“Are you unhappy here?”
“I love the shop. I do. But I need to do other things now. C’mon,” she shrugged and looked like she wanted to say more. “You know I don’t have to work. I choose to work. But Sean needs me home more. I will probably stop in everyday, you know. I go crazy in my house. You understand.”
Elly did not understand. Kim lived in a huge house on Magdalyne Drive, which was just up the street. The community was gated, a lush park full of flowers and large stone houses, all of which were paid off with old money. Clayton was full of old money. Families that had made their fortunes during the time of the 1904 World’s Fair passed it down through generations, leaving many a young couple with more money than they ever dreamed. Kim’s husband Sean was a urological surgeon and made a pretty good living, but the house had been bought by his mother, who was the heir to the famous Creeden fortune. Their home was amazing. It was a combination of exquisite stones, rich fabrics and cutting edge art, picked by Kim’s eclectic eye, and old world furnishings, worth thousands of dollars. Elly loved going to Kim’s house. She was there practically every other day.
“No, I don’t understand. You don’t have to do anything. Are you just going to lay by the pool all day and drink mai tais? Why are you quitting? Is there a real reason?”
Kim’s face, even though Elly had just insulted her, stayed unruffled. “No. And I know that will upset you. I don’t have to justify myself to you…can’t you understand? Sometimes you just need to do what’s best for you.” She looked straight at Elly. “I would think you of all people would understand that.”
Elly sat back like she had been slapped. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Kim leaned forward. “I didn’t mean anything.”
“No, what did you mean? TELL me. I mean, you obviously have no problem inconveniencing me.” Elly stood quickly. Kim stood as well.
“Okay. Fine. You left everything behind in Georgia. Your friends, your job, your house. You stopped going to church. You seem to have no problem doing what is best for you. I’m glad that you did, because if you hadn’t I wouldn’t have you in my life. But it’s wrong of you to sit there and judge me for quitting. This is my life, and I need to not work here anymore. That is the bottom line. This conversation is over. I knew you would freak out, but I didn’t know you would be so mean.”
Kim stood up and walked out the door, the bells clanking behind her. Elly wiped a tear from her eye. It had been years since she had fought like this with someone, and she had never fought with Kim. From that moment in the coffee shop, where Kim had saved her, they had been inseparable, the kind of adult friendship that she had always wanted. Most Sundays, Kim and Elly laid on bright pink rafts in Kim’s pool, floating lazily, her fingers trailing in the cool water, drinking smoothies and watching Sean fight with the grill. There was no way around it; Kim was her family here.
Elly instantly felt a painful twinge of remorse.
“Kim!” she walked outside, and saw Kim sitting at one of the small tables on the patio area, wiping her eyes. “I’m sorry.” She wrapped Kim up in her arms. It was so easy to hold skinny people. “I’m just sad you won’t be working for me anymore. Does that mean I have to promote Mood Swing over there?”
Kim laughed as they both looked through the window into the store. Snarky Teenager was designing at the window-side table and chatting on her cell phone at the same time. She popped the head off a rose, mouthed a curse word and flung the rose stem against the window. “She’s hopeless,” Elly sighed, “but maybe she just needs more direction.”
“I know,” Kim said, as she nuzzled her head into Elly’s shoulder. “I will always be around. Just not on the clock. You know I’ll be here every day anyway. You’re okay, but what I really need is my daily grilled cheese from Keith.”
Elly smacked Kim’s arm and they headed into the shop to finish out the day’s work. When Elly arrived at her apartment hours later, with a pastry bag in one hand and a bouquet of blue delphinium in the other, there was a note posted on the door in a simple white envelope which read “Elly.” She frowned. She hadn’t been late on rent, had she? Crap, she thought, as she stuck the envelope between her teeth and opened the door. Thirty minutes later, after letting Cadbury pull her around the block several times, she sat down at her tiny kitchen table and wiped a bit of cannoli cream off her face. The note was written on some sort of red, thin paper with Indian ink drawings.