Julia Pierce was home. Well, not home home, but her hometown: Kenota, New York. More specifically, her grandmother’s house, which would be home for the foreseeable future, since Meemaw had passed and her parents hadn’t sold it and she had nowhere else to go.
It was a strange thing, having nowhere else to go. Now that she’d landed herself in such a predicament, she could see how inadvisable it was. Even though the spectacular end of her marriage hadn’t been her doing, she’d allowed herself to become dependent and complacent. Just thinking about it turned her stomach.
She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. No time for wallowing. She had a U-Haul to unload.
She cut the engine of the truck and climbed down. She’d told her parents she would be arriving the next day, but found herself overwhelmed by the crushing need to escape the city. Well, that and the small fantasy of arriving without the welcome wagon waiting in the driveway. Her family meant well, but Christ, they could be a handful.
The key remained under the front mat just as it had when Meemaw was alive. Julia let herself in the front door, only to be stopped in her tracks by the smell of her childhood: baby powder, lilac, and vanilla. The combination shouldn’t work, but it was so achingly familiar she couldn’t decide whether to laugh or to cry.
“Julia Anne Pierce, you are not supposed to be here until tomorrow.”
Julia closed her eyes and prayed for calm before turning to face her sister. “I was afraid everyone would make a fuss.”
Caroline planted her hands on her hips. “Of course we’re making a fuss. You’re home.”
Being right proved a small consolation. “I wanted to get settled in and have it not be a big deal.”
Caroline’s angled head and look of exasperation matched her posture perfectly. “You can’t move back home and not have it be a big deal.”
“I know.” She did. She could also long for a moment of privacy and what remained of her dignity.
Caroline closed the distance between them and put a hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”
The thing about her family was that they welcomed her with open arms, always. She loved them for that. It didn’t make them less overwhelming, or their brand of good intentions any easier to digest, but she could appreciate it was more than a lot of people had. “I will be.”
With that, Caroline yanked her into a hug that made Julia feel all of twelve again. Back when Caroline was her fiercest defender. But also when Julia first learned needing a defender in the first place made her the lesser of the sisters, and not only because she was five years younger.
“You have to come to dinner tonight. The kids will be so excited to see you.”
She didn’t want to go to Caroline’s for a family dinner, but it would be casual and full of kid energy that would take the pressure off her. Better than sitting at her parents’ table and having their expectant faces staring at her the whole time. “If I can get everything unloaded, I will.”
“You are not going to unload this truck by yourself.”
Before Julia could argue, Caroline whipped out her phone and started texting furiously. Within minutes, Caroline’s husband and two of his buddies were en route to the house. She tried not to think about the state of the house, or the mismatched boxes and bags holding her relatively meager possessions. She tried not to think about being the woman in need of help or the woman coming home with her tail between her legs. She’d think about those things plenty, just not now.
For now, she had impromptu movers and no idea where to put anything. She said as much to Caroline, who was more than happy to take charge. They walked through the house, noting corners and rooms where her things could be stacked. Truth be told, it was a relief not to have to make any decisions.
A pickup pulled in behind her moving truck and three guys spilled out. One she recognized as Darren, Caroline’s husband. The other two were vaguely familiar, but she didn’t know them well. They didn’t ask about her sad tale or current situation. They swarmed the truck and had it completely empty in less than half an hour. How could she be anything but grateful?
Caroline insisted on following her to return the truck so she wouldn’t have to walk home. After that and securing her promise to come to dinner at six, Caroline offered her another hug and left her to her own devices. Julia stood in the driveway for a moment before returning to the house.
Much like the smell, everything in the house felt unchanged. Her family had done some cleaning and clearing after Meemaw’s death, but the essence of the house remained untouched. Julia wandered the rooms, trailing fingers along the back of the floral sofa and the polished banister leading up the stairs.
Some of the furniture had been claimed for sentimental or practical reasons, but the essentials remained. The Formica table in the kitchen, the hutch full of china and crystal. The sofa and coffee table and massive box television from the late nineties. The spare beds had found new homes with Caroline’s children, so only Meemaw’s room remained intact, complete with one of her handmade quilts.
It might have felt strange to be staying in the bedroom that had been her grandmother’s. Yet, she’d spent the last two weeks alone in the bed she’d shared with Erica for close to eight years while Erica was in Rome with her new girlfriend, aka her personal trainer. It turned out strange was relative.
Her mother had been by to clean, so there were fresh sheets and the space felt livable. She’d need to unpack and make some decisions, but that could wait a day or two. For the moment, she unpacked enough to shower and change for dinner at Caroline’s.
She lingered under the hot spray, driving away the stiffness of hours driving the truck, and gave herself a pep talk. She had a roof over her head, a job lined up, and a family who cared about her. She was lucky.
Even as she ran through all the things she had going for her, the less thrilling aspects of her situation loomed large. Her marriage was over. She had no meaningful career to support herself. She was back in her hometown after more than a decade in New York City because she literally had nowhere else to go.
All she wanted was a quiet place to lick her wounds and figure out what she was going to do with the rest of her life. Fly under the radar and make a little routine and mostly keep to herself. Ha. If today was anything to go on, and she had a feeling it was, keeping to herself was not going to be an option.
* * *
Taylor Winslow backed her truck up to the rear entrance of Finger Lakes Consignment. She let herself in the back door and called out a greeting for Loretta, the store owner and the very first person to put Taylor’s work in her shop.
“I’ll be with you in two shakes,” Loretta said.
“Take your time.” Instead of waiting, Taylor went back to her truck to grab some of the things she could carry on her own: a set of four kitchen chairs, a pair of end tables, and a rocker. She was just pulling the rocker out when Loretta emerged, complete with overalls, a flowy top over them, and gray hair held up with what appeared to be a pencil.
Loretta let out a low whistle. “That’s a beauty.”
Taylor grinned, unable to suppress her satisfaction at the compliment. She’d used a new technique to spin the rails of the back and base. The result managed to feel both modern and traditional, intricate without being fussy. “I’m pretty pleased with it.”
“Do I want to know how long it took? Or how much it’s going to cost?”
Although she did a lot of custom orders, the bulk of Taylor’s business came from consignment and wholesale. Loretta’s store, nestled in the heart of Finger Lakes wine country, was one of her primary outlets. They’d worked together long enough that she didn’t bristle at the question. “I’ll have you know it’s no more than a regular rocker.”
Loretta folded her arms. “Well, that’s just plain stupid.”
Taylor shrugged. Since she carved each piece by hand, tweaking how she turned things on the lathe didn’t add to the overall time of a project. Once she got the hang of it, of course. “You can charge more if you think it’ll sell, but I’m happy with the standard rate.”
Loretta tutted. “We’ll see.”
Not only was Loretta one of her most reliable customers, she was one of Taylor’s most supportive. It was Loretta who’d encouraged her to branch out, who never hesitated to put something in her shop and see how it would do. Between that and being a seventy-year-old spitfire, she was one of Taylor’s favorite people. “Yes, ma’am.”
They unloaded the kitchen table that went with the chairs and a small desk she’d managed to make adjustable. She saw no reason why someone who wanted to stand while working on their computer should have to do so on ugly particleboard. They carried everything inside, leaving a few pieces in the back and bringing the rest out to the main shop floor. “Looks like business is good,” Taylor said.
“I’m out of Adirondack chairs again.”
She didn’t bother trying to hide her groan. “Seriously?”
“I can’t seem to keep them in stock.”
She appreciated their popularity and their price point. They fell into the bread-and-butter category of her business—easy to turn out and quick sellers, if lacking in the inspiration department. “I’ll bring ten more.”
Loretta gave her a noisy kiss on the cheek. “You’re the best.”
“I know.” She chuckled. “Really, though, you’re my favorite customer. Anything to keep you happy.”
“Make it fifteen, then?”
Taylor rolled her eyes, but smiled. They played this game, but in truth, Loretta pushing her chairs meant even more money in her pocket than Loretta’s. Her grumbling was done in jest. “You got it, doll.”
Loretta went to her office to cut Taylor a check for the recent sales and Taylor poked around the store to see what new items Loretta had added to her inventory. The shop sold some furniture, but also clothes, jewelry, and knickknacks, vintage and new. “You know who’s coming back to town?” Loretta called.
Loretta’s shop sat right along the wine trail, but she lived in Kenota, the same town Taylor had spent her whole life in. She wasn’t much for the small-town gossip that came along with that, but Loretta lived for it. “Who’s that?”
“Julia Pierce.”
She’d not expected it to be someone she had any interest in or even knew. Hearing Julia’s name took her by surprise and, well, something else. Taylor accepted the check and made a point of keeping her tone light. “Is that so?”
Loretta nodded, needing minimal encouragement to keep going. “Divorced, or at least on her way there. Martha told me her wife ran off with some model. Or maybe it was her personal trainer. I’m not sure which.”
Taylor’s throat tightened. Not only was Julia coming home, but she was single. No one could read her thoughts, but she chastised herself anyway for where her mind went. If Julia, who’d left Kenota at nineteen and not looked back, was moving home, it meant her life was in shambles.
“What? My gossip too dull for you?”
“Huh? No, no. I was thinking about how long it’s been since I’ve seen her.” She wasn’t thinking at all about the colossal crush she’d had on Julia for pretty much the duration of high school.
“Were you close before she moved to the city?”
Ha. She wished. “Friendly, but not close. We graduated the same year.”
“Well, you should look her up. I’m sure she could use a few friends.”
Taylor made some vague reply about doing just that and excused herself, citing work. On the drive back to her workshop, she let her mind wander down memory lane. They’d played softball together, but Julia had been a graceful outfielder and Taylor the rough-and-tumble catcher. They’d been in a lot of classes together because their tiny school only had one honors section for most subjects.
After graduation, Taylor had gone for her associate’s in business, and Julia had headed off to Binghamton. She’d moved to the city only a couple of years later to be with her big city girlfriend. Other than a chance run-in one Christmas a few years prior, she hadn’t seen her since.
Not that any of it mattered. They hadn’t been tight then and it was unlikely they’d become so now. And given her apparent taste in women, there wasn’t a chance in hell Julia would be interested in some small-town furniture maker.
Still, Taylor couldn’t seem to turn her mind away from the Julia she remembered and thoughts of the woman Julia might be now.