Don't Kiss the Bride

“You have really pretty eyes,” she said when she finally took a breath.

From that moment forward, we were best friends.

Sometimes I wish I could talk her into my RV dream. I’m going to miss her when she goes off to college and starts a whole new life. We’d have a blast driving around the country together, listening to great music, taking hundreds of selfies in new places. Instead, we’ll be communicating through text messages and video chat.

The three p.m. bell finally rings, and I walk the mile and a half through town to Belongings, the boutique I’ve worked at for almost a year. Belongings sells local handmade items like jewelry, clothes, house decor, candles, candies, dolls, and even makeup and soaps. Although the shop looks rather small from the outside, it’s much bigger on the inside, broken up into four rooms. All the rooms are decorated as if it were someone’s real house—photos on the walls, jewelry in jewelry boxes, coasters and mugs set on tables—giving the feel of walking through a house where you can buy the things you like. I love the coziness of the shop.

Rebecca, the owner, bakes cookies in the small kitchen in the back of the store, which used to be a tiny diner. Two years ago, she and her husband divorced. She’s thirty-two and has no kids, so apparently after they split she thrust herself into learning how to bake to keep herself “too busy to rebound into a bad relationship” as she put it. Turns out, she has a talent for whipping up amazing desserts. She puts the cookies in cute little bags for the customers to take. Rebecca is always trying to get me to eat them, but I’ve never tried one. They do make the entire store smell delicious, though. Sometimes I think half the customers come in just for the cookies.

The bell on the door of the boutique clinks as I swing it open, and the blast of air-conditioned air is refreshing after walking in the stifling heat. “Hi, Rebecca,” I call out. “Sorry I’m late today. I had to walk.”

She looks up from behind a rotating display of crystal necklaces, and tucks her shoulder-length black hair behind her ear. “That’s okay. You know I don’t stress over things like that. Is something wrong with your car?”

I plop my purse and backpack behind the register counter, and a wave of dizziness makes me clutch the edge of the display case. Kicking myself for not calling an Uber in this humidity, I unscrew the top off my water bottle and gulp until the feeling slowly subsides. “I had to have it towed last night.” Thankfully, I wasn’t scheduled to work yesterday since it was the first day of school. “Not sure what’s wrong with it, it’s still at the shop.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Don’t worry about being a little late when you need to be. Seriously.” Her gaze lingers on my face. “Do you feel alright? You look pale.”

Nodding, I say, “I’m fine. It’s just really humid out. I was going to ask if you had anything I can do over the weekend? I don’t know how much this car thing is going to cost…” I trail off, embarrassed, and hoping she doesn’t think I’m trying to guilt her into extra hours.

“Hmm.” She looks around the store. Her eyes suddenly light up. “Actually, I think I do have something you can do for me that I don’t have the time or the patience for. I need pictures of the store and the products to be put on social media. Apparently, I’m supposed to post at least a photo a day. That’s all the rage now and I’ve totally slacked off on it because it’s a huge time suck.”

“That sounds like fun, actually. I follow a lot of people and products on Instagram. I’ve been trying to build my own following. I can check out other boutiques and get some ideas.”

“That’s exactly what I need. I don’t know why I didn’t think to ask you to do this earlier. How’s the camera on your cell phone?”

My heart sinks a little when I pull my old phone out of my pocket. “Um, not good. My screen is cracked. I don’t know if that will—”

She holds her hand up, smiling. “You know what? I’ve been thinking of getting a new phone. Mine is old, too. Tonight I’m going to stop at the mall and get two new iPhones. My sister says the camera is amazing. I’ll give one to you.”

“Oh, Rebecca. I can’t let you do that. Do you know how expensive those are?”

She’s nonplussed. “I can write it off for the business. It would be a big help to have you take this over. You can have access to the accounts, use those cool filters, and reply to any comments or questions people leave. It can be a new part of your job, if you’re interested? I’ll give you a raise.”