I swallowed hard at her words. “Yeah, thanks. I have changed. But I need to tell you something. It’s hard for me to say, and I hope it won’t change things between us. It could. I know the risk, but I think I need to say it. Should have told you long ago.”
The clink of glasses and the hum of a college spring football game being telecast above the bar weren’t loud enough. I didn’t want to shout my admission to Cricket and have everyone in the bar hear it. Of course, there were only about twenty people occupying tables and stools at the bar. “Um, so . . . I served time.”
Cricket blinked rapidly and leaned even closer to me. “Wait. Like you actually went to jail?”
I closed my eyes because it sounded so horrible coming from the mouth of someone I respected, someone who would never have allowed herself to be used in such a way. “Um, yeah. It’s a long story, but it ended with me at Long Pines Correctional doing almost two years.”
My boss sat back, her eyes shifting from left to right and back again as she grappled with what I had just revealed. She cleared her throat and looked off. I waited, feeling like someone had their hands around my throat. I shouldn’t have told her. She’d never asked. The application hadn’t asked about felonies, only prior work experience and references. But I should have disclosed it. My parole officer had told me to be truthful on job applications, and I always had until this one. Because I had wanted to work in the store with the beeswax and vintage dresses.
Finally, after several seconds that felt like hours, Cricket leaned forward. “That must have been horrible, Ruby. I can’t imagine.”
This time it was I who had to take a moment to comprehend that she was . . . offering me sympathy for having to endure prison? I sucked in a deep breath and blinked away sudden tears. “You’re not going to fire me?”
“No. Why would I fire you? You’re one of the best employees I’ve ever had, and you’re, well, Ruby, you’re my friend. I know the real you. Or I think I do. I mean, let’s face it, I could possibly be a bad judge of character.” She gave a self-deprecating laugh that put me immediately at ease. “Why did you have to serve time? Did you kill someone?”
I laughed at that. “No. And if I had, it would have been more than twenty-two months of incarceration. No, I unknowingly transported meth for my uncle. He hid it in frozen wild game that he ‘donated’ to the Hunters for the Hungry nonprofit. He had a whole distribution thing going that was actually pretty clever. I certainly had no idea he was dealing meth. Like a moron, I dropped it by the place where they kept all the meat. When the police busted me, I didn’t squeal. I couldn’t. Ed Earl had been using my grandmother’s land and her bank accounts to hide the product and the money. I couldn’t risk getting my gran involved, and Ed Earl would have gone away for a long time. So I refused to talk, and because I had priors, I had to do the time.”
“Oh my God,” Cricket breathed, pressing her hand to her mouth. “That’s crazy.”
“I know. It was . . . well, something I’m not willing to ever repeat. And because I got railroaded by a member of my family, I knew how you felt when you found out your husband was cheating and thought you were too stupid to figure it out. I was angry for you because I had been there. Well, in a way.”
Cricket reached over and put her hand over mine. “I’m so sorry, Ruby. Life has dealt you an unfair hand, but I’m going to help you find a better dealer. I mean, not a dealer, but you know what I mean. I’m going to help you get your business started. Because your deconstructed dresses fashioned into—” She stopped, her eyes growing big.
“What?” I asked.
“It’s an analogy, Ruby. You’ve taken the good parts and made them into something better. It’s like a theme for both of our lives. Well, at least yours. You’re re-creating your life, Ruby, and it’s worthwhile.” Tears glittered in her eyes and she smiled. “Oh, oh . . . What do you think about calling your clothing line Deconstructed?”
I turned my hand over in hers and gave it a squeeze, my heart suddenly lighter. That burden I carried had been lifted, and Cricket had taken it and tossed it over her shoulder as if it were nothing more than some spilled salt. “You know, I think Deconstructed is a perfect name. Even though the ripped-up parts are used to reconstruct the new thing.”
Cricket withdrew her hand, took a sip of wine, and narrowed her eyes. “True, but without the deconstructing, you have no history. It’s the deconstruction that matters. Without understanding who you are and accepting all the good and bad parts of your past, you don’t know the things worth keeping, and you can’t get rid of the things that need to be tossed. You can’t remake yourself.”
Her words sank inside me, causing me to cast yet another glance at Dak. “That’s true. Maybe I focused way too much on the stains and rips rather than seeing how the rest of me could become something better. I can’t change my past. I can’t hide it under a big, ugly sweater, either.”
“No. Neither of us can. I guess we all find out in life that a little deconstructing—a bit of pulling away, examination, trimming, and refitting—helps us discover what will hold up. And if we’re lucky, we get a chance to become something even better.” Cricket nodded as she affirmed these things to herself. Her color was back to normal. Distracting her with the sins of my past had at least taken her mind off the sins of the present.
“This whole analogy thing is pretty good, Cricket. Oh, and I meant to tell you another thing—Ed Earl came to see me last night and gave me a check for eighty thousand dollars.” I couldn’t believe I was blabbing about the money, too. It was like once I had opened the closet door to my real self, I had tap-danced out in a shimmy dress. “I’m thinking it would be great seed money for my new side business. Maybe get a website and some advertising? Or something.”
“Eighty thousand? That’s a great apology,” Cricket said, her lips finally curving into a smile. “How about we do a soft launch of your line at the Spring Fling? That could be perfect. Do you think a month is enough time? I know someone who can do the website. We have only four dresses, though. I would think you’d need a few more. But you can also do custom. Yes, ready-to-wear and custom pieces . . . hmm.”
Juke entered the bar through the kitchen as Cricket mulled over a plan for my business, tossing Shirley a wave as he beelined for our table. “Hey, Juke is here. We’ll talk dresses later.”
Cricket lost her smile as she drained the wineglass and set it down.
“Hiya, ladies,” Juke said, turning and catching Dak’s eye. “Coffee if you don’t mind, Dak.”
“Well, you look positively normal, Juke,” I said, noting that his shirt was clean and his jaw was freshly shaven.
My cousin waved my compliment away as he hooked an empty chair with his foot and dragged it over to our table. “Yeah, okay, I get it. I know I’ve been acting a fool. But Griffin threatened to beat me into oblivion, so I decided I like my mug enough to keep it pretty.”
I snorted.