Chapter 273

Audrey

The shop took shape slowly, day by day. Over the following weeks, I spent every morning, afternoon, and evening perfecting the space and preparing for the upcoming fashion show. It seemed that there was endless work to do, from setting up Gavin’s coffee shop to building plush chairs for people to sit in to filling racks with garments to be sold.

“Okay, lift it a bit higher–no, to the left… my left, Gavin.”

Gavin squinted up at the dark wood sign he was attempting to nail to the wall, one end barely clinging to the nail while he held the other in his hands. He huffed. “Audrey, we’ve been at this for hours. Are you sure it shouldn’t just go, like, here?” He gestured toward the opposite wall.

I rolled my eyes, biting back a laugh. “If you’re trying to make the place look completely lopsided, then sure, go for it.” “Fine,” he muttered, “but you’re lucky I’m putting in a free coffee bar. Most people would charge for the grueling labor.” “Ah, but what other coffee shop has free espresso and croissants for whoever needs it, right?” I teased, nudging him gently. “C’mon, Gav, I’ll order you your own big pizza when we’re finished with this.””

“Better have sausage and peppers on it,” he grumbled, although I could see a small smile tugging at the corners of my friend’s lips.

Truthfully, “Gavin’s Coffee Corner” was quickly turning into the heart of the shop. He’d taken over the design of the corner himself, with a small seating area coming together, complete with two leather armchairs and a refurbished side table that he’d insisted on rescuing from a thrift store.

It wasn’t enormous, but it was enough. I was just glad that any of my friends wanted a part in… well, any of this:

As Gavin hammered the last nail into the wall, Tina came through the door with her arms loaded with fabric samples and al handful of signs I’d hand–lettered the night before. I ran up to her and helped take some of the things off her hands, even though she tried to refuse.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about my idea for that LGBT counseling department,” she said, gesturing over to a raised platform area against the far wall. “I think it would be nice to set up some bean bag chairs and game areas over there. What do you

think?”

“Whatever you want, Tina,” I said with a grin. “That whole area over there can be yours if you want it.”

Tina looked thrilled. “Great,” she said, scurrying over to the counter and plopping down the bolts of fabric she was holding. “I’m gonna run to that yard sale down the road, then. I think I saw some used games and books that would be perfect.”

“You need cash?” I asked, reaching for the envelope containing my small savings–which I’d been using to furnish this place. But Tina shook her head, already out the door. “Nope. Your mom just paid me for cleaning her house, so I’m loaded!”

run down the street. “Loaded” to her likely meant a few hundred bucks, but if she was

she was still staying with Claudia, keeping her company and helping her around the estate. My mom certainly seemed less lonely with her around. And I think Tina

nagging at the back of my mind. It was the final piece of my collection for the fashion show; I needed something special, something

flat.

she entered with

3

a little beat up, but would look beautiful with a nice coat of paint. “I had it sitting around in

from her, kissing her on

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leaned it against the counter, my mother caught my eye and immediately noticed my perturbed

I admitted, pursing my lips. “I just… don’t know what to do. I need it to

mother frowned. “The velvet co–ord set

right on the mannequin. And it felt

left behind. “You could do a hybrid of materials, maybe? Silk and velvet. Or something edgy with lace.

But it wasn’t quite the spark I was

noticed my hesitation and placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it gently. “You’ll find it, Audrey. Just give it time. Maybe

the Italy trip in six months, and just wanting to get this charity off the ground, the fashion show was set to be held at the local

A month.

give me time to ‘focus on something else. But I

the shop, late nights at my sewing machine, all the while that final piece remaining unfinished. On more than one occasion, I would scrap a half–finished piece or angrily wad up a sketch and toss it across

evening, as Edwin and I sat on the floor of my new studio–slash–office upstairs from the shop, sorting through sketches

as always, so quiet I almost didn’t hear him coming. It was clear that the noise downstairs was bugging him; he had his drawing supplies in hand and looked like

scooching over to make some room. “Come

of his colored pencils. Edwin and I continued to work

drawing. He could spend entire days at

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