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After the service, there was tea and cake in the community room adjacent to the chapel. Nadine took a slice of someone’s homemade lemon loaf onto a plate.

Her aunt Martha made a face and came over to her. “Careful, dear,” she said. “Now that you’re single again, you have to watch that figure.”

Oh boy.

Was that really what she cared about on a day like today?

“Thanks,” Nadine said, taking a bite. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“You’ve got your mother’s hips. And you know what
that
means.”

Nadine scowled. How many times had the mean aunts made fun of her mom’s slightly larger than average hips? It was one thing at a birthday celebration, but this was Grandpa Winston’s day.

Aunt Shirley sauntered up to them. “I’m not interrupting, am I?”

“No,” Nadine said, taking another bite of lemon cake.

“So, tell us,” Aunt Shirley said with her usual gregarious smile, “are you seeing anyone yet?”

“No,” Nadine said, her tone cool and formal. “Not yet.”

“Well, no need to worry, dear. You’re young.”

What was that supposed to mean? Was it really so hideous in the minds of her aunts to be an unwed woman over thirty? Wasn’t it better to be single than to have married the kind of guy who’d walk out?

“I’m keeping busy with work,” she said, in an effort to justify her life.

“Oh, yes. That’s right. Our little investment broker,” Aunt Shirley said, squeezing Nadine’s arm.

“Our career girl,” Aunt Martha agreed.

“Well, actually, I’m back at the bookstore, remember?”

Does nobody around here ever listen?

“Heavens, no. I don’t think I heard that,” Aunt Shirley said.

Nadine wanted to roll her eyes, but there was no point. Her aunts did their best. “Yeah, at the university. It’s a decent job with benefits. When Simmons & Co laid me off last year, I had to take it.”

“Oh dear.” Aunt Martha looked at her with pity. Both of her mother’s sisters seemed evil to her in that moment. Their focus shouldn’t even be on Nadine’s life at all. If there was one time to not have to face their catty gossip, surely it’d be a day like this.

“I still don’t believe it’s over between you and Allan,” Aunt Martha said, as though it was supposed to be a comfort.

“Shirley’s right. He’ll be back for you.”

Ugh. If that happens, I’d rather join Grandpa Winston.

Nadine excused herself and wandered away. She couldn’t be around their negative views. She, too, felt that her life had fallen apart. She no longer had her glamorous job. She’d lost the status of having a fiancé, which in her family meant that she was relegated to sitting at the kids’ table at family events. And she had just lost the one man who had accepted her unconditionally—Grandpa Winston. There was nothing that seemed certain anymore except for one little thing. Allan was not a prize worth waiting for. It had hurt her bitterly that he’d left, but if he ever came back, she would definitely not marry him. She might throw a wrench or a brick at him, but marriage was
not
an option.

Chapter Two

One year later

Nadine was up at six, as usual. After her morning yoga, she made a mug of tea and sat down to eat breakfast—oatmeal sprinkled with cinnamon and blueberries. She went over her business affirmations, reciting feel-good phrases in an attempt to convince herself that she could do this. Building up a business from scratch was not easy, but neither was any dream worth striving for. Having given up on her earlier dreams of being Allan’s wife and her former firm’s youngest and brightest, she had spent the past year seeking clarity. It had come in the form of an epiphany. One day, she had realized that the one thing in this life that made her happy was working with furniture. She’d been happy in all the years of her childhood and adolescence when she
’d
hung out at Grandpa Winston’s shop, watching him for hours at a time as he sanded and varnished. She loved the smell of the solvents he used. And she lived for the scent of wood. It was divine.

As she took a sip of her morning tea, she thought about how strange life was that in all the years when she could have apprenticed with her grandfather, she had never considered it. Now that he was gone, she wanted nothing more than to get back into his workshop and learn from the best. He’d been like a wizard with his hands, working his magic on pieces of furniture that other people had abandoned. It had been incredible to see what he could do with chests of drawers that had survived fires, wars, divorces and years of being locked away in damp garages. Nadine admired not just the beauty he had been able to create, but also the way he saw craftsmanship as something sacred—like he owed it to history and posterity to preserve each and every cabinet and bookshelf and credenza that came his way.

Yet, for all her admiration, Nadine’s vision seemed insurmountable this morning. She browsed through the classified section, as she did each morning, looking for a space that might function as a storefront as well as a workshop. She wanted exactly the kind of setup that Grandpa Winston’d had. How she kicked herself for not knowing this a year earlier when her parents had put his very shop up for sale. Grandpa Winston had lived upstairs, done his work in the back and served customers up front for as long as she could remember. Alas, she would have to find some other way to have a storefront. And on a day like this one, it all seemed a little too daunting. In her mind’s eye, she saw herself unable to hoist furniture onto the back of her truck. How had her grandfather managed to do it into his golden years? She imagined herself falling into debt, the way so many businesses in this town did. It was quite common in this economy to open a shop and close it down again within the same year for lack of business. Ann Arbor had suffered just like every other small town across America, and Nadine was afraid. What made her think she could handle it?

She said her affirmations out loud to try to silence the negative thoughts that played continually as the music of her mind.

“I am capable. I am strong. I am successful.”

She got up from the breakfast table, put her bowl and mug in the dishwasher, got dressed and did her makeup. By seven, she was in her car. By half past seven, she was at her desk in the basement of the University of Michigan’s bookstore. This was busy season—September. This was the time to sock away savings so that when the perfect location became available, she would be able to make her move. She wanted badly to quit this asinine job, but living without medical insurance and a high enough income to support herself? She would not. Her parents had raised her to have high expectations. She was used to the best. But this last year had seen her evaluate what that meant. Nadine had stopped going for regular manicures and pedicures. She’d quit shopping for brand name clothing and expensive cosmetics and fragrances. She’d laid off the cocktail lounges and nice dinners with friends. Everything was about her new dream.

She logged onto the bookstore network and got to work immediately, recording the sales from the night before, inputting orders to textbook suppliers and following up on invoices. Morning was the only time to do this, for once nine o’clock rolled around, she had to supervise the student workforce and make sure they didn’t screw up. They had to keep the stock flowing from the skids here in Shipping and Receiving to the stacks on the floor. That was not easy. She remembered it from the other perspective, too, back when she’d been a UMich student and this had been her part-time job. But now she was the boss, and she vowed to do the best she could.

After all, if everything went her way, this would be the last job she ever had. If she could secure a deposit on a storefront, she’d take a chance on the only dream that mattered. And she’d call it Nadine’s Fine Furniture, in the tradition of her grandfather.

Chapter Three

David went to the staffroom to put away his coat and book bag. The lockers were all full already, so he put his stuff down in a corner beside the kitchenette.

“Not there,” a muffled voice said.

David turned to see a guy cramming the last bite of a sandwich into his face.

“It’s a fire hazard.”

“How’s it a fire hazard?”

“Beats me, dude,” the guy said, still chewing. “Just sayin’.”

“Well, where should I put this?” David had his arms full.

The guy shoved a pile of coats to one side as if his forearm was a wedge. He made a crevice that barely looked like it could fit a handbag and gestured for David to hand his stuff to him.

“Here’s some space.”

“Thanks, man,” David said, checking himself in the staffroom mirror. Nothing in his teeth, so that was good. But he could’ve combed his hair.
Oh well.

The guy was being nice. “Don’t worry about it. It’s your first day, right? I wouldn’t want to see you start off on the wrong foot with Nadine.”

“Who’s she? I’ve only met Hank.”

“Yeah, Hank’s upstairs where it’s civilized. Nadine is the goddess of the underworld.”

“Huh?” David was skeptical.

“She manages Shipping and Receiving and everything on the textbook floor, and there’s nothing she hates more than us part-timers getting in her way. Anyway, your backpack will be fine here. Let’s get upstairs.”

David followed the guy through a maze of textbooks to a giant staircase and up to the main floor of the university bookstore.

A crowd of other clipboard-toting trainees clustered around Hank, who was not yet in training mode. Actually, it looked like he was flirting with a couple of the girls, but who could tell?

* * * *

After the first training session, David’s mind was in overload. There were so many transactions to remember. Being a cashier was a lot more complicated than he had thought it would be, but the job was a major score. Every undergrad wanted to work at the bookstore. The union wages were high and access to advance purchasing and jumping the line-ups were perks that made all the difference in the first week of classes. Besides, after six months of living on an island off the coast of Cuba with his old friend from elementary school, David felt like the job was a great way to get back into the capitalist disciplined schedule he’d tried to rebel against while surfing and lying on the beach watching the pelicans fly by.

Hank dismissed the trainees after only two hours. “Consider it a bonus,” he said. “You’ll all be paid for four hours.”

Everyone cheered. One of the two girls Hank had flirted with earlier said—a little too loudly—“Oh my God. Hank is so nice.” She giggled and led the group of trainees downstairs. As David made his way to the staircase, a guy came up beside him.

“First year at the bookstore?” he asked.

“Yeah. You?”

“Nah. Third year. Best job on campus.”

“Tell me about it. I’m going to try to hang onto this gig for the rest of my degree.”

“You and everyone else here. I’m Sam.” He extended his hand, a gesture David didn’t see often. He shook it.

“David.”

“Word of advice, though. If anyone asks you to trade a cashiering shift for one in Shipping and Receiving, don’t do it.”

“Why not?”

“Just trust me.”

As they made their way to the staffroom, David caught a glimpse of a buxom blonde—likely a professor considering her gray pencil skirt and fitted, silky coral blouse.

“Shit, that’s her. Look down,” the guy said.

“Who?”

“Nadine,” he whispered then he made a beeline for the staffroom. “Goddess of the underworld.”

She was surveying a complex floor stack of textbooks, stepping back and analyzing it as though it was a sculpture at an art museum. David’s jaw dropped. She did look like a goddess, but not one who reigned over an ancient hell. She was stunning.

* * * *

During his first training shift when he was to finally get in front of the register, he worked alongside Chrissy, a pretty kinesiology major with a ski-jump nose. Right after the fifteen-minute break, Hank took her aside for a few minutes. When she got back, she looked upset, but David had a waiting line and so did she, so there was no way to discuss it.

As soon as Hank had closed the front gate on the last student and the bookstore was officially empty and closed, everyone cashed out. A symphony of registers spewed their till tape. It took two minutes, just long enough for Chrissy to tell David what had happened.

She shook her head like she’d been told she had to eat dirt. “Hank wants to take me off cash and put me down in Shipping and Receiving.”

David, who hated seeing girls suffer, said, “Could be a nice change of scenery.” He shrugged his shoulders, and Chrissy couldn’t help but smile.

“He’s preying on my niceness and my inability to say no. I’m gonna get eaten alive by the queen of the underworld.”

“I believe her official title is goddess of the underworld.” David was surprised that Chrissy didn’t laugh at his joke.

“She scares me.”

David thought for a moment. “Wanna trade?”

“Seriously?” She looked like she was about to hug him.

“Sure.”

“Oh my God.” She bounced up and down in front of him then flirtatiously wrapped her arms around him for a brief second. “Thank you so much.”

She ran off to get Hank to make it official.

They took their registers downstairs to count the cash. Hank found him in the middle of his quarters. He lost count. Hank told him to report to Nadine the following day. David nodded and resumed counting. Had he just made the biggest mistake of the semester?

* * * *

The next morning, after showering with his sandalwood soap, he toweled off and put his hair into a ponytail. It might be time to cut it soon, he thought as he saw himself in the mirror, but it was still only September and he wanted to keep the hair as a reminder of his totally relaxed spring and summer.

He put on his best work clothes—khaki pants and a plaid shirt. Everything about David was casual. His wardrobe mirrored his attitude toward life, and he liked it that way. He got to the bookstore early and was already designing stack layouts in his mind when Nadine came to open the door to the underworld.