Providence (8 page)

I must have found Baby Girl’s sweet spot in that crib, because on only her second night in it she managed to sleep through with only one moonlit feeding. I should have slept like a baby, too, but instead I tossed and turned in that bed trying to figure out our good fortune.

Just before closing time the day before, Rosie sent me to the market to fetch some catfish for dinner. As we walked back toward her house, so I could pick up Baby Girl’s and my belongings, Rosie asked, “Do you want me to fry up that catfish for us before or after you go to the library?”

I held my breath for a minute and tried to think before I spoke. I had found the nerve to look in that pay envelope earlier in the day and discovered it didn’t hold enough to cover rent anywhere. I had thought about asking Rosie if Baby Girl and I could stay in the back room of the store for a few days. But I was afraid if Rosie knew we were homeless, she would have second thoughts about being involved with us at all.

“You do like catfish, don’t you, Becky? I don’t like to brag, but if you don’t it’s only because you haven’t tried my catfish yet,” Rosie said.

I looked into Rosie’s eyes. I had been so busy trying to hide the truth from her all week that I had failed to see that she had already seen a big part of it. I gulped down a big helping of air trying to push back the sobs that were fighting their way out of me.

Rosie reached out and rubbed my arm. “If we’re going to be roommates, then we need to get to know these kinds of things about each other,” she said. “Now, let’s get home before this catfish cooks itself out in this heat.”

We walked down the street in silence until Rosie said, “You’re awfully quiet tonight. Are you tired? I must be working you too hard. A young girl with a baby needs as much rest as she can get. You turn in early tonight.”

I wanted to tell her the Second Hand Rose was the best job I ever had. I wanted to tell her that she wasn’t working me too hard and that she was treating me better than anyone else had in my whole life. But I was afraid if I said anything, I would burst into tears and hug her tighter than an old woman wants to be held.

When I crawled into bed that night, I stared at the ceiling for hours trying to understand Rosie’s kindness. I tossed and turned as I heard Daddy’s voice in my head. “Becky, even a snake oil salesman wears a smile, but only a fool would be taken in by it. A smart girl knows better than to trust anyone.”

But Daddy didn’t know Rosie. He didn’t know people like her walked on this earth along with the snake oil salesmen. He didn’t know there were people who in an instant could make you feel like their home was your home. I thought about the knowing look I had seen in Rosie’s eyes. I went to sleep and left thoughts of Daddy behind.

The next morning, I cradled Baby Girl in the crook of my arm while Rosie and I ate breakfast. “How did our little princess sleep last night?” Rosie asked.

I looked down into Baby Girl’s sweet face and answered, “Like a baby—meaning for no more than three hours at a time.”

“You must be exhausted,” Rosie said. “Do you need some time off from work?”

“No, ma’am,” I answered. “I’m fine.” The truth is, I was fine. Waking up knowing we would have a roof over our heads that night was a weight off my shoulders. It left me with an energy I’d been missing for days.

When we got to the store that morning, I put that energy to good use and got to work on that front window display. I wanted to fill in the empty spots from yesterday’s customer. I found a huge supply of ribbon in the second box of decorations and discovered even a gray steel pail looks holiday-ish when it’s wearing a bow.

I stepped out onto the sidewalk to get a passerby’s view of the window. As I was admiring my handiwork, some movement across the block grabbed my attention. It was the bicycle man from yesterday. He was lining bikes up on the walk in front of his store. The bikes had red, white, and blue ribbons woven between the wheel spokes and floating from the handle bars. I was trying to decide whether I should feel mad or flattered when Rosie came out.

“Well, will you look at that,” she said. “It looks like your work is so good that it’s inspiring others. Wait here.”

Rosie hurried back into the store. She came out carrying more of the fabric I had draped across the front of the Second Hand Rose. “I’ll stay here with Georgia. Why don’t you run this down to Pete?”

By lunchtime, the Better Than New Bike Shop was giving the Second Hand Rose some competition in the looks department.

Baby Girl had settled in for her nap and Rosie looked like she was just about to settle into one, too. I decided it might be best if I busied myself in the front of the store where I could keep an eye on the sleeping beauties. I had found some embroidery floss in the back and had a great idea for how to put it to good use. Last week, when Rosie had unpacked those cartons, she’d found two dozen brand new white bibs.

“Will you look at this,” she’d said. “Why would anyone want twenty-four of the exact same things?”

Now I decided the floss could best be used by stitching a tiny flag on one of the bibs. As I was finishing, our second customer of the week walked in. The screen door clapping shut woke both sleepers from their naps. “What can we get for you today?” Rosie smiled.

The young woman stood by the door looking like she wasn’t sure she wanted to come in any further. I put down the bib and picked up Baby Girl to stop her fussing.

“What a beautiful baby,” the lady said, braving a few steps in our direction. “How old is she?”

“She’s brand new,” I answered, “only a couple of weeks old.”

Rosie passed her hand over the pile of bibs. “Do you have a little one at home?”

“Not yet,” the woman smiled. “I have a baby niece though. She’s coming up with the whole family for the long weekend. They want to have an old-fashioned family picnic, complete with the Main Street Fourth of July parade.”

“No better way to spend a holiday weekend.” Rosie was on her feet now. “How can we help you with all your party preparations?”

“I noticed the flags in your window. Are they for sale?”

“Sure are. How many do you need?”

“About twenty of them.”

“And would you like Becky to arrange them in a container, so that you have a centerpiece for your picnic table?”

“Oh, I like that idea.” The lady took a few more steps in my direction.

Rosie smiled. “You’ll probably want a few extras, then, so your table doesn’t look bare after your guests take a flag for the parade.”

“Absolutely.” The lady’s hand was already in her purse. “When will it be ready?”

Rosie turned to me. “Becky, you can get that done in the next hour or so, can’t you?”

“I’ll get right on it.” I said. Before Baby Girl and I got halfway down one of the aisles in search of another container, Rosie called me back.

“Becky, I know you normally only do this by special order, but I saw the light in this nice lady’s eyes when she talked about her baby niece. Do you think you could make an exception to your rule this one time and do one of your special bibs for this lady today?”

I tried to look like I was concentrating real hard. “Rules are made to be broken.” I smiled at the lady.

“Of course, here I am creating more work for you, and I don’t even know if this nice lady wants to include the little one in the family celebration. She may not even be interested in a personalized flag bib.”

“Oh, yes.” The lady reached out for Rosie’s arm. “I do want the bib.” She turned to look at me. “Her name is Jenny, that’s J-e-n-n-y. Could you have it ready later this afternoon, too?”

“I’ll get to work on your order right now,” I answered.

That turned out to be the start of a busy afternoon. We had three more customers that day, but I made sure that when the lady came back her bib and centerpiece were ready and waiting for her.

At closing, I took the time to fill in the open spots in the window display. “You keep that window looking pretty,” Rosie said. “This store hasn’t had this many customers in years. Business is booming, thanks to you.”

I was proud of my work, but I knew it wasn’t just me. My displays were drawing people into the store but once they got inside, it was all Rosie. That woman could sell shampoo to a bald man. “It’s not me, Rosie. It’s us. We make a great team.”

“That we do, Becky. That we do.”

CHAPTER 11

The next morning we weren’t in the store but a few minutes when Dottie sashayed through the doorway. She announced her arrival by letting loose her grip on the door, allowing it to slam shut and bounce against the jamb. Not wanting to open myself to more questions, I busied myself in one of the aisles. Rosie and Dottie kept their heads together for quite some time before digging into the decoration boxes. Dottie walked out with an armload of supplies without stopping at the register. “Don’t forget,” she called over her shoulder. “You come over right after the parade.”

“We’ll be there!” Rosie said.

Before I got a chance to ask where ‘there’ was, a woman came in carrying a baby in one of those portable seats. She lifted the contraption onto the counter. “Is Becky in today?”

Rosie glanced in my direction. “I’m Rosie. Can I help you?”

“My neighbor told me she bought a bib here yesterday. She said that a girl named Becky does them exclusively for your customers. I want to order a set for my Haley.”

I took her order for six bibs, each with a different design. She didn’t ask about the cost and didn’t seem at all concerned about having to wait a couple of days for them. “They will be one-of-a-kinds?” she asked. “My neighbor said that each one was unique.”

I could honestly answer, “I’ve never sold the same design twice.”

Rosie took advantage of the time it took me to write up the order by selling the woman a one-of-a-kind birdbath. Once Rosie mentioned that little Haley looked so smart that she probably would be naming all of the local birds by her first birthday, if only those birds had a reason to visit her yard, I knew to slow down my writing. I carried the “birdbath” out to her car.

As I stood there, squinting into the sunlight while the silver car glided down the street, Dottie yelled over, “It’s looking pretty good, don’t you think? I know it’s not as pretty as yours, but I did a fair job, didn’t I?”

I looked over at the Tick Tock Diner. Dottie had stretched the red, white, and blue cloth across the front of the diner in an uneven pattern of loops. She must have run shy of fabric by the end, because the last couple of feet were stretched straight across. “It looks real patriotic,” I said.

This must have been enough of a compliment for Dottie, because she sent a big wave and a smile my way and went back to tugging on her loops. I went back into the store and started sorting through my short supply of floss. “I might need a couple of other colors to fill that order,” I said. “Do you know if there might be more around here?”

Rosie shook her head. “I dug that stuff out of a sweater pocket. I remember that it ruffled my feathers to think that people don’t even clean out their pockets before passing things on. I was going to toss it away, but I changed my mind. I must have been having a vision of what was to come.”

Rosie got a look on her face like she was having a vision right then and there. She turned on her heels and hurried over to the register. She reached into the cash drawer and handed me ten dollars. “Becky, you go on down the block to the Needles and Notions shop. You buy those threads in every color of the rainbow and anything else you might need, too. And tell Lydie that we’ll be giving her a lot of business. The way word of your work is getting around, you’ll need fresh supplies on a regular basis!”

Rosie sat back down in her chair. She looked tuckered out from the excitement of the floss, so I decided to take Baby Girl with me on my shopping spree. I was surprised to see Sarah walking out of the Needles and Notions shop. “Hi Becky!” she said. “I loved that book. Thanks so much for the recommendation.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” I said. “Do you do needlework, too?”

“No,” she laughed. “My mother decided today would be a ‘girls day out.’ My little brother is away at camp for the week. We’re going to do our regular mother/daughter stuff, you know—hair, nails, and shoe shopping later, but Mom got this great idea that I should learn something that she enjoyed doing when she was my age. I’m sure it will end up in hibernation in the storage closet with the rest of her arts and craft projects, but whatever. I’ll give it a try.”

The door to the store opened and a woman walked out. “I’m sorry that took so long, Sarah. It gave me time to come up with another idea, though. Let’s go to the library now and you can show me a few of your favorite books. I’ll check them out, read them, and we can have our own little mother/daughter book club to discuss them.” The woman caught her breath and looked at me as if she just noticed me standing there.

Sarah said, “Mom, this is Becky. Becky, this is my mom, Mrs. Hanson.”

“Hello, Mrs. Hanson. It’s very nice to meet you,” I said.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Becky. I always enjoy meeting Sarah’s friends. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at school.”

Before I can answer, Sarah says, “Becky is new in town, Mom. You wouldn’t have seen her at school.”