Embraceable You (Irish Hearts Series) (9 page)

BOOK: Embraceable You (Irish Hearts Series)
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"I’ve got about all the challenges I need right now. I don’t need this one."

"This is where you get control of your own life," Goldie insisted. "Other jobs – somebody else’s problems. You have no control. With your own place, you’re in charge."

Siena made a funny face. "This place is full of hokey, touristy merchandise. That’s not my choice."

"You're right. You’ve got to specialize in something and do it very well. And if you don’t love it, you’re going to bomb, no doubt about it.  But if you love it, you’ll succeed, no matter what."

"It's so hard to change, Goldie. I had a good job and salary. Maybe I jumped too soon."

Goldie folded her arms. "Trust your instincts.  Don't look back. Starting new is hard. But you’ve got to make it yours. Then you'll be happy."

Siena shook her head in frustration. "This is more like starting old – everything there is old.  Like antique-old. The town is old-world traditional, even the people."

"Blend the two. Something old, something new." Goldie wagged her finger and Siena could see a glimpse of the sassy young woman she once was. "Make it work for you."

"It just seems hopeless.  The shop is way out of date. My aunt’s biggest product is hand-made, antique Irish lace. It’s beautiful, but not much wanted. And I have piles of it. Definitely not what you’d call a hot item. What sells in this economy when money is so tight?"

"With all that lace, how about lingerie? A new shop went in just across the street, and it's drawing lot of attention, especially with the window displays."

Siena swallowed her frustration in another sip of coffee and considered the possibility. Goldie's husband died a few years ago, leaving her a widow at fifty. She closed the shop for about six months and went to visit her sister in Chicago. She came back saying, fifty is the new forty and I can do anything. And she did. 

Goldie leaned over. "Say, did I tell you that when we got married, David’s family ran a butcher shop here?"

"A meat shop? Here?" Siena looked at the happy yellow and blue walls, the friendly soda-fountain tables and chairs, the banks of cakes and other yummy pastries. The customers were eager and loyal. And the best part, Goldie always said, they left with a full belly and a smile. "It hasn’t always been a coffee shop? I didn’t know that."

"Listen, I came from a family of bakers. David came from butchers. I didn’t care so much for the meat. When we got here these walls were green and white, like an old-fashioned hospital. My father-in-law gave me a little showcase there on the side, just to pacify the new bride, I’m sure. I baked my own breads and they sold pretty well. Pretty soon, my bread was selling out every day, especially at holidays. And I did special orders for weddings and such. I sold everything I could make. It's called a market niche, I think. Why, I was forced to hire an assistant to help me keep up with the demands."

Siena took another bite of zucchini bread. "So they changed products when they saw how successful yours was?"

"Oh no, dearie. We had many discussions. Sometimes they ranged to red-hot arguments."

Siena laughed.  "Okay, so it wasn’t easy."

"I hung on. And when my husband’s parents retired to Florida, we inherited the whole building, rentals and all. I convinced David to make the change from meat to bakery products. We painted and decorated the place like a little French coffee shop that I saw in a magazine once. We never looked back. And you know the best thing, Siena? We were doing what we wanted to do, not what someone else set out for us."   

"You’re the best, Goldie."

"The magic is in what gives you the most pleasure. Where’s your heart? There’s nothing as satisfying as running your own business. Unless it’s something to do with your kids."

"You’ve been in business a long time, haven’t you, Goldie?"

"My kids grew up here, helping after school. This place sent them to college. Who knows what they’ll decide to do. Probably not this business, but that’s okay. I want them to find their own passions. This is mine."

Siena finished eating while Goldie waited on another customer. Then she came back to finish their conversation. "The way you love to bake, you could always open your own bakery. But I'll be the first to say it's damn hard work
, starting at four in the mourning."

Siena shook her head. "I bake for fun. I have some other ideas for my business. Thanks, Goldie. For everything.
Your advice is golden."

"Just telling you what worked for me. You have to decide what’s best for you." Goldie pulled a small loaf of zucchini bread from the showcase. "From me. For good luck in your future. You will come back and see me, won’t you?"

"Of course." They hugged and Siena went back upstairs to her apartment to wait for the movers. Everything was packed, even Dana’s meager stuff. The rooms echoed when she walked across the bare floors. She was leaving the best place she’d ever called home. Some were happy times. Others, not so much. Still she felt sad and lonely and frustrated.

On the foot of Dana’s bed lay a red lace pillow, a gift from Aunt Addie. Siena grabbed it and held it close. Aunt Addie had called it their latest creation, a heart’s desire pillow. Sure enough, someone had embroidered
Heart’s Desire
on one side. "Make a wish," she had said, "and it’ll come true. There’s power in that lace."

Yeah, right. Siena felt no luck. Or power. See how fast her life had gone downhill since her breakup with Warren? No job, no love, no home, no
personal power. She walked to the kitchen and stuffed the damned Heart’s Desire Pillow in the trash.

Just as the movers arrived, her cell phone rang. She hand-motioned them inside, muttered a quick, "Everything goes," and answered her phone. She should have checked the caller ID because the minute she heard Warren’s voice, Siena’s stomach knotted.

"Siena, darling, how are you?"

"I’m fine," she snapped. "Extremely fine. As if you give a damn."

"I’ve missed you." He paused then said, "I hope you’ve missed me, too."

"Not for one freekin' minute." The lie came easily, maybe too quickly to be believed.

"Siena, I thought I saw you last night at Rusty’s Nail. Is that possible? Or am I just missing you so much that I’m imagining you back in my life?"

She held the phone at arm’s length and yelled, "No way in hell!"

One of the movers peered at her as he walked past with an armload of boxes.

Okay, she had foolishly gone with
a friend to their favorite hang out last night but when she spotted Warren and his short-skirted bimbo, she left immediately. She was sure no one saw her. Almost sure.

"You weren’t there?"

Siena responded with a tinny laugh. "Not possible, Warren. I was dining with friends." Another lie just slid right out of her mouth. She hated him. He brought out the worst in her. At this point, it was easy to blame him for everything, even her own stupid behavior.

"How about if
. . . oh hell, I’ll just say it. I want to see you again, Siena."

Something inside her exploded and words erupted from her evil, revenge-seeking mouth. "You’re way too late, jackass! I’m moving today. Out of Boston and your life forever."

He paused before asking, "Where are you going, Siena?"

Her breath caught in her throat. Was he having a moment of regret for losing her? Would he like to patch things up? Should she consider…? No, she wouldn’t go there. He’d been an ass, and there was no reason to believe things had changed. She had hung onto hope far too long.

"I’ve got my own business now, Warren. I’ll take everything I learned from you and make my own success." In that moment, she believed she could do anything. And be successful. And even have Zach warming her bed at night. Maybe, if she could get rid of the beautiful Monique.

There was a chuckle in his tone. "What kind of business?"

With verbal venom she spat, "Lacy, racy things. Fine lace handkerchiefs for women like me with a broken heart. And lacy thongs to help them cover their asses when their world falls apart."

"Siena darling, you sound a bit angry."

"Does the word ‘bobbit’ mean anything to you? What I would like to do to you would land me in jail!" She closed the phone, wondering why she had wasted five years of her life with him and another five minutes just now. Oh, what she’d like to do to him right this minute. She shook her head, trying to clear the vengeful mind of a wronged woman. The phone rang again, but she let it go. 

"Excuse me, Lady?"

She looked up and one of the movers was standing in the middle of the almost-empty room, holding the discarded lace pillow.

"Did you mean to toss this? It's pretty."

She glared from him to the lacy thing he held in his hands. "Yes, why?" she muttered, angry to the point of tears. Everything associated with this move was Warren’s fault, and in this moment she hated him and everyone she knew and some she didn’t.

"Would you mind if I take it to my kid? She’s thirteen and loves this kind of thing."

Siena crashed back to earth. The man was nice enough to ask and just wanted to do an ordinary thing. She gave him a little smile. "Yes, please take it."

"You sure you don’t want it?"

"No, please. I want your daughter to have it. And I hope she enjoys it."

"Thanks." He tossed the heart lightly in one hand.

"It’s uh, hand-made. The lace and everything."

"Yeah?"

"And my great-aunt thinks it, the lace, has special powers, like good luck… if you believe."

"Sounds like something my daughter would go all dreamy over. Thanks." He backed away.

Amazingly, Siena felt better. Freed up. It was over, truly over. Warren, the job, living in Boston.  She was headed for a new life where she had the greatest challenge of her career. That was exhilarating. And if it didn’t work, she could always come back to . . . she left that thought unfinished.

Siena loaded her car with clothes, boots, books, music and cosmetics. All the rest were stored until
. . . she needed them. She drove out of town humming.

Now that she’d given Warren the verbal boot, she felt empowered. She would create a new life for herself and head in a kick-ass, new direction. Most importantly, her self-esteem had been renewed. She wasn’t sure why she felt uplifted because her situation remained dire, one paycheck away from broke. Still, it felt good to establish closure to her old life. She’d keep the
sweet zucchini-bread memories of Boston and let the bitter ones go.

Making
Amazing Lace
a success would be her next goal and challenge. Lingerie? Might work. Maybe she’d take Zoey up on her offer and they could get something going online.

And then, there was Zach. To her mind, he embodied forbidden passion, a fantasy affaire. She tried to shrug off thoughts of him, but he was hard to dismiss.

Siena took a deep breath and silently vowed to do the right thing with
Amazing Lace.
Whether that meant to sell it or turn it into something that would make Aunt Addie – and herself – proud, time would tell. She needed that ever-lovin’ passion Goldie talked about. Did financial desperation count as passion? If so, she was there.

If she were truly honest, Zach was probably the deep-down reason she wanted to return to Haven’s Point. She savored his kisses, all warm and wet and luscious. She stopped at a red light and closed her eyes. She imagined swaying into his embrace, feeling the power of his arms around her, the tender touch of his lips on hers, the drum-pounding of her own heart against his. She arched her back, thrusting her breasts, opening her heart eagerly. Whether it was passion, love or plain old lust, she was ready for him.

She could feel his hands moving down her body, exploring, pressing her tightly to him. She thrilled as his hands followed her shape from breasts to waist to thighs. He knew just what to do, where to touch. And when his hand caressed her
there
, she gasped audibly and squeezed her knees together.

A loud horn blasted behind her.  The light was green. Siena switched on the radio and drove away from her old life.

 

Chapter Six

 

"Was it good for you?"

"What?"

"The sex we didn’t have, you jerk!"

Zach frowned. "What do you mean? We just  – "

She shook her head. "Hey, your body’s here, but not
you
. Where are you tonight, Zach? Where's your head?"

"Sorry, Monique.  I’m
. . . preoccupied, I guess."

"Hmm, I can tell."

"Look honey, I – "

"I’ll forgive everything, if you just tell me you love me." She folded her arms under bare breasts and glared at him.

He ran his hand over his face. "I do, of course."

"No, say it like you mean it. Look at me and say it. Like you want me more than anyone in the world. Like you see me in your future."

"What is this? What's going on with you? Of course I care for you," he said. There was a long minute of deadly silence. Deadly. In that minute, Zach knew that their relationship and maybe his future in Haven’s Point had died.

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