If Tears Were Pennies
Chapter One
Amelia Bennett dashed into the office of Bennett’s Market, the grocery store owned by her family since forever. “I have to run.” She pulled leggings off from under her skirt and exchanged flat shoes for the cutest sandals ever.
“Where are you headed?” Nicole, favourite and only sibling, stared at the computer screen, a crease between her brows. Amelia warned her frequently that frowns created wrinkles.
“The planning meeting, which better not last forever because I have an appointment with a client.” Amelia fanned her face. The aforementioned dashing in the late summer heat had raised a layer of sweat across her brow. The store’s air conditioning wasn’t helping. If her makeup was ruined, she’d never make the meeting. Twenty minutes until start time, the meeting room was a four-minute drive away, leaving a sixteen-minute cushion. Not enough when she drove with more care than some people thought necessary. Some people had no idea what they were talking about.
“Why did you volunteer for the Oktoberfest thing when you don’t have time to breathe?”
A slight exaggeration but defending her life choices would take too long. She needed to stay busy for an array of reasons, the most important of which was her own roof over her head. “Krista caught me at a weak moment.”
Nicole grinned in an annoying, older sister way. “I told you, you’re wasting too much time at the craft shop.”
“First of all, that’s an oxymoron ... I think.” Krista’s Crafts was her second favourite store in MacLeod’s Cove. Shelves and shelves were crammed with notebooks, scrapbooking supplies, and her favourite pens. Not to mention the fun planner do-dads like decorative tape and stickers. The store was a slice of dangerous heaven.
“And the second thing?” Nicole tapped the keyboard. Her ability to multi-task amazed Amelia. If she tried carrying on a conversation while typing, she’d end up with two garbled messes.
“The second what?” Amelia lifted a foot to study her sandal. Yes, they were from one of the famous shoe designers. And yes, she’d bought them for a tenth of the retail price. But neither would do her any good if she was lame by the end of the day. She could deal with a smidgen of pain but at the first hint of a blister, they’d be in the charity bin.
“You said first of all, which led me to believe there’s a follow-up point. Never mind. When you have a moment—”
“What?” Amelia tapped the toe she’d eased through the doorway into the grocery store she helped run with Nicole and her husband.
“Have you decided about the space upstairs?” Nicole reclined in her chair, her cute little baby bump now visible. She’d be shopping for maternity clothes soon. Amelia couldn’t wait to inject modern style into her sister’s wardrobe.
The space upstairs. Dusty, dark, and dismal. She had the brilliant idea to convert the largest room to an area for cooking demonstrations or small parties, but her graphic design business had picked up, and she lost interest. Plus, given the state of the store’s finances, climbing out of the red after years of Dad’s lackadaisical management, a lot of the grunt work would fall under the DIY category. She didn’t mind running the vacuum around but drew the line at … well … anything involving a hammer or a screwdriver. Her manicure would never survive.
Granted, working appliances and new kitchen flooring had been installed when Nicole and Ross crashed there for a couple months before and after their wedding, but the windows faced north. Dreary.
Amelia inched through the doorway. She’d be late by other people’s standards if she didn’t leave within the next ten seconds. “I like the idea of the demo area, but I’d also like to use part of the space for my office.”
“Great idea.” Nicole hit a key several times. “I don’t have the patience for this.”
“Bad day?” Resigned to acting the sympathetic sister for a few seconds, Amelia leaned against the doorframe.
“Lack of sleep is catching up with me.” Nicole punctuated the sentence with a huge yawn. “Women’s bodies are not well designed. Putting the bladder next to an expanding uterus was poor planning.”
Amelia laughed, not having had that particular pleasure. Almost, though. “The problem passes, right?”
“Thank goodness. In the meantime, I need to pee every couple hours round the clock.”
“Good practice for all those late-night feedings.” Amelia was thrilled for her big sister. A handsome husband, a job she enjoyed, and a baby on the way. Moments of envy were few and far between. Not non-existent, she wasn’t a fairy princess. Besides, she had her own dreams.
Nicole’s face got soft and wistful. “It’ll be worth it.”
Officially late, but ... “Returning to the upstairs discussion, I think we’re running a mouse hotel.”
Nicole shuddered. “We heard the buggers scampering around in the walls when we lived there over the winter. Ross set traps, but we only caught two mice. Smart little vermin.”
“Should I call an exterminator?”
“We use Critter-B-Gone for the store.”
Amelia pulled her newest planner binder from her bag and opened it to the section of notepaper. But not before stroking the ivory-coloured leather, embossed with her initials in rose gold.
A planned life was a happy life. No surprises, and no vast, aimless, empty hours. Plus, if she appeared to be busy, everybody would assume she was successful and happy. And appearances were everything.
She noted the exterminator’s name and then placed one of the ‘llama wearing sunglasses’ stickers next to the note. She slipped the planner into her bag. “Now I have to dash.”
“Good luck. Hope there isn’t too much of a mess.”
As Amelia headed toward the store’s front exit, she, too, hoped there was no mess. The original Oktoberfest committee had run into difficulties. One health crisis, one injured husband, and one better job in the city, hence the need for new suckers … volunteers … only two months before the event. She pushed through the door and cringed, skin prickling with sweat from the hot, humid air of the first day of August in Nova Scotia. At least the ocean breeze kept the temperature bearable.
To say the car interior was an oven was an understatement, but she didn’t have time to let the AC run. She cranked the engine. “Come on, Pumpkin, don’t fail me now.” She breathed a sigh of relief when the sputtering settled into a smoother grumble, angled the vents to hit her face, and checked her reflection in the visor mirror. Satisfied with her near-perfect appearance, she headed toward Town Hall.
Amelia Bennett dashed into the office of Bennett’s Market, the grocery store owned by her family since forever. “I have to run.” She pulled leggings off from under her skirt and exchanged flat shoes for the cutest sandals ever.
“Where are you headed?” Nicole, favourite and only sibling, stared at the computer screen, a crease between her brows. Amelia warned her frequently that frowns created wrinkles.
“The planning meeting, which better not last forever because I have an appointment with a client.” Amelia fanned her face. The aforementioned dashing in the late summer heat had raised a layer of sweat across her brow. The store’s air conditioning wasn’t helping. If her makeup was ruined, she’d never make the meeting. Twenty minutes until start time, the meeting room was a four-minute drive away, leaving a sixteen-minute cushion. Not enough when she drove with more care than some people thought necessary. Some people had no idea what they were talking about.
“Why did you volunteer for the Oktoberfest thing when you don’t have time to breathe?”
A slight exaggeration but defending her life choices would take too long. She needed to stay busy for an array of reasons, the most important of which was her own roof over her head. “Krista caught me at a weak moment.”
Nicole grinned in an annoying, older sister way. “I told you, you’re wasting too much time at the craft shop.”
“First of all, that’s an oxymoron ... I think.” Krista’s Crafts was her second favourite store in MacLeod’s Cove. Shelves and shelves were crammed with notebooks, scrapbooking supplies, and her favourite pens. Not to mention the fun planner do-dads like decorative tape and stickers. The store was a slice of dangerous heaven.
“And the second thing?” Nicole tapped the keyboard. Her ability to multi-task amazed Amelia. If she tried carrying on a conversation while typing, she’d end up with two garbled messes.
“The second what?” Amelia lifted a foot to study her sandal. Yes, they were from one of the famous shoe designers. And yes, she’d bought them for a tenth of the retail price. But neither would do her any good if she was lame by the end of the day. She could deal with a smidgen of pain but at the first hint of a blister, they’d be in the charity bin.
“You said first of all, which led me to believe there’s a follow-up point. Never mind. When you have a moment—”
“What?” Amelia tapped the toe she’d eased through the doorway into the grocery store she helped run with Nicole and her husband.
“Have you decided about the space upstairs?” Nicole reclined in her chair, her cute little baby bump now visible. She’d be shopping for maternity clothes soon. Amelia couldn’t wait to inject modern style into her sister’s wardrobe.
The space upstairs. Dusty, dark, and dismal. She had the brilliant idea to convert the largest room to an area for cooking demonstrations or small parties, but her graphic design business had picked up, and she lost interest. Plus, given the state of the store’s finances, climbing out of the red after years of Dad’s lackadaisical management, a lot of the grunt work would fall under the DIY category. She didn’t mind running the vacuum around but drew the line at … well … anything involving a hammer or a screwdriver. Her manicure would never survive.
Granted, working appliances and new kitchen flooring had been installed when Nicole and Ross crashed there for a couple months before and after their wedding, but the windows faced north. Dreary.
Amelia inched through the doorway. She’d be late by other people’s standards if she didn’t leave within the next ten seconds. “I like the idea of the demo area, but I’d also like to use part of the space for my office.”
“Great idea.” Nicole hit a key several times. “I don’t have the patience for this.”
“Bad day?” Resigned to acting the sympathetic sister for a few seconds, Amelia leaned against the doorframe.
“Lack of sleep is catching up with me.” Nicole punctuated the sentence with a huge yawn. “Women’s bodies are not well designed. Putting the bladder next to an expanding uterus was poor planning.”
Amelia laughed, not having had that particular pleasure. Almost, though. “The problem passes, right?”
“Thank goodness. In the meantime, I need to pee every couple hours round the clock.”
“Good practice for all those late-night feedings.” Amelia was thrilled for her big sister. A handsome husband, a job she enjoyed, and a baby on the way. Moments of envy were few and far between. Not non-existent, she wasn’t a fairy princess. Besides, she had her own dreams.
Nicole’s face got soft and wistful. “It’ll be worth it.”
Officially late, but ... “Returning to the upstairs discussion, I think we’re running a mouse hotel.”
Nicole shuddered. “We heard the buggers scampering around in the walls when we lived there over the winter. Ross set traps, but we only caught two mice. Smart little vermin.”
“Should I call an exterminator?”
“We use Critter-B-Gone for the store.”
Amelia pulled her newest planner binder from her bag and opened it to the section of notepaper. But not before stroking the ivory-coloured leather, embossed with her initials in rose gold.
A planned life was a happy life. No surprises, and no vast, aimless, empty hours. Plus, if she appeared to be busy, everybody would assume she was successful and happy. And appearances were everything.
She noted the exterminator’s name and then placed one of the ‘llama wearing sunglasses’ stickers next to the note. She slipped the planner into her bag. “Now I have to dash.”
“Good luck. Hope there isn’t too much of a mess.”
As Amelia headed toward the store’s front exit, she, too, hoped there was no mess. The original Oktoberfest committee had run into difficulties. One health crisis, one injured husband, and one better job in the city, hence the need for new suckers … volunteers … only two months before the event. She pushed through the door and cringed, skin prickling with sweat from the hot, humid air of the first day of August in Nova Scotia. At least the ocean breeze kept the temperature bearable.
To say the car interior was an oven was an understatement, but she didn’t have time to let the AC run. She cranked the engine. “Come on, Pumpkin, don’t fail me now.” She breathed a sigh of relief when the sputtering settled into a smoother grumble, angled the vents to hit her face, and checked her reflection in the visor mirror. Satisfied with her near-perfect appearance, she headed toward Town Hall.