Chapter 52: Chapter 52

The ticking of the clock registered in Memory’s head even over the Christmas music as it drew closer to 2:00. That’s when Ellie would be leaving, and even though she’d made Memory promise not to try to talk her into staying again, she wasn’t sure she could keep that promise.

They’d been busy most of the morning into the afternoon, which hadn’t given them much time to talk. Memory was dreading the moment her new friend had to say goodbye. Despite Ellie’s inability to commit to ever coming back or willingness to tell her exactly where she was going, Memory was hopeful they’d meet again soon.

The last customer from the latest rush walked out the door, bags in hand, and Memory turned her attention to the clock. She didn’t like what she saw.

“I’m sorry, dear.” Ellie came around the counter, already untying her apron. “But I have to go.”

“Ellie, couldn’t you just stay—”

“You promised,” the redhead reminded her, pulling Grandma Helen’s apron off and hanging it over her arm. “Listen, I don’t like goodbyes, dear, so I’m not going to say that. You’re going to be just fine, though. This is a new beginning for you—with Dak. The two of you are going to be happy together for decades to come, I just know it.”

Memory couldn’t help but beam at the thought, despite her sadness that Ellie was leaving. “I just... I’m going to miss you so much.” Tears sprang to her eyes, and she didn’t bother to fight them.

Ellie opened her arms and stepped forward. “I know, dear. I’ll miss you, too. But we’ll see each other again one day. I’m certain of it.” Ellie kissed her cheek and gave her one last squeeze. She patted Memory softly on the cheek, the way Grandma Helen used to do, and then stepped back. “You take care, dear.”

“You, too, Ellie. Call me when you get wherever you’re going tonight, okay? I’ll worry if you don’t.”

She pressed her lips together for a moment and then said, “I will if I can.” With another smile, she headed to the back to get her coat and bag and to put up her apron. Memory watched her go.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to avoid looking at the empty chair across the room, but it was there just the same, reminding her that she was about to be alone again.

But that wasn’t true—Dak would be with her. They’d talked for a long time the night before, about nothing and everything. He hadn’t said for sure that he was going to move to Christmas Falls, but he said he had a lot of work to do today, including a deal he needed to work out. Memory was hoping that meant he was going to buy the factory, but he hadn’t been specific, and she hadn’t wanted to pry.

Ellie was back, bundled up, her purse slung over her arm. “Memory, dear, did you ever end up reading that journal of your grandmother’s, the one with the cardinal on it? You mentioned it once before.”

Memory’s forehead puckered. She couldn’t recall ever having mentioned it to Ellie, but then, her memory failed her more often than her name would imply. “No, not yet. Why?”

“Just curious. I was thinking, your grandmother probably left some wisdom in there for you. I think I would have if I had been her.” She smiled confidently, and Memory found herself nodding.

“I wanted to read it, but then I thought it might be too hard. I will.” It might mention the life insurance policy, too, which would be a plus. Her phone vibrated in her pocket, but Memory ignored it, too busy focusing on Ellie before she left. “You be careful.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me, dear. I’ll be just fine.”

Memory rushed forward and wrapped her up one more time. “Thank you for everything, Ellie. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.” So many blessings had come into her life since Ellie had walked through that door. She’d sold more in the last two weeks than in the entire year before. She’d had time to revamp the website and get things going again, and the store was in great shape, thanks to Ellie’s organizing skills. Not to mention it had been Ellie who had brought her and Dak together. She had been a blessing to Memory’s entire family.

“Yes, you would have, dear. All I did was remind you that you are capable of anything you set your mind to. You did the rest.”

Memory took a deep breath and found a way to let Ellie go. “Call me.”

She nodded, and Memory remembered that she said she would if she could—whatever that meant. Memory wasn’t too worried about it, though. She had Ellie’s number. She could always call her if she didn’t get in touch soon. “Take care, Memory.”

Fighting tears, Memory covered her mouth with her hand and watched Ellie walk out the door, feeling as if she were losing her grandmother all over again.

The bell chimed, and Ellie was gone, leaving Memory all alone.

Thankful for a moment to herself, Memory went behind the counter and pulled out a tissue, wiping at her eyes. She waved her hands in front of her face, willing the tears to stay away. After a couple of minutes, she thought she had control over herself, repeating that she hadn’t just lost her grandmother again—Ellie was just a friend.

Remembering that her phone had been ringing, she pulled it out and saw she had a missed call from Dak. “Dang it,” she mumbled, wishing she’d had a chance to talk to him. She missed him already, even though she’d seen him earlier when he stopped by to pick up her key. Hopefully, he had good news about the roof. She clicked into her voicemail and listened to his message. Though she had no idea what he was talking about, he sure sounded excited, which made her laugh.

She raised her thumb to click the button to call him back when the bell chimed. Trying to hide her disappointment, Memory put her phone back into her pocket and said, “Merry Christmas, and welcome to The Memory Box,” before she realized the man walking through the door was somewhat familiar. It was that real estate developer, the one Dak had warned her about at the skating party. She couldn’t remember his name. “How can I help you?”

“Actually, it’s how I can help you.” A smarmy smile shifted his smile, and Memory noticed he was carrying a manila folder. She cocked her head to the side and stared at him, not sure what to say. “You’re Memory Wilson, right?”

“Yes.”

He offered his hand, and she looked at it skeptically before she reached over the counter and shook it. “Corbin Beardly. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She couldn’t say the same. Dropping her hand and fighting the urge to wipe it on her pants, she repeated, “How can I help you?” hoping he didn’t give the same answer as he had before.

“You own the property on West Thirty-Fourth Street, don’t you?”

“How do you....”

“You’re a friend of Dak Brook’s, right? I had a chat with Dak this morning. Heck of a guy. Anyway, it’s my understanding you own that big Victorian house. Doesn’t look to be in very good shape. I’d like to take it off of your hands for you, fix it up, turn it into something really nice.”

Memory felt a fire ignite inside of her gut as her eyes bulged out of her head. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. He had talked to Dak? About her grandma’s house? About her house? After what Dak had said about this guy, he had actually negotiated with him to make an offer on the house? No wonder he’d said she wouldn’t have to worry about fixing the roof anymore. Memory’s stomach ached, and she felt bile rising up in the back of her throat.

He was still talking, despite the fact that Memory was pretty sure her face had completely drained of all color and resembled the fake snow on the flocked faux trees on the shelf across from her. “I’m not exactly sure what we’ll do with it yet. Maybe a B and B. Or a private home. But you can rest assured this offer is more than generous, above market value. Of course, I haven’t been in the house myself, but I’ve got it on good authority that there’s work to be done in there as well. This will take all of that burden right off of your shoulders and give you plenty of money to... fix up your shop.” He looked around as if there was something in the store that needed fixing.

Looking down at the folder he was sticking out at her, Memory bit back her tears, not wanting him to see her cry. “You should leave, Mr. Beardly. Now.”

His thick, dark eyebrows arched. “Beg pardon?”

“Leave. And take your folder with you.”

“But... Ms. Wilson, I was under the impression you might be interested in selling. I know you need a new roof and you can’t afford it....”

“Get. Out. Of. My. Store.”

Beardly raised both hands in defense, the folder still in his grasp. “Okay, okay. I understand. I’ll go. But you keep this. Look it over, and give me a call after the first of the year.”

“Go.”

He dropped the folder onto the counter and backed to the door, not turning around until he was almost there, as if he thought Memory might lunge after him—which she might’ve if she hadn’t been a God-fearing woman.