How (Not) to Fall in Love (3 page)

He inclined his head toward the faded brick storefront. “Here it is.”

I took a deep breath, feeling like I was about to meet a magic wizard who held all the answers to my questions about my dad. But then I remembered Dorothy in
The Wizard of Oz
, and reminded myself there was no such thing as real wizards.

Chapter Five

T
he Second Hand Story was flanked by a vacuum and sewing machine repair shop and a tattoo parlor called Inkheart. This part of town was cool in a shabby, retro kind of way.

The store’s large window faced the sidewalk. Someone had put up a crazy display of toy animals frolicking under a fake tree. A stuffed squirrel had a Frisbee glued to its paw while a fuzzy rabbit flew a kite suspended from the ceiling.

I glanced at Lucas and pointed to the display. “Is this what you meant by ‘the full effect’?”

He nodded, watching me warily. Did he think I’d make fun of the display?

“It’s great,” I said, meaning it. “Did Charlie do this?”

“I did.”

“Really? I thought you were the repair guy.” I forced myself to maintain eye contact with him, drawing on the very small amount of “Tri Ty” DNA I’d inherited.

His lips quirked. “Among other things.” He reached for the door and opened it, and I jumped again, this time because of the goofy Halloween “bwahahah” laugh that sounded, the kind that people rigged up on their front porches to scare little kids.

Lucas laughed as he propped open the door with his body. “No ghosts, I promise. It’s just Charlie’s way of announcing customers. You can go inside.”

Toby dragged me into the store, excited to meet new people to fall in love with.

You can do this,
I told myself.
Just breathe.

I looked around, but didn’t see anyone. Then curtains sectioning off a far corner of the store parted and my uncle walked out. He paused before grinning and exclaiming, “Darcy! I’m so glad you came.”

He still had the long ponytail and scruffy beard. In his old Beatles T-shirt and jeans he looked exactly as I’d imagined him.

“Hi. So wow, you recognize me?” Duh. Who else would Lucas have brought here? I winced at my awkwardness.

Charlie chuckled, then stepped close to hug me. I held the hatbox in one arm while hugging him with the other, Toby forcing himself into the middle of our family reunion. My uncle still smelled like coffee and cinnamon.

“Of course I recognize you,” Charlie said, after we hugged. “You’re my favorite niece.”

“And your only one,” I muttered.

He grinned and looked down at Toby. “Toby. How delightful to make your acquaintance again.” He smiled at me. “Last time I saw him he was a puppy.”

A little late I asked, “Is it okay if he comes in your store?”

Charlie nodded. “My store, my rules. So yes.”

He glanced at the hatbox. “You still have it. Amazing. How about the pepper shakers?”

I nodded. “I have all of them.”

His brown eyes, so much like my dad’s, widened in delight. “You do? I’m thrilled. I was afraid your dad…” He stopped, watching me with questioning concern.

“It’s okay,” I mumbled.

Charlie motioned me toward a long Formica counter lined with turquoise vinyl barstools that made me think of a 1950s diner. As I perched on a stool, I glanced at the large mirror behind the counter. It reflected shelves overflowing with old appliances, glasses and dishes, ancient radios and TV sets, and wicker baskets overflowing with toys. Two of the walls were covered in murals. The images were from all around Colorado: the zoo, Red Rocks Amphitheatre, and the boathouse at City Park. The far wall was lined from floor to ceiling with more shelves.

“Oh,” I gasped. I slid off the stool and hurried to one display.

I’d never seen so many salt and pepper shakers in my life. A sign on the bottom shelf caught my eye:
“Not for sale.”
I bent down for a closer look and my breath caught.

There were the mates to all of my pepper shakers at home. I recognized them from my birthday cards: the yellow Labrador lying on his back, the angel kissing air, Wilma Flintstone, a blue Siamese cat looking down his snooty nose, a laughing lady chef and the rest of the mates to all seventeen of my pepper shakers.

“I always knew you’d show up some day,” Charlie said softly. He’d sidled up to me so quietly I hadn’t heard him. I rose to face him, speechless.

Who was this amazing guy? And why had Dad banished him from our lives?

Charlie grinned. “Coffee? Donut?” He put an arm around my shoulder and steered me back to the counter where I was grateful to sit because my shaking legs might not hold me up. Toby had finally stopped stalking Lucas and curled up on a rug like he lived here.

Charlie lifted the lid off a round glass pastry dish piled high with donuts. A hand-lettered sign said,
“Donuts: 50¢ each or free if you tell me a good story.”

His eyes were kind. “Have as many as you want.”

“I’m going to Liz’s,” Lucas said, shoving off from the counter where he’d been leaning, watching us. “You want anything?”

Charlie shook his head then glanced at me. “I have plain old coffee but Liz makes the good stuff. Do you want a mocha? Tea?” He flashed an apologetic smile. “I don’t even know if you’re a coffee or a tea person.”

It was a small thing, but seeing the flash of regret in my uncle’s eyes threatened to break my heart. I swallowed over the lump in my throat. “Nothing right now,” I said.

Charlie glanced at Lucas. “Take your time. Darcy and I have a lot of catching up to do.”

Lucas nodded, shooting me another curious glance before he left, setting off the Halloween laugh when he opened the door.

“Now, have a donut. I insist.”

I hesitated, then pointed to one with pink icing and sprinkles, my favorite. “I’ll take that one.” I looked at him shyly. “Do I really have to tell you a story?”

He slid the donut toward me on a paper napkin. “I have a feeling you’ll be telling me plenty of them now that we’re getting reacquainted. I’ll put this one on your story tab.”

“So you give people free food if they tell you a story? For real?”

He nodded, leaning against the counter. “It’s a tradition. The first owner of this place did the same thing. Thus the name.”

The Second Hand Story.

I took a huge bite of donut to give me an excuse not to talk. What could I say?
Wow, you are not what I expected at all. You are oddly cool in a hippie-ish sort of way. How can you and my OCD father possibly be related?

“You sure you don’t want coffee?” He refilled his NPR mug.

“Just water,” I slurred around my mouthful of donut.

He opened a small fridge and handed me a bottle, then gestured to the hatbox. “So what’s in there? Or was this your way of making sure I recognized you?” His eyes practically twinkled. How could my dad be so freaked out by this guy?

I swigged more water, stalling for time. I didn’t want money to be our first topic of conversation. It seemed rude, not to mention embarrassing. He wiped the counter with a rag, oozing patience.

“It’s just some…stuff. I thought maybe you might…” This was pathetic. I was pathetic.

His eyes held mine for a moment, and then he lifted the lid off the box.

“Ah,” he said, looking at the jewelry. He glanced up. Concerned? Judging? I couldn’t read his expression. “So you need some cash.” It was a statement, not a question.

I nodded, too mortified to speak.

He rubbed his scruffy beard. It looked good on him, no matter what Dad said. “Darcy, I wish I could help, but this isn’t exactly the kind of store you need right now.”

“It’s not why I’m here,” I said, relieved to find my voice. “I wanted to see you. But while I was waiting for my
driver
,” I forced a smile, “I remembered you work in a pawn shop, so I thought maybe…” I couldn’t finish.

My face flooded with heat. What was I doing? I had to get out of here. I grabbed the box from the counter and slid off the stool. Toby ran to the door, and then I remembered I didn’t have a car to whisk me away. Crap.

“Sit down, Darcy. Please.” Charlie’s voice was gentle but commanding. “I’m not letting you run away, not after waiting all these years to see you again.”

I took a breath, then resumed my seat on the spinning stool, embarrassed. Looking into his kind eyes, so much like my dad’s, I thought that maybe I didn’t want to leave.

“Sorry,” I said. “This is all just…a lot to take in.”

He nodded. “I can only imagine what you and your mom are going through.”

I bit my lip, unsure how much I should tell him.

“My car was repossessed.” I could tell him that much. Toby gave a long-suffering dog sigh and curled up on the rug again.

“Repo’d?” He looked stunned.

“Yeah. It was…pretty bad.” I took a deep breath and plowed on. “My mom talked to the bank, and if we come up with about six grand in a week I can get the car back.” I left out the part about catching up on old payments and making new ones. Mom said there was no way we could do it.

Charlie let out a low whistle. “That’s a lot of cash.” He looked genuinely sympathetic.

“Yeah.”

“What about your mom? Can’t she help?”

I shook my head. “She wants to but our accounts are frozen.” I shot him a quick look. He definitely knew what that meant and so did I, now. Frozen = no access to money = Mom getting a job.

Charlie sipped his coffee. “Maybe you should try a pawn store. Not a thrift store, which is what my store is.” The corners of his eyes crinkled just like Dad’s when he smiled at me.

“Oh. I didn’t realize…”

His grin spread like marshmallows melting in hot chocolate. “Do you know the difference?”

I should know the difference. I was a freaking honor student after all. But this wasn’t exactly my usual scene. “Not really,” I admitted.

“Thrift stores sell used things that are donated, usually, or stuff we buy really cheap. Pawn shops take your valuable items and loan you cash based on a percentage of the value.” He snorted. “A very small percentage, but still, it’s something.”

I frowned. “What do you mean ‘loan’? I just want to sell the stuff.”

“They buy things, too, so you could walk into a pawn shop right now and come out with cash. But if you do a loan, you could buy your jewelry back. Eventually.”

“I doubt I’d ever be able to come up with the money to buy my stuff back,” I muttered.

He sighed. “I wish I could help with your car.”

“It’s all right,” I said. “I’m getting used to the bus.” I hesitated. “And that’s not why I came here, to ask you for money. I really wanted to see you.” I glanced back toward the shelf of shakers. “And those are awesome. They look just like the ones you drew on my birthday cards.” I bit my lip. “I kept those, too.”

Some of the sadness left Charlie’s eyes, making my own heart lift. We sat in silence, taking each other in, until I heard a door slam somewhere in the back, and Lucas emerged from behind the curtains, like an actor ready for an encore. He had a to-go cup in each hand, and sat down right freaking next to me.

“Here.” He slid a cup toward me. “Liz insisted, when I told her Charlie’s niece was here.” He glanced at Charlie, grinning. “You’re lucky she’s busy over there or she’d have crashed your private party way before I did.”

Charlie laughed. “This is one day I’m glad she’s short-staffed.” He smiled at me. “I’ll introduce you to her, Darcy, but I’m not done talking to you yet.”

I held the cup to my nose and sniffed. “Hazelnut coffee?” I glanced at Lucas.

“Her call, not mine,” he said. “I would’ve guessed something more complicated for you. Lots of half-caf, low-fat, double sprinkles, stuff like that.”

His eyes sparked with laughter, but I wasn’t amused. “You think I’m high-maintenance?”

He lifted a shoulder. I narrowed my eyes. Just because he’d picked me up in my stupid country club house didn’t mean he could make assumptions.

“I would’ve ordered black coffee,” I lied. He didn’t need to know about my strawberries and creme Frappucino obsession. With double sprinkles.

Charlie pointed to his ancient coffee pot. “I have plenty of that.”

“Um.” I bit my lip and turned away from Lucas’s smirk. “I’m okay with water. And hazelnut.”

Lucas laughed next to me as Toby pinned him with his dog version of a Jedi mind-control stare, willing Lucas to pet him. Lucas caved instantly, leaning over to rub his ears, and then raised his eyes to mine.

“What are
you
drinking?” I asked accusingly.

“Cappuccino. Double shot. Extra dry.”

“And you called me high-maintenance?” I never sparred like this with guys, but Lucas pushed my buttons. And I had a feeling he enjoyed doing it.

He grinned and shrugged.

Charlie chuckled from the other side of the counter. “All right, you two, settle down.” He glanced at Lucas. “Darcy needs our help, Lucas.” His words surprised me, and Lucas, too, judging by the expression on his face.

Lucas spun his stool so he faced me. “Do you need something fixed?” He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. “I’m guessing you’re not here to shop for clothes.”

“Lucas.” Charlie’s “stern warning” voice sounded like every teacher I’ve ever known.

Lucas shrugged, a smile playing at his distracting lips. “I’m just sayin’…”

Just saying what? What did he know about me or my falling-apart life?

“Look,” I said, sighing in frustration, “whatever you think about me, I need some money and I need it fast. This is all I’ve got.” I lifted the lid off the hatbox and slid it toward him. “Can you help me?”

His eyes locked on mine briefly, no longer mocking, then he broke the connection to peer into the box. He whistled and glanced at me. “Nice bling. You sure you want to get rid of it?”

I stared at him, trying not to be distracted by his hypnotic eyes and smoky voice. “I don’t have much choice,” I said.

“Her car was repossessed,” Charlie said. “She needs to come up with a lot of money. Fast. What do you think, Lucas? eBay?”

Lucas stared at me, obviously shocked. “Repo’d?” He turned to Charlie and they exchanged a meaningful look. I wondered how much Charlie had told him about my AWOL dad.

“Yeah,” I said. “My dad is the loser on Letterman and my family is going broke and falling apart and I just want to get my car back.”

“Letterman?” Lucas frowned. So I’d found the one person in town who hadn’t seen it.

“Never mind,” I said, fiddling with my napkin.