Big Cherry Holler - Adriana Trigiani [17]
When I sold Pearl the business for a dollar (the technicality made it legal) years ago, it wasn’t just to keep it from falling into the hands of my Aunt Alice Lambert. I did it because it was time for me to move on and start my new life. I shed the reputation of town spinster; I didn’t know what I would replace it with, but it was going to be something! I had big plans. I was going to travel the world and find the place where I fit. I had lived my life taking care of my parents; at thirty-five, I felt half of my life was over, and I hadn’t lived one day of it for myself. Folks were shocked when I sold Mama’s car, then gave Pearl the store and the Mulligan homestead on Poplar Hill. I knew if Pearl and Leah moved into town, it would give them a new worldview, the very thing I was seeking. It seemed crazy to others, but I saw potential in Pearl and knew that, with a little encouragement, she could make something of a business that I merely maintained. I never felt like Mulligan’s Mutual was mine, even though it said so in Mama’s will. I never felt like anything but an employee. Once I knew that Fred Mulligan wasn’t my father, I didn’t have to hold on to the things he had built. And I didn’t want to.
I never intended to become a pharmacist. After I went to Saint Mary’s and got my degree, I came home because Fred Mulligan had gotten sick and couldn’t run the place, and if he lost the business, what would happen to Mama? Then he died, and she got sick. I don’t regret staying home to take care of my mother. She had peace of mind when she died, knowing I was secure financially. I wonder what she thought up in heaven when I sold the Pharmacy to Pearl.
It sure would be nice to have a little cushion now. I don’t like myself for feeling this way. A little cushion is just a veil for what you really need. Don’t we all need extra money? Is there ever a time we don’t? The nest egg that I came into my marriage with has dwindled over the years. We needed extra cash to maintain the property. Things happened: the big pine tree that hit the back of the house two winters ago; a new truck for Jack when his old one broke down; Joe’s medical expenses.
I began working at the Pharmacy again once Joe was in preschool. When I came back to work, I realized how much I had missed my work life. Maybe I initially became a pharmacist out of duty, but when I returned, it was by choice. I found out that I love what I do, the precision of it, learning about new medications, and helping folks look after their health. When I quit, I missed the delivery run and talking to folks in their own homes. I missed the way their houses smelled so distinctly from one another: the Tuckett sisters’ of cinnamon, the Bledsoes’ of lilies, and the Sturgills’ of fresh vanilla. The job was something that was all mine, and I liked that. I missed being needed for my skills and my knowledge of medications. My job fills me up in ways I never knew until I left it behind.
The fifteen-minute commute seems more like ten seconds. As I come into the clearing, I figure I’ve taken a wrong turn or I’m at the wrong house. My home is lit up like a casino. Cars and pickup trucks are parked all around it. I don’t remember planning a party.
As I climb the front steps, I look in the window like a visitor. I see my husband in the front room, surrounded by men. They drink beer and laugh and talk. I must stand there a long time, because the milk in the paper sack starts to feel wet on the bottom.
The laughter dies down a bit when the men see me in the entryway.
“I thought poker night was Tuesday,” I say with a big smile.
“We ain’t gamblin’, Ave,” Rick Harmon says with a wink. He has his feet on my mama’s old coffee table. I push them off; the men laugh. Jack Mac takes the milk from me and leads me into the kitchen. Shoo the Cat makes a break for the kitchen and follows.
“Where’s Etta?”
“Watchin’ TV.” Jack puts the milk in the fridge and turns to me and smiles. His face is full