November Rains (A Year in Paradise Book 11) Read online

  “How long did it take for your business to really establish itself?”

  Frankie had to think about that. Life at the deli had been so monotonous for the past few years that it was difficult to remember the “before” time. Back when she, too, worried about the future of her business and whether it had been a fool’s dream to start something as crazy as a deli in small town Oregon.

  That first year hadn’t been easy, either. Unlike Z, she hadn’t enjoyed a blastoff opening. There were no raised expectations that came crashing down after the first week. I opened on Memorial Day weekend… Foolish Frankie had worked her ass off to get the deli opened two days before Memorial Day, in the hopes people would fall over themselves to get fresh meats for their barbecues. Instead, she discovered that most people had already bought their food at the local supermarket or the Wal-Mart forty miles away. Didn’t help that one of her contacts in the ranching industry fell through, and she didn’t have any grass-fed beef to sell. In a town like Paradise Valley, people were willing to pay for higher quality. Better if they had fooled themselves into thinking their meat was the most ethically sourced stuff in the world. I mean, I’m careful about who I get my supply from, but ain’t nobody or nothing perfect. The cows still died, after all.

  “It took about a year and a half before I stopped panicking. Lots of up and downs until then.” Frankie figured she better add on to that, lest Z panicked, too. “Lots of up and downs since. That’s the nature of owning a small business. I double-dip in also offering food for them to eat right there in my shop, but most of the money comes from what they buy to take home. It took me a while to figure out a decent enough balance.”

  Z didn’t immediately reply. While that wasn’t out of the ordinary, Frankie wondered if she had somehow struck a nerve. Would do me a whole lotta good if I scared off my best friend from the internet. She was old enough that the fact flummoxed her. This was a woman who hadn’t purchased a smart phone until three years ago, when her brother wanted to upgrade their plan and she discovered she could get a free phone as long as she had their plan. I wasn’t “online” until it became necessary for my business. Oh, Frankie had used the internet, of course, but it wasn’t until the high speeds came to Paradise Valley that she saw the sense in paying for it.

  Now she had a best friend. From the internet. Z was probably a closer friend than anybody in real life had ever been, which was both pathetic and amusing. I think we’ve established that I’m not big on socializing. Perhaps the internet had introduced the perfect solution to her friendship dilemma.

  “Sorry,” Z finally said. “I was having a good cry because of how stressed I am. Please tell me that’s normal.”

  “What, crying because you’re stressed? I hope so.”

  “I feel like such a big baby. A big, stupid baby. I should have known how hard this would actually be. I’m not sure I’ll be able to pay my employee if things continue this way.”

  “It’s been a week! Hey, it’s the weekend! I’m sure you’ll see a nice uptick this weekend. Don’t know where you are in the world, but the weather might have something to do with it? It’s always difficult to open a new business in the winter…”

  “It’s been raining here, but that’s pretty normal. Back where I’m from, it rains a lot, too.”

  They had never exchanged where the other person lived. Not even Z, who often came a little too close to divulging personal information. More than we ever agreed to. Yet Frankie had surmised that her friend lived in, or at least was from, the Midwest. Probably either Chicago or Detroit, based on some of the vernacular she often used. All Frankie knew otherwise was that Z had left her big city life for a small town, where she thought a new shop should go. Now she was learning the hard life lessons.

  “Do you have any advice for me at all?” Z asked.

  Frankie had to think about it for a moment. She didn’t want to jump right in with the solicited advice, after all. Okay, so maybe she did, but she didn’t want to look too eager to share her sage knowledge. Her mother taught her better than that.

  “No matter what,” Frankie finally said, “don’t let the customers get to you. Including their absence. You can’t let it cut you too deeply. Have a little cry and move on. Get right back up and keep marketing and making your business the best that it can be. You’re in a small town, right? Small town folk especially know the scent of fear. Gossip is both your best marketing tool and your worst enemy. So you better give those gossipers something good to say about you. Never frown. Never be anything less than inviting and professional. If they sense your panic, they’ll think you’re prey bleeding in the water. They’ll tell all their friends that you’re already floundering, and nobody will want to visit you after that. It’s what they do. You can either be their favorite new hotspot, or their favorite new topic of conversation. You can try to be both, but why not be the superior one?”

  She read that back over after she sent it. That looks a bit manic. There was such a thing as being too helpful, and Frankie may have discovered it.

  “Thanks,” Z finally said. “I appreciate your expertise. I’ll keep it in mind. Think I’ll go to bed early tonight. You have a good one.”

  Frankie couldn’t explain the feeling that gave her. Had she actually helped her friend? Or had she spoken beyond her boundaries?

  “You have a good one, too. I’m sure this weekend will be better.” Frankie turned her phone over after that. She still couldn’t quite explain the feeling welling up in her stomach.

  She hadn’t felt this since the night before she opened her deli. It was not something she readily welcomed back into her life.

  Chapter 8

  ELAINE

  Advice was like nipples. Everyone had them.

  Why did I have to compare advice to nipples? Because Elaine knew exactly who she was thinking of when she came up with that brilliant analogy. Fran. Good ol’ Fran. The person who had surpassed a person from a Buffy fan forum to become Elaine’s longest online friend. Some days, that truly was an accomplishment.

  Elaine had been earnest when she sought out Fran’s advice. After all, Fran had been running her own business in a small town for several years. Not one year. Not two! Several! I can’t think of anything more than I want to say the same thing for myself. Although their details had been sparse over the years – Fran’s rule, not Elaine’s – she knew that Fran was in the food service sector. Not that Elaine had been able to figure out if Fran ran a restaurant or provided some other service. The vague details imparted over the years painted a convoluted picture.

  Still, Elaine wouldn’t say no to good advice. Even when it wasn’t necessarily what she wanted to hear.

  Having Fran dress her down a bit was embarrassing. Not because Elaine didn’t deserve it, but because she should have known better than to fall into the same ol’ trap so many other people did. Of course she wouldn’t strike gold the first month of her business! What was she, delusional? How many times had Elaine surfed the internet highway and found sob stories from small business newbies who were not prepared for how harsh reality could be? This was a woman who picked apart people’s tales, from those who had completely missed their market, to those who had made lots of money but were not prepared for the costs involved. That’s more people than I anticipated. Elaine had sworn she would not make the same mistake. She heavily researched the costs of running a business, and not only on the surface level. She looked into local taxes. She considered the average income and priced accordingly. This was a woman who had carefully planned her own birthday parties growing up. People often looked at her and saw someone too ditzy for her own good, but that was a façade. Deep down, Elaine was deeply afraid of failure. A few years ago, she would have never been able to take a chance and put her own money into a business like this.

  I was inspired, though…

  Fran was more than someone to talk to. She was a bastion of inspiration. She didn’t hesitate to jump in with her opinions, although over the years, she tended to wa
it until Elaine asked for them. Tell me everything. Give me all of your knowledge. Assume that I am a sponge, and I want to soak up everything you have to say. Elaine couldn’t say that, though. One of the first lessons she learned about running a small business was that many people kept their secret sauces closely guarded. Sometimes literally…

  Except they weren’t in competition. As far as Elaine was concerned, she had no competition. The closest thing was Heaven’s, but the more Elaine stopped in to get a whiff of the pastries and coffee, the more she was convinced that their target audiences were completely different. Maybe she competed with Frankie a little. Then again, such disparate audiences!

  Frankie… go figure with a name like that. It was clearly short for Francis, although that only reminded Elaine that her friend Fran probably had a name that was short for Francis. What were the odds? Pretty good. Neither of them are the first black women I know named Francis. Still, the coincidence was great enough that every time Elaine stepped out of Heaven’s and looked across the street, she thought of her friend Fran. Not that she needed more excuses to think of Fran.

  Elaine had been crushing on her for years now, of course.

  Go figure. I have a crush on a woman I know almost nothing about. That wasn’t true, though, was it? They were friends, for God’s sake! Friends told each other all sorts of things, even if it wasn’t their real names or what part of the country they lived in. I don’t need to know where she lives to know that she’s one of the coolest people I know… Sometimes, Elaine couldn’t remember how they met. Nor did she know how they moved from a no-frills dating site to communicating via text. 360. That was Fran’s area code, the only one like it in Elaine’s address book. Am I a bad person if I admit I looked it up because I was curious? Just the area code. Just enough to know that Elaine had, at one point, lived in Olympia, Washington.

  What if she still lived there? What if Elaine was closer than ever to the person she wanted to meet more than anyone else?

  Preposterous. Fran would never agree to it. She was deeply protective of her personal information because, as she put it, “I have a minor to take care of.” Elaine knew she didn’t have kids of her own, but at some point, Fran was taking care of a family member. Her brother? Perhaps. That sounded right.

  360. The Olympia area code. Honestly, it could’ve been any part of Western Washington, really, but Elaine had a good feeling about Olympia. Mostly because Fran occasionally made jokes about the music from the area, which she claimed was, “Totally not my style, but I dig it when women try to empower other women.” Riot Grrl was the first thing Elaine thought of, and she often wondered if the object of her unknown affections could tell her if it “Sleater Kinney Avenue” was a real street in the area.

  I could drive up to Western Washington in a few hours… Fran wouldn’t have to come see her. Elaine was willing to go to her, if they could make it happen. Besides, what other point was there to her living in Oregon if she couldn’t finally have an excuse to go see Fran?

  Oh, did that imply she had moved to Oregon from Chicago solely for Fran?

  Well, no. And yes.

  I moved here because it seemed like the right move to make. Many factors had gone into Elaine’s decision. The sole existence of Paradise Valley, for one. She had made sure to visit at least once before committing to a move and opening up a new business in a brand-new place. She had also visited the neighboring cities of Portland and Eugene, and while both appealed to her, there was something about being surrounded by queer women that inspired her to truly be herself. I’m also not the only black lesbian in town, so that’s something! Yes, it was something Elaine had not expected, since her visit the year before meant the only other black people she met were fellow tourists. While she didn’t need to be surrounded by as much diversity as she was used to back in Chicago, she had to admit she was never prepared for how… not as diverse Oregon could be. Black people only make up two percent of the population here. So far, they made up about 1% of Paradise Valley’s meager population of several hundred people.

  Somewhere, her mother was laughing.

  There were other reasons for her move, of course. She loved the fresh Oregon air, a grand contrast to the Chicago suburbs. The weather was positively pleasant as well. I’ll take a daily drizzle all year over the Chicago snows any day. She heard there was snow here, but it wasn’t anything like home. Only that the locals went a little nuts trying to adapt. I’ve already seen two sets of studded tires on the roads here. No, it hadn’t been snowing. Some people simply wanted to watch every road in Oregon crumble away, Elaine supposed.

  I wish I could go to Fran’s business and see how she runs things…

  Elaine sat in her empty café on a rainy Saturday afternoon. Her mother had asked for a video tour, but Elaine refused to show a completely empty café. She had sent Christina home early when it became clear that there would be no more customers that day. Oh, she had some that day. A few came in for brunch and congratulated her on the excellent cookies and tea. Elaine had taken their compliments to heart, if only because they gave her the strength to press on for the rest of the day. By four, however, when she accepted the setting sun was about to keep everyone else away, she locked the door and flipped the sign.

  “My second Saturday,” she texted Fran. “Had a few customers, but nothing like opening weekend. I’m trying to temper my expectations, but it’s difficult. I really hope word of mouth kicks in soon.”

  She didn’t expect a response right away.

  “So, you had customers. That’s a good thing. Be more worried if you didn’t get customers your second Saturday opened.”

  “Your tough love works on me sometimes.”

  “Is that tough love? That’s my regular level of love. Ask my brother. I love the shit outta him.”

  Elaine chuckled, before putting down her phone and wiping the front counter of her café. She kept telling herself that, if nothing else, she could at least say she had taken the scary plunge into making one of her dreams come true. Not many other people could say that.

  ***

  “Oh, isn’t this a lovely space!” The lead food and attraction writer for a regional newspaper helped herself into Tea & Thyme, with Elaine hustling right behind her. “I get the feeling that this used to be another kind of restaurant, though. Let me guess… fish and chips? No, the token Mexican joint in town.”

  Elaine didn’t have the answer on hand, so she said, “Yes,” as if answering it was both.

  “Why don’t we have the photographer take a few pictures of the ambiance?” She said it with a sophisticated “a,” not the hickish drawl of ambiants, not that Elaine minded either way. For a small town reporter to gas her accent up like that… maybe I’m in trouble. This woman wanted elegance with her tea. Elaine better deliver.

  She had no idea this woman was coming until she received a call that morning. Turned out that her visit to a restaurant in a neighboring town was cancelled because the place went under overnight. Instead, she pivoted to Paradise Valley, where she heard a new teashop had opened. The woman proclaimed herself a lover of all things tea and crumpets. Crumpets! Another sign that Elaine might be in trouble.

  “Have a seat over here, if you would.” Elaine showed her to the premier spot by the front window, the perfect place for gazing at a lazy Sunday. A few other people milled about the café, but nobody had really bought anything besides a couple cups of tea and a single cookie. The nice thing about a reviewer from a newspaper, however, was that they were provided a budget. “I think you’ll find the plants hanging above make for a lovely accent to the space.”

  The woman looked up before sitting down. Elaine was about to push her chair in for her when the door opened, and she whipped her head around to see a familiar face from the week before.

  “Hey.” Dominic gave an appreciative nod as he held the door open for someone else. “Brought someone with me. We’ll get you more customers soon enough.”

  Elaine didn’t know who she quite ex
pected, but it was definitely not Frankie, the only woman in town who could look at Elaine with those tired businesswomen’s eyes… and make her instantly regret everything happening in her café at that very moment.

  Chapter 9

  FRANKIE

  Going out that afternoon had been Dominic’s brilliant plan. “You need to let someone else serve you something, Sis,” he had sagely said, as if he had any idea what Frankie needed. “You’re cramped up in the deli all day taking care of others’ needs. Have you ever thought about, I dunno, going out to a restaurant once in a while?”

  Not really. Sounded like it carried the dangers of socializing. This was a small town, after all. What if she saw someone she knew there? The woman ran the busiest deli in the county. If it wasn’t bored housewives, it was gossipy laborers crossing her path and saying, “What’s up, Frankie? Have you heard…”

  It was her day off. Every other Sunday she completely shut down instead of opening up for three hours during peak lunchtime. Granted, she never knew what to do with herself after she slept in and finished the chores she had been too tired to catch up on earlier that week. Sit on my ass for once. How about that? Sometimes she did a big grocery run to the same Wal-Mart everyone else frequented whether they liked it or not. Other times she spent half the day on the phone with her mother. If Dominic had friends over, she hovered near them, but rarely said anything. She was curious about what they got up to with their video games and HBO shows, but that didn’t mean she wanted to talk to twenty-year-old men enjoying newfound freedom for the first time. No, thanks.

  Then there were days she awoke with her brother leering at her from her bedroom doorway, his bright and toothy grin making her feel like she was about to be cut in her sleep.

  “Heeeeey, Sis,” she could still hear him saying in the back of her head. “Rise and shine, huh? I’ve got plans for you today.”