Conheartists Read online

  “Frannie!” Mabel’s—my grouchy employee, and oldest friend—voice echoes through the small storage room and I panic, dropping the book. I say oldest because she’s hitting seventy. “Put that smut book away and get back up here! We have customers!”

  “Oh, crudsicle.” I bend down to pick it up and sigh, knowing that I’ll have to wait to see what happens to the poor girl and her soon-to-be beaten lady business.

  I stuff the romance novel back into my satchel and make my way into the front of my shop. Up until a year ago, Corleone’s used to be my momma’s shop, but last year ovarian cancer swept through our lives like a hurricane and took her life. Now, I run it with the help of Mabel. Never in a million years would I have guessed at the age of twenty-two I’d be an owner of my own store, but I also wouldn’t have guessed I’d be a wallflower, living in a borough with a population of sixty-nine—not including animals—in a lonely house once filled with laughter when Momma was alive and pining over romance books and Hollywood gossip stories. But as Momma used to say, “we have our health and our brains. Be thankful and rejoice.” If I had a saying, it’d be “we have our Gucci dresses and Valentino pumps. Be thankful we’re so darn stunning, just like what the famous actresses wear in the tabloid magazines.”

  Instead, I brush off the crumbs of my peanut butter and jelly sandwich I just devoured from my worn flowered dress and get back to work. As usual, there are a few people wandering the store. I wave at Beatrice, Mabel’s twin sister and the one to blame for my addiction to reading inappropriate books. She’s in her usual section, right by the glass figurines.

  “Anything come in this week that fits your fancy there, Beatrice?” I walk around the register, stuffing my bag underneath the counter.

  “Oh, you know, I have my eye on this parrot thingy. Ain’t seen a parrot in ages.”

  Considering we live in Teterboro, a tiny crevice in the middle of nowhere, New Jersey, I can’t say she’s ever seen a parrot. We certainly don’t have them in this small, nonexistent spot on the map.

  I always wondered why we lived where we lived. Anytime I ever asked Momma why she chose Teterboro, her answer was always the same, “Bergen County is safe, practical, and not even a blip on a map. A perfect place to be forgotten.” Sometimes I wish we were a blip so we’d have just one ounce of excitement around here. I don’t want to be forgotten.

  “Well, that’s just fantastic, Bea. We’re running a special today, too. Buy two glass figurines, get ten percent off your next visit.”

  Her eyes widen with delight. Normally, our Thursday sale is five percent, but Mabel convinced me giving a little bit more off wouldn’t hurt and would help bring in more customers. Not that it matters since she’ll still ask for Mabel’s employee discount on top of the sale and get it for less than what I bought it for at cost.

  “I see a few new cat ones, too, on the other side. Let me know if you need assistance, okay?” I smile and grab my clipboard and start making my evening rounds around the antique shop.

  We seem to be running low on ceramic bowls. Write that down.

  Overstock on comic books. Take off order request.

  No one’s even glanced an eye at the miniature die-cast classic cars. Stop all future orders.

  Ding-a-ling.

  “Welcome to Corleone’s Trinkets and Treasures. Make me an offer I can’t refuse and it’s yours.” I pull my eyes away from my clipboard, while checking off another do not order item, to see Henry Weatherstone, our local barber, walking in.

  “Well, what a lovely surprise,” I chirp. “What brings you in today, Henry?” Not that I even need to ask. He’s had his eye on Beatrice since they were high school sweethearts fifty years ago. Beatrice, young and naive, gave in to her weak heart and married while Henry was off to war, breaking his. When he returned from Vietnam to find her married, he never recovered. He never married himself, and since Beatrice’s husband died some years ago, he’s been giving it his all to win her back.

  “Just lookin’ for something to keep me cozy at night, Frannie.” He peeks over at Bea. “You got anything that would soothe an old man’s heart?”

  I take a glance at Bea, who’s blushing like a schoolgirl, even though she’s hitting seventy.

  “Well, Henry. I did get some old romance novels in. A classic. Jane Austen.” I say it loud enough for Beatrice to hear, which does the trick, because I watch her ears perk from an aisle away.

  “Now wait,” Bea grumbles. “If you got any Jane Austens, those are mine. Henry over there don’t need none of those.”

  Henry laughs, knowing Beatrice and her love for books, and uses it as his opportunity to make conversation. “Well, well. Maybe I can lend it to you sometime. Or, you can come over tonight. I make an amazing meatloaf. We can read it together.”

  My heart warms at the two of them. I know Beatrice has it bad for Henry. She doesn’t come in Corleone’s twice a week, maybe three times, asking if we have any military plaques in because she is actually interested in them. She does it to impress Henry. To be honest, I’m not sure why they haven’t just come together already.

  “Oh, here we go. I know that look. What cheesy daydream you into now?”

  I turn to Mabel, her red lipstick gaudy, but looking fantastic on her. “And what possibly could I be doing?” I wink at Henry and scribble on my chart that our need for ceramic pigs is nonexistent.

  “Oh, you know! That look. The one you get when you’ve been readin’ them romance books. The saving. The matchmakin’. All that nonsense. My sister don’t need that. She needs a knock over the head.”

  “A knock? I’d think maybe she would need a push? They seem perfect together. A lifelong separation finally bringing them together.” I sigh happily.

  “Oh, dear baby Jesus, not this again. You’re so warped in those books you read. Leave my batshit crazy sister alone. What she needs is new batteries to her 1950s vibrator and to stop filling her head with nonsense books.”

  I laugh, brushing off Mabel’s refusal that her sister may have found happiness, worried she’ll ditch her and be all alone. “Whatever you say, Mabel,” I joke, just as Beatrice joins us.

  “Someone say my name?” Bea asks, holding the cat figurine.

  “Yeah, been telling Frannie here to stop falling for all those fairytale books you give her.”

  Beatrice’s eyes light up as she stares at me. “You start the outlaw one?”

  I’m embarrassed to admit I have, but the way my cheeks warm up, she knows.

  “Thatta girl. What part you on? He get all up in her yet?”

  “Beatrice!” I slap her shoulder.

  “Who’s getting up in what?” Henry walks up.

  “Nothing!” I yelp before Beatrice sells me out.

  “Gave Frannie a real smut book. The bad guy does a number on the girl’s—”

  “Heart!” I squeak out. “Such a romantic—”

  “I was going to say—”

  “That meatloaf sounds amazing. You going to accept Henry’s offer, Bea?” I blurt out, cutting her off. That shuts her up. Her face falls and that schoolgirl blush sets in.

  The sound of the door chime echoes throughout the shop and I look up to see Jude, our weekly delivery boy, picking up orders to ship and drop off. Mabel is still shaking her head at me as I greet him.

  “Hey there, Jude. Got anything good for me today?” I ask as he sets a few small boxes down.

  “No, but I do have a large order that came in for you, and this…” He hands me a rectangular package. “I saw it at a video shop a town over last weekend while visiting my girlfriend. Thought it could use a good home.”

  My brows go up, feeling the package. He nods for me to open it and I do. The cover to the VHS has me smiling instantly from ear to ear. “Is this…”

  “It’s one of his most recent videos. Well, at least the ones before they went to DVD.”

  I stare down at the tape, my heart doing a double flip at Richard. “Jude, this is… How much do I—”

 
“Don’t worry about it. Consider it a gift.” He smiles back at me. I can’t seem to hold in my excitement, and I throw my arms around him, hugging him tightly.

  “Thank you. I’m going to pop this in as soon as I get home.”

  “What you gonna pop in?” Beatrice comes out of nowhere, that mischievous smile taunting me.

  “Nothing, I was just saying—”

  “’Cause if you’re poppin’,” Bea suggests to Jude, “Frannie over here can use a good beatin’ in the—”

  “What we talkin’ about over here?” Henry pipes up.

  “Nothing!” I cry out. “Jude was just leaving and Beatrice was—”

  “Trying to get Jude over here to put his—”

  “Am I the only one workin’ here today?” Mabel steps in.

  I hurry and spin Jude, pushing him toward the exit before he gets more than he bargained for. I thank him for the video and with a light shove, he stumbles down the front step. I slam the door, throwing my back against it.

  “Well, that was rude. There was potential there,” Beatrice grumbles.

  “Bea, for starters,” I argue, “he has a girlfriend.”

  “Pfft. Means nothin’. He wants you. He brings you gifts every week. He wants to hit that.”

  “Bea!” I snap.

  Mabel shakes her head. “First off, this one would have to get her nose out of those books. Can’t do it with a book.”

  I cover my eyes with my hands.

  “Well, then she should do it with Jude,” Bea says. “I bet he has a big one.”

  Henry grumbles next to us. “Maybe it’s not the size that matters.”

  Oh heavens.

  “Maybe the girlfriend wants in too,” Bea says, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Fulfill that ménage fantasy of yours. You know, in that outlaw book he gets with—”

  “Wait, you have a ménage fantasy?” Mabel turns to me, asking.

  I shake my head. How did this get so out of hand? “No! It’s the book Bea gave me.”

  “Oh goodie, so you are reading it!” Bea cheers. “It’ll have you in a cold shower or finding anything and everything in your house that vibrates.”

  “Wow, everything?” Mabel chimes in with sudden interest.

  “You know there are men who would help do that if you wanted,” Henry grumbles.

  “That’s it! This conversation is over,” I snip at them. “I need to get back to work. Customers need help.”

  We all look around the empty shop, minus the four of us.

  Darn it.

  “Okay, well, I need to finish inventory and Jude said we got another huge order in.” I wave my hand around at the big shipment, which are two small boxes, and throw my hand down. Huffing, and still gripping onto my VHS, I start walking away when Beatrice grabs my attention.

  “Honey, he’s into you. Ask him out. Do something crazy for once. You can’t just live your life being cooped up in this shop, in this town. Your best friend is fifty years older than you and watching paint dry is more exciting than hangin’ out with her. This can’t be your entire life.”

  I turn around to see all three staring back at me. I want to ask them who died, since they all look so sullen, but I figure it out myself. My life. My social life, love life, anything life. It’s dormant. It might as well be dead.

  “Guys, I’m fine. I’m happy. I love the shop. I love you all. And I have Chandler. He keeps me company and warm at night.”

  “What, you plan on fulfilling that ménage with Chandler and Richard?” Beatrice asks and Mabel laughs, but catches herself and shoves her elbow into her sister’s arm. “Ouch, ya old hag! You might be older by a minute, but I’ll still drop kick your ass. I’m right. She needs to get out. Take an adventure. Enjoy life. Be spontaneous. Shit, she needs to get laid!”

  Three mouths drop. Mine being one of them. “Bea, my sex life is none of anyone’s business.”

  “Girl, fine, but have a sex life. You’re a twenty-two-year-old spinster. Ever since your momma died, you’ve been on auto drive. It’s like you just took over her life.”

  “That’s not true,” I argue.

  “Isn’t that your momma’s dress?”

  I look down. It is. “This was her favorite.”

  “Hers! Not yours. I get it. You miss her. We all do. But she would not want this for you. She wouldn’t want you to be alone. You’re still so sad all the time. We see it. Even Henry sees it!”

  I turn to Henry and with sad eyes, he nods. Traitor.

  “Listen, girl. Use that money your momma saved for you. Go take a cruise. Rent a car and drive to another state. Do something crazy. Just get out of here and stop spending every waking minute with us old people!”

  “Hey! Speak for yourself, I ain’t old,” Mabel snaps.

  “Sister, you’re old. No matter how red them lips are.” She swats her sister’s snarl away and turns her attention back on me. “I don’t give you those books for you to lose yourself in them. I do it so you’ll know what to do when you finally get yourself under a man.”

  I gasp at her vulgar words. “Bea!” I warn her.

  Henry turns to her. “What exactly do you learn from those books?”

  Another head shake. I can’t take any more.

  “Everyone. It’s time to go. Mabel, thanks for closing up the shop.”

  Mabel gives me the I wasn’t planning on closing the shop look, and I turn my attention to Henry. “Henry, Beatrice would love to have meatloaf with you and read together tonight. She’s a sucker for a good Manhattan, and naughty talkin’ is her favorite foreplay. With that note, I’m heading home.” I dismiss the shocked, yet angry eyes Beatrice beams at me, and I turn around, a smile creeping on my face. I feel a small victory for myself as I grab my bag and leave for home.

  The four blocks it takes me to walk home, my mind slips away to thoughts of Momma. Her death was sudden. She’d not been feeling well and finally after some pushing from us all, she went to the doctor. She was diagnosed with stage four ovarian cancer. The kind they can’t save. She died just shy of my twenty-first birthday. We had been saving up to take a trip. From all the large orders that came through the shop, Momma would save, and when I turned twenty-one, she promised to take me to New York since I’d been begging for as long as I could remember. I’d read all about the Big Apple and all the celebrities who lived there. Just a hop across the Hudson River. So close, yet so far away. I’d dreamed about walking through Manhattan, shopping and eating fancy food that wasn’t fried fish or tomato pie. But that never happened. She kept putting it off, promising a glamorous trip one day. Go big or go home. The trip would always be a silly dream. Her health took a turn so fast, we didn’t even have time to prepare.

  She died a month later.

  And at the young age of twenty-one, I was an orphan. My dad died when I was a baby. That’s how we ended up in Teterboro. When I was younger, I’d always grill her on stories, anything about my dad so I could feel as if I knew him. But the older I got, the more I sensed how sad it made her to talk about him. So, eventually, I stopped.

  After she died, I got ownership of the antique shop. Mabel had been working there since Momma bought it back in ’99 and never left. I was thankful since she knew the shop like the back of her hand.

  The comment Bea made about my clothing has me looking down and frowning. I’ve always loved this dress. My momma looked so beautiful in it. Her dark brown hair, lying to the middle of her back. Wearing it always made me feel closer to her. But now, glancing over the material, I just feel…feel… “Frumpy.”

  Darn it! Is Bea right?

  I rehash the last twenty-two years of my life and try to pick out the best parts of it. They’ve all been with my momma. She loved me so much, but now, it’s just me, my stupid romance books, and Chandler. Just the thought of him makes me smile. He’s been with me for four years, and I can honestly say he’s the love of my life. He’s sweet and gentle and caring. I couldn’t picture my life without him. Well, him and Richard. I laugh to
myself.

  I walk up my porch steps and stick the key in the door. Not that I ever need to lock it, since there hasn’t been a crime in this town in like ever. They’d have to find it on the map first.

  The second the bell I have wrapped around the doorknob jingles, Chandler is up and out of his chair, greeting me with the spunk and happiness of a pampered king.

  “Hey, my little man. Miss me today?”

  Chandler wags his tail, eagerly awaiting my arms. I bend down and scoop him up, letting him lick my entire face.

  “That’s a good boy. Has my baby been a good boy?”

  He yaps twice, telling me he has, and continues his lick fest.

  “That’s good. Lookie what I have. Mr. Jude gave us the best gift today,” I say and put Chandler on the ground, pulling out the VHS and showing the cover to the most precious black and white Chihuahua to ever walk this earth. His tail wags faster and he yaps three times, letting me know he’s just as excited to watch.

  “I know. Dinner first, though, okay? Then we can watch the tape. Richard doesn’t want us to have an empty stomach when he works us.” I pat his back and he follows me into the kitchen. I open my freezer and get that excited feeling when I take in my fully stocked freezer. I read once in a tabloid magazine that the newest crave was microwave healthy meals. They didn’t sell them at our local grocer, but when I told Jude about what I’d learned, he told me I could order them online. And lo and behold, I could.

  Thankfully, he wasn’t in a hurry that day and came back to the office and helped me order. Lean Cuisines. They came in so many different flavors and meals, I was beside myself. I was going to eat just like the celebrities did. When they finally arrived, I panicked realizing I didn’t have a large enough freezer for them all. Thank God Mabel offered to store the rest in her basement freezer.

  Tonight is mac and cheese night. My favorite. I pull the little container from the freezer and follow the directions. Tear corner seal, but I think it tastes better when you poke it in the middle instead, and then heat. Voila!

  While dinner cooks, I head back into my room and change into my workout leotard. It’s a used one from the thrift shop down the street, definitely from the eighties, but it fits, and I actually love it. Heading back into the living room, I can’t hold in my excitement as I tear the plastic from the VHS. “You’re a beauty,” I say to the box, shocked it’s never even been opened. I pop the tape into my recorder and the moment Richard appears, Chandler jumps onto the couch, ready and waiting.