“No, Dean. I need to do this without you.”
The air between us vibrates with irritation. The pattern of my quilt blurs before my eyes. Once again, it would be so easy to surrender. Dean would give Allie and me whatever amount of money we need, we’d start our fanciful little business… and there would be a huge safety net beneath us no matter what went wrong.
Who wouldn’t want to accept such an offer?
And how would I feel about myself if I did?
I straighten my spine and take a breath before speaking again.
“Thank you,” I say. “And I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. You know in the Wizard of Oz when Dorothy realizes at the end that the ruby slippers will bring her home? And Glinda the Good Witch of the North tells her that she had to learn for herself that she always had the power?”
“Uh, sure.”
“It’s like that.”
“Okay.” He sounds faintly confused.
I search my brain for something he can better relate to. “Or it’s like King Arthur. He couldn’t have become king if he hadn’t had the strength to pull Excalibur from the stone, right?”
“Actually, evidence is that there were two swords,” Dean says. “And there are a few different versions of that story, one from Geoffrey of Monmouth stating that the Lady of the Lake gave Arthur the sword after he ascended the throne.”
I can’t help smiling. My sexy, wonderful husband, a scholar to the core.
“Do you get my point at all, professor?” I ask.
He’s silent for a moment. I almost hold my breath.
“I get it,” he says, and now the tone of his voice indicates that he really does.
“Okay.” I exhale slowly, my tension easing. “You know I love you like a bee loves honey.”
“You know I can’t wait to pollinate your flower.”
I chuckle. “It’s been a while since you have, huh?”
“Way too long, baby.”
My heart tightens a little. Neither of us knows exactly how much longer it will be.
“Still there?” Dean asks.
“I’m here. I miss you.”
“I miss you too, beauty.”
I imagine him lying on his bed, one arm behind his head, his T-shirt stretched across his muscular chest. I shake off my brief sorrow and run a hand over my body.
“You know, I’ve been having such hot dreams about us,” I remark.
“Am I still a gladiator in your dreams?”
“You’ve been all sorts of sexy, manly things.” I close my eyes and settle deeper into the chair. “A knight, of course. A vampire.”
“I’m sure I bit you.”
“Uh huh.” I slide a hand underneath my T-shirt to my breasts. “You’ve been a rock star, a cowboy, a firefighter… oh, that was a good one because you rescued me from a burning building, then couldn’t take your hands off me… And once you were a half-naked genie—”
“A genie?”
“Mmm. You went up in smoke when I rubbed your lamp.”
I don’t know whether to be annoyed or amused when Dean starts laughing.
Over the next week, Allie and I continue to brainstorm ideas for the café as we finish emptying the bookstore. I call Marianne to set up a meeting so Allie can also see the interior of Matilda’s Teapot.
“We were talking about murals.” Allie spreads out her hands to frame the south wall. “Maybe we could paint a scene of the Mad Hatter tea party there. Curtains and tablecloths with patterns of cards on them. And if we do the Wizard of Oz upstairs, we could decorate the rooms according to the location. Like Emerald City, a Kansas farm, Munchkinland, and the witch’s castle.”
“You’ll have to get inspections done, but the building itself is up to code,” Marianne says. “And the kitchen is ready for cooking and customers, so it would be a matter of redecorating, establishing the menu, ordering new inventory, and working out a business plan.”
I glance at her. “You told me you were sorry you had to retire, but that running the tearoom became too much for one person.”
“That’s true.”
“Would you be interested in helping us do some planning?” I ask. “We could use your expertise.”
“I’d love to. I can give you all the overhead costs and help you with permits and insurance. I can also put you in touch with my suppliers and even my former staff, if you’d like.”
The three of us sit down at one of the tables. Allie gets out her notebook and I open my laptop.
“Oh, and a local magazine is doing a story on Matilda’s Teapot and how it became an institution,” Marianne continues. “If it works out with your idea, the reporter might include you in the story as the next business for the historic building. It’s a magazine about women entrepreneurs, so it would be a great angle.”
“Great publicity too,” Allie remarks.
Though I’m excited at the idea of even being considered an entrepreneur, by the time we’ve figured out a budget for start-up expenses, I’m shell-shocked at how much it will all cost.
“If we get moving soon, we can start remodeling right away,” Allie says as she and I walk back to the Happy Booker. “Even set a date for opening. The sooner we can open, the faster we can start turning a profit.”