hand up. “Before you start, you should know that I have a date this weekend.”

That makes Jan smile. “Tell me,” he says, so I do. In between customers I tell him all about Ben Donovan. “Well, Piper. There might just be hope for you yet.”

“Gee thanks,” I say, rolling my eyes. “But what about you? You’re single. Youngish. And you’re not ugly—”

“Nice,” Jan says, shaking his head at me.

“Why have I never heard about you going on a date?”

Jan takes a deep breath and looks back out the window. “I guess I’m just not—” He pauses to polish his glasses again. I don’t know anything about Jan’s past, other than the fact that he used to be married and he has a daughter a little older than me who is in college in California. He looks back at me. “I guess I’m just not quite ready,” he says. I wait for him to say more, but he just nods as if that settles it and walks over to the jukebox and selects another song. “Crazy” by Patsy Cline. I smile at him as he waltzes toward the back of the store, pushes through the swinging doors, and disappears.

I
slide three truffles into the box, one each of peppermint, raspberry, and cinnamon. The order just said to box up anything red. I was tempted to add in some of the ancho chili ones until Jeremy tried one. His eyes started watering almost immediately and even after drinking about a gallon of water, he still can’t talk above a whisper. “How many is that?” I ask Jillian, who is helping put the little boxes into bigger boxes to be delivered later to a fund-raiser.

“Seventy-eight,” Jillian says, tucking in another box.

“And we need how many?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.

“Two hundred and fifty,” Jillian says. Jan was happy when Jillian’s mom, who is also the president of the Umlaut Foundation, ordered boxes of truffles as favors for their fund-raiser, but Jillian’s mom keeps calling every
few hours and upping the total as the RSVPs roll in.

I hold up one of the Love Potion No. 9 truffles. “I guess these were a bust.”

“Maybe they aren’t strong enough,” Jillian says. “Or maybe—”

“Maybe there’s nothing strong enough to make someone love you,” I say. I brace myself for another lecture about my cynicism, but Jillian just shrugs.

“It was worth a shot,” she says, smiling at me. I smile back. That is one of the best things about Jillian. Nothing fazes her. She’s always positive.

I close one of the boxes and look at it before I hand it off to Jillian. An embossed silver seal with the name of the foundation is on the top. “Who is Umlaut?” I ask. “And why does he or she have a foundation?”

Jillian smirks at me. “An Umlaut is that pair of dots that they put over letters in some German words.” I raise my eyebrows at her. “Seriously.” She starts on a new box, unfolding it and taping the bottom closed. “It’s actually not as lame as it sounds.”

“That should be their motto. The Umlaut Foundation. We’re not as lame as we sound.”

Jillian laughs. “They actually do some cool stuff. Every year the Umlaut Foundation features a
Need to Know
artist from Atlanta at their fund-raiser. Last year it was Kiki Bird.”

“She’s the one who does the thing with the shoes, isn’t she?” I ask.

“See?” Jillian says. “It’s a pretty big deal for an artist to be selected.”

“Are you going?” I ask.

Jillian rolls her eyes. “I’m trying to get out of it.”

“It might be fun,” I say.

“Yeah,” she says. She purses her lips and gestures toward the wall. “Excellent use of color.” She makes her voice lower. “Superb use of negative space.” She rolls her eyes at me. “These things are excruciating.”

“Maybe the art will be good,” I say, trying to salvage something for her. “Who is it this year?” I ask.

Jillian shrugs. “Some painter. He does these huge landscapes with found objects.”

I nod then look back over at her. “What’s the artist’s name?” I ask.

“Frank something. I don’t remember.”

“Is it Frank Wishman?” I ask.

She nods. “How did you know?”

I smile. I am very familiar with the paintings she’s talking about. “Frank Wishman is Charlie’s dad,” I say.

“Really?” Jillian says, drawing the word out so it sounds like it has eight syllables instead of two. I squint at her. She smiles at me like the Cheshire Cat.

I look around to make sure Jeremy isn’t listening. “What about the
hottie
who sits in front of you in chem?”

She just waves her fingers at me. “Piper, do you realize that there are only nine more days until Valentine’s Day?”

“Um yeah,” I say, thinking of the big sign in Jan’s window where he’s been counting down to V-Day since the beginning of the month.

“Then you can understand why I’m keeping more than one plate spinning.” I nod, but something about her calling Charlie a plate that she’s spinning makes me feel slightly protective of him. I start to tell her that Charlie isn’t just
some
plate
, but she already has her phone to her ear.

“Mom,” she says. “I want to go.” She pauses, listening. “I just changed my mind. That’s all.” She looks at me. “How many badges can I have?” She listens again. “I need five, including me.” She smiles at me and nods, listening again. “Okay, I’ll ask.” She pulls the phone away from ear. “Can we do three hundred?” she asks, pointing to the truffles.

“I don’t know,” I say. “I’ll have to ask Jan.” I walk to the front of the store where Jeremy is helping Jan refill the bins of hard candy. “She wants three hundred,” I tell Jan.

He rolls his eyes then smiles. “Okay, but it’s going to clean us out.”

“You should start packing up the Love Potion Number Nine truffles,” Jeremy says.

Jan smiles at him. “I knew there was a reason I pay you the big bucks.”

“You don’t pay me,” Jeremy says.

“Right,” Jan says. “I guess we should fix that.” I shake my head and walk back into the kitchen, leaving Jeremy and Jan
to negotiate. I nod at Jillian, who relays the information to her mother, then hangs up the phone.

“We’re in,” she says, smiling at me. “You can bring Ben Donovan, and Claire—well, we’ll figure out something for Claire.”

“I don’t know,” I say. “I mean, I’m not sure I—”

“Piper, look. Maybe the irony of all this is lost on you, but I think it’s the least you can do for Claire and me.”

“The irony?” I ask.

Jillian rolls her eyes at me. “Don’t you think it’s a
little
ironic that the one person who couldn’t care less about romance or anything vaguely love-related is the only one of us that has a solid prospect for Valentine’s Day?”

I sigh and start folding another one of the truffle boxes and affixing the silver seal to the top. Why is it that the more I try to duck the whole Valentine’s Day thing, the more everyone around me seems to be conspiring against me? “Fine,” I say. “I’m in.”

Jillian smiles at me. “I’m going to call Claire right now.” She pokes at her phone. I decide that I need a little fresh air. I push open the back door and walk out to the alley. I lean against the wall and close my eyes. Jillian’s wrong. It isn’t that I don’t care about love. I do. It’s just not for me. I mean, I like the idea of love. I know it makes you feel warm and sort of floaty, but I know what’s on the other side of that floaty feeling. I’ve seen it in my mother’s eyes when Jack left and when Beau decided he’d rather have a girlfriend than a
wife. I saw it in Claire’s eyes when Stuart thought he needed someone new to hold hands with. I saw it in Charlie’s dad when Mrs. Wishman decided she needed to have a new life three thousand miles away from her husband and son. And even though I’ve never had my heart broken by a guy, I’ve felt enough of that empty, hard feeling you get in your stomach when someone who you believed in and trusted and loved just disappears. So, no thank you. I’ll just keep my heart where it is, where it’s safe.

I take a deep breath. It’s going to be a long night. There are hundreds of truffles to make. There are Consternation Hearts to box up. And apparently there are at least two people counting on me to pull it together enough to keep their Valentine’s hopes alive. I push away from the wall, taking one more look out into the quickly darkening sky. It’s too bright here under the lights to see the stars, but I say a wish anyway. “I wish…” I whisper, but I don’t know how to finish.

I walk back into the kitchen, where Jillian is trying not to laugh at Jeremy, who has donned a headband with flashing heart lights sticking up from it. Jan has on an identical headband. Jillian is fiddling with hers. Only one of the hearts will stay lit.

“Hey, Piper,” Jan says. “Where’s your Valentine’s Day spirit?” He hands me a headband and I turn on the lights, watching them blink. I slip my headband on my head, feeling the hearts bouncing on their springs.

“I think my heart’s defective,” Jillian says. I have to force myself to smile when Jan looks at me. I get the joke, but for some reason it just isn’t funny right now.

“I can fix that,” Jeremy says, taking Jillian’s headband from her. He pulls out the battery and looks at the wires that run from it. He twists one of them a little with his fingers and reinserts the battery.

“You are so nerdy,” Jillian says. I look over at her. It’s not what she said, but how she said it. It almost sounded like a compliment. “Yay,” Jillian says, when he flips the switch and both hearts stay lit. Jillian takes the headband from him and slips it on. She wobbles her head, making them clack together. “Jeremy,” she says, grinning at him. “You fixed my broken heart.” Both Jan and Jeremy laugh. All I can do is give that same half smile. Jan looks at me for a long moment, but I just shake my head at him. I know I already have a reputation for cynicism in all matters of love. I don’t need to state the obvious.

Claire comes by after helping my mom close up the flower shop. She rolls up her sleeves, dons a pair of plastic gloves, and starts helping stuff truffles into boxes. As she does, she tells us about all the weird orders that she’s been taking at the shop.

“Some guy ordered twelve dozen roses for his wife. That’s one hundred and forty-four roses,” she explains, as if we can’t do the math.

“Now
that
is romantic,” Jillian says.

“Seems desperate to me,” I say. Everyone looks at me. “Oh, come on. Twelve dozen? That’s a little over the top.”

“I once bought six dozen roses for my wife,” Jan says.

“Why only six?” I ask. “Why not twelve?” I smirk at him, but he just looks at me for a moment before going back to stirring the bowl of chocolate he has melting on the stove. Suddenly the kitchen feels really small.

Jeremy looks from me to Jan then back at the truffles he’s packaging. “I think sending some chick one hundred and forty-four roses is a bold move. As I always say: Go big or go home.”

Jillian snorts. “Exactly when do you say that?”

“Well, now for one,” Jeremy says. Jillian shakes her head, but she can’t help smiling. “Oh,” Jeremy explains, making us all look at him. “Jan, I have the best idea for next month.” Jan looks over at Jeremy, but not before catching my eye and smiling a little. I let out the breath I was holding and resolve to keep my negativity to myself.

“Tell me,” Jan says.

“Bacon.”

“Bacon?” Jan tilts his head to one side.

“Everyone likes bacon,” Jeremy says. He looks at all of us. Jillian and Claire nod and I cast my vote too, nodding along with them. “And everyone likes chocolate.”

“Hmm,” Jan says. He keeps stirring the bowl of chocolate. “Bacon truffles.” Jan smiles over at us. “You guys are
really earning your pay today.” Jillian and Claire both protest that he doesn’t actually pay them anything, making Jan laugh. He stops stirring and lifts the bowl from the stove. He pours the chocolate onto the marble slab set into the counter and begins folding it in on itself over and over with a long spatula.

Jan instructs Jeremy to order sandwiches for all of us. Jeremy takes our orders and calls Jersey Mike’s, the sub place next to my mom’s shop. I start to tell Jeremy not to order from them, remembering what a hard time they’ve been giving my mom about her expansion. But I can’t think of anywhere else that will deliver and of the five of us, only Jan can drive. And he refuses to leave us alone after last time.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” he says. “It’s me. I just worry too much.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t trust us,” Jillian says, winking at him. This makes him smile and I feel a little jealous of how easy it is for Jillian. She seems to know the exact thing to say to make people happy. Even Jeremy. Even though she is constantly deflecting any of his romantic overtures, he still keeps looking at her like she’s pluperfect—more than perfect.

“Order extra bacon,” Jan tells Jeremy before he hangs up the phone. “So I hear you girls are going to this fancy shindig,” Jan says, nodding at the boxes we’re filling.

“Only if I can find someone to go with me,” Claire says. “I don’t want to be the fifth wheel.” I start to mention that Jillian isn’t exactly going
with
Charlie when Jeremy pipes up.

“I’ll go,” he says. Jillian looks over at him. I’m expecting some snarky remark from her, but she doesn’t say anything.

“You know you’d be going with
me
?” Claire asks. Jeremy nods. Jillian is watching them, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. Claire looks at him for a moment. “Okay,” she finally says. “Might as well.” Might as well isn’t exactly what I would hope for in response to an invitation, but Jeremy seems fine with it. I look over at Jillian, who is shaking her head. She seems surprised by this turn of events and a tiny bit perturbed. I can’t help but wonder if she’s a little jealous.

My cell phone hoots from my jacket pocket. I walk over to where I hung it on the hook near the back door. “Hello?” I say, turning away from where Claire and Jillian are having an intense discussion about what to wear to the Umlaut event. “Wait,” I say, “I can’t hear you.” I step out the back door and into the alley, letting the door whoosh shut behind me.