“What the heck is going on?” I said, moving toward Mr. Henson.
“Tanner is getting his wish. I’m closing down shop.”
“What? I thought you called me here to try to figure this out.” My fingers ran though my hair. “You can’t close up shop. Did he do this at the town hall meeting? He can’t do this!”
“It doesn’t matter, Tristan. I already sold the shop.”
“To who? I’ll get it back. Whatever it takes. Who did you sell it to?”
“The town asshole.”
“Tanner can’t have this shop. You can’t let him win.”
“I wasn’t talking about Tanner.”
“Then who were you talking about?”
He turned my way and took my hand, placing a set of keys in my grasp. “You.”
“What?”
“It’s yours, every inch, every square,” Mr. Henson sang.
“What are you talking about?”
“Well,” he said, sitting on top of one of the boxes. “I’ve lived my dream. I’ve seen the magic this place can create. Now it’s time I give it to someone else who needs a little magic in their life. Someone who needs a little dreaming.”
“I’m not taking your shop.”
“Oh, but see, that’s the beauty in all of it. You are taking it. It’s already yours. I set up all of the paperwork. All you have to do is cross a few t’s and dot a few i’s.”
“What would I even do with it?” I asked.
“You have a dream, Tristan. The furniture that your father and you create would get a ton more people into this space than my old crystals ever did. Don’t let anyone ever kill your dreams, my boy.” He pushed himself up from his box, moved over to the counter, and picked up his hat. Placing it on his head, he began walking toward the front door.
“What about you? What are you going to do?” I asked, watching him open the front door, sounding the bell overhead.
“As for me, well, I’m going to go find a new dream, because you’re never too old to dream a little dream, to discover a little magic. I hear there are rumors going around that the town might need some repairs, and I have a few dollars lying around. We’ll chat through the details later on, but for now, I’ll be seeing you.” He winked, walking out the door.
I moved to the store door and opened it fast, glancing in the direction Mr. Henson had disappeared in.
My mind started to wonder if he was some kind of weird hallucination, but when I looked down at the keys in my hands, I knew he was real.
“What are you doing here?”
I turned around to see Elizabeth standing behind me, her arms crossed. “Lizzie,” I muttered, almost stunned to see her standing so close. “Hi.”
“Hi?” She huffed, barging into the store. I followed her inside. “Hi?!” she shouted. “You disappear for months, not giving me a chance to explain myself, and then randomly show up in town, and all you can say is ‘hi’? You’re a…you’re a…a DICK!”
“Lizzie,” I said with narrowed eyes, stepping toward her. She stepped back.
“No. Don’t come near me.”
“Why not?”
“Because whenever you’re near me, I can’t think straight, and I need to think straight right now to say what I need to say.” She stopped talking and took a moment to look around the store. “Oh my gosh. Where is everything? Why is it all boxed away?”
I placed my thumb between my teeth and studied her features. Her hair was longer, lighter too. She was makeup free, and her eyes still had the ability to make me fall in love with her. “You stayed with her.”
“What?” she asked with her back leaning against the counter.
I walked closer to her, boxing her in as my hands rested against the countertop. “You stayed with Jamie.”
Her breathing pattern became uneven, and she stared at my lips as I stared at hers. “Tristan, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The day of the accident, my mom was in the waiting room by herself because Dad and I were still flying back from Detroit. You saw her, and you held her.”
“That was your mom?” she asked, her eyes narrowed.
I nodded. “And she said when Jamie and Charlie were out of surgery, you sat with Jamie. You held her hand.” My lips hovered over hers, and I could feel the small exhales leaving her mouth. “What happened when you went into that room with Jamie?”
Her voice shook, and she blinked a few times before tilting her head back slightly to meet my stare. “I sat down beside her bed, held her hand, and told her she wasn’t alone.” My fingers rubbed against my forehead, taking in her words. “She wasn’t in pain, Tristan. When she passed away, the doctors said there wasn’t any pain.”
“Thank you,” I said. I needed to know that.
My left hand moved to her lower back, and I pulled her closer to me. “Tristan, don’t.”
“Tell me not to kiss you,” I begged. “Tell me not to do it.”