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Published by sitizalehaabdullah, 2021-09-15 00:45:18

A Cinderella Story

A Cinderella Story

 

Copyright © 2020 by Ebru Kartal

All rights reserved.

Visit my website at http://www.ekwoodcock.com

Cover Design by Callie Rae: http://www.literarydesigns.com

Copyediting by Telltail Editing: http://www.telltailediting.com

Formatting by Callie Rae: http://www.literarydesigns.com

 

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by
any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or
by any information storage and retrieval system without the written
permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book
review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents
either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely
coincidental.

 

 

This book was inspired by my little girl and is written for her. Keep in
mind, sweet girl, you can accomplish anything you put in your mind. I love

you!

Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One Skylar
Chapter Two Carter
Chapter Three Skylar
Chapter Four Carter
Chapter Five Skylar
Chapter Six Carter
Chapter Seven Skylar
Chapter Eight Carter
Chapter Nine Skylar
Chapter Ten Skylar

Chapter Eleven Carter
Chapter Twelve Skylar
Chapter Thirteen Carter
Chapter Fourteen Skylar
Chapter Fifteen Carter
Chapter Sixteen Skylar
Chapter Seventeen Carter
Chapter Eighteen Skylar
Chapter Nineteen Carter
Chapter Twenty Skylar
Chapter Twenty-One Carter
Chapter Twenty-Two Skylar
Chapter Twenty-Three Carter
Chapter Twenty-Four Skylar
Chapter Twenty-Five Carter
Epilogue Skylar
Acknowledgments
About the Author

It all started with a lost little shoe at the parking lot of the mall. Who
would have guessed somebody else's Cinderella story would lead me to my
Prince Charming?

The traffic in this town is horrible since they put those dreaded traffic
lights at the bottom of the hill. They make the entire town congested, and it
takes about twenty minutes to get in and out of the town. Today is one of
those days where the lights aren't timed properly and good luck moving an
inch in an hour, but I'm determined to see through this and get to my
destination.

Last year for my twenty-sixth birthday, my mother bought me a sixty-
minute reading with one of the better-known mediums in the city. Now, I'm
not a religious or spiritual person but my mother is. She's very into psychics
and mediums and everything that comes with them. I'm through and
through a skeptic when it comes to these things. These people are intuitive,
fantastic guessers, and very good at reading people.

But I'm bored and need a distraction today so I've finally booked my
reading and am on my way to go learn about my future and what's in store
for me. This should be entertaining at the very least.

After a thirty-minute gruesome car ride out of Cochrane, Alberta—
thankfully, with all my hair still intact—I reach the outskirts of Calgary.
Also known as The Heart of the New West, or what I like to call a distant
cousin to Dallas, Texas.

It's a beautiful fall day in early September. The sun is bright and high,
with not a single cloud in the sky. The trees have started to turn color with
an explosion of oranges and reds, and it's the perfect sweater weather. What
else could I ask for?

Driving through a cute and friendly neighborhood with manicured front
lawns and white picket fences, I finally reach my destination and park in
front of house number twenty. The skeptic in me is starting to poke its head
out, so I take a deep breath before I get out of the car.

Here goes nothing. I give the door a gentle knock and wait for someone
to answer. An eccentric-looking, thirty-something woman with ombré blond
and red hair opens the door. “Welcome to my house, sweetie. Come in, let
me take your coat.”

She has an infectious smile and a calming aura about her. I can't stop
myself from smiling back, despite my skepticism. “Thank you very much,
Aubrey,” I say as I pass her my coat. “I'm Skylar. Here for a reading.” As if
she doesn't already know why I'm there.

“The room is right this way.” She points down the hall to the first door
on the right.

It's a smallish room with lots of tinctures, oils and crystals, and a
massage table in the middle. Walking through the door, the smell hits me
right in the face. The room smells like a rain forest; the only thing missing
is the chirping of birds to turn this mirage into a reality. Along with the
smell, there's calming music with soft drumming and chanting. I
immediately want to lie down on the massage table and take a nap for an
hour.

She guides me in. “Take a seat on the table. I'm sorry I don't have a
desk. I usually do all my readings and massages on here.”

I do as instruct and hop on the bed. It makes a creaking sound as I land
on it. I give a worried look to Aubrey to make sure I haven't broken her
table or it's not going to give out from under me. She just smiles and hands
me a pack of tarot cards.

“All right, here's how it's going to go. I want you to hold these cards for
a few minutes and shuffle them. Once shuffled, you can put them on the
table in front of you. I'll pick your cards and start your reading.”

Nodding at her explanation, I shuffle the cards. Once I'm satisfied
everything is mixed up well, I put the deck in front of me and touch it one
last time for good measure.

“Perfect,” she says and starts flipping the cards. She flips eight cards
and starts explaining what each of them means.

“There's something in your life that you used to do a lot and were very
proud to be doing it. Whatever this is, it’s going to come back into your life
again very soon and help you to reach your goals.”

She points to a middle card. The card has the picture of a village road
surrounded by trees on each side with the sun shining bright on it, but
there’s also an object blocking the road halfway through. Looking at it more
clearly, I can see it’s a tree trunk. Before Aubrey says a word, I immediately
know what this card means, but I let her take the lead anyway.

“See this card? It means you're stuck and can't move forward until you
make the decision to overcome this barrier. You will be stuck in this place.
To get on with your journey, take control over your life. It feels like you've
given the reins of your life to someone else and they're dragging you
wherever they go, whether you like it or not. It's time to take control back.”

I'm flabbergasted. That's how I've been feeling for the better half of this
past year. “I'm currently stuck in a job I don't really like,” I mutter to her.
Aubrey gives me a look full of understanding and compassion, and I can’t
seem to stop myself from opening up to this stranger. “You know, I
shouldn’t really say that. I love the people I work with and my boss is a
decent person, but I’ve been there for three years now, doing the same darn
thing day in and day out with no promises of a raise or a promotion. I’ve
just had it,” I say, shrugging my shoulders.

Aubrey smiles like she knows exactly what’s happening in my life and
moves on to the next card on the table. The card is very similar to the one
before but it’s lacking the tree trunk that blocks the road. Instead, it has two
hands reaching for each other over the sky, almost like the famous
Michelangelo painting. “See this one? It symbolizes things are about to turn
around for you. All you have to do is make the decision and follow through
with it.”

The next card has a giant coin on it. She points at it and says, “You've
picked the money card, and I don't really need to explain to you what this
card means because it's pretty self-explanatory. It all engages with making
the decision. Once you take care of that stage, everything will snowball—
health, wealth, success. This card is where your dreams come true.”

At this point, I'm so emotionally exhausted from not wanting to believe
a word and can't stop myself from gawking at how true everything she's

saying is. The last card is a single glass shoe sitting on ice under the starry
night, lit up by the moon.

She looks at the card and then at me with a small smile on her face. “Do
you know that saying ‘find a penny, pick it up; all day long you'll have good
luck?’”

“Yes, I know the saying,” I reply, the skeptical in me rearing its head
back up. Is this where she tells me about the tall, dark and mysterious man
in my future just like any medium would say to a person who's desperate
for love?

She smirks and says, “See a lost shoe, pick it up and Prince Charming
you will find,” in a very Yoda-like fashion. It takes all my willpower not to
roll my eyes and burst into laughter because this is exactly what I was
expecting.

At the end of our reading, I hand her the gift card and simply say,
“Thank you,” before I leave. I get into my car and immediately call my
mother.

She picks up on the second ring. “Sooooo... tell me everything, Sky.
How was it? What did she say? Do not skip any details!”

I do roll my eyes this time. “If you let me talk, Mother, I’ll tell you what
a hack your medium is.”

There's silence on the other end of the phone, heavy with the
disapproval of my word choices and my tone.

I sigh. “Okay, Mooooom.”
She snickers just like she always does when her perfect plan to guilt-trip
me into something works. Don’t get me wrong, my mother isn’t a bad
person, even though she loves to manipulate her way into everything she
wants in life. She’s also just a tad bit overdramatic, but I wouldn’t change
her for the world.
“Well, it was actually very interesting at the beginning. She pretty much
hit everything on the nose.” Mom makes a noncommittal noise as if to say
go on, and I continue. “Essentially, she told me I need to make a big
decision and stick to it, that I was stuck in a place and to get out of it, I
needed to take control of my life and take charge.”
“Oh, this is so exciting!” I could almost hear her jumping up and down
in joy. “I bet ya it's about that job of yours.”
“Hmmm. That's what I thought, too.” I come to a stop at the lights and
put my right turn signal on to merge onto the four-way.

“It's time, Skylar. If Aubrey said it was time, then it's time to pull the
plug on that dead-end job and do something with your life.”

“Yes, Mom, but I want a safety blanket before I pull the plug, you
know? I don't really want to become homeless and unemployed all at the
same time because some medium told me to.” I don't let her get a word in
before I continue. “Also, she said something wonky at the end that makes
me believe she’s a hack, so I don't know how much to trust her.”

“And what was that?” I can hear the eyebrow lift through her question.
“She said something along the lines of, 'Find a lost shoe, pick it up,
Prince charming you will find,’” I repeat the words Aubrey spoke earlier,
rolling my eyes this time.
“Young lady, stop rolling your eyes at my medium,” she scolds.
I smirk at her guessing correctly. She knows me well. “Well, I mean,
what else am I supposed to do with that? Anyways, I'm almost at the mall.
Going to do some shopping now that I have some time. I'll talk to you
later.”

“All right, monkey, we might have to go with the clips again,” I say as I
once again struggle to put all my daughter’s hair in a ponytail with an
elastic that's too tiny.

She scowls at me. “But, Daddy, all my friends have ponytails and I want
one, too.”

“That's all right, Everly, but we’re not going to see your friends right
now. Remember, we’re going to the mall.”

“Three stores, three stores,” she sings with delight. She would jump up
and down if I could finish with her hair.

“Yes, exactly, three stores to shop from.” I smile at her, still battling
with this elastic band.

I'm afraid my big callused hands are about to break this tiny, dainty
band. “All right, Carter, you can do this. It's just a bit of hair and a tiny
elastic, just put the hair through the hoop,” I give myself a pep talk.

This time, the elastic doesn't fly across the room and I'm successful. She
turns around with a triumphant look in her eyes and high fives me. “I knew
you could do it, Daddy.”

Those eyes, they remind me so much of her mother, my beautiful
Willow. She had long curly brown hair down to her mid-back, big brown
doe eyes that couldn't hide any emotion, and a smile that could drop anyone
to their knees. She was beautiful, and she was my rock.

As all stories have an end, ours had a very premature one. Everly was
only a year old when we lost Willow, and not a day goes by that I don't miss
her, but now, looking into Everly's big brown eyes, all I see is Willow

looking back at me. Losing Willow was very unexpected, leaving me
blindsided and desperate. If it wasn’t for my angel of a mother, I don’t
know if I would have survived the pain.

Our daughter inherited all her mother’s looks, facial expressions, and
personality, along with a few tricks of her own.

After what feels like forever, we finally leave the house and get in the
car to drive to the mall. You know those single people who can decide they
want to go somewhere and be out the door in a moment’s notice, well, that’s
not this house.

In this house, getting ready takes at least forty-five minutes and then
there's the ceremonious putting on the jacket and deciding whether to zip it
up or button it up. Once that's decided, there's the picking of the shoes.

It usually ends with, “I'm wearing a pink skirt today, Daddy, so purple
rain boots it is.” And that's usually the end of discussion. If I object to it,
there'll be a long-winded debate about how I don't know anything about
matching clothes. And this coming from a three-year-old who's just
matched pink with purple.

We sing to the radio as I drive us to the mall. She’s belting out the lyrics
to some Taylor Swift song, very offbeat and out of tune, but it's the most
charming thing I've ever witnessed. I could never get sick of hearing her
sing. She's shaking her hands and head, singing, “Shake it off, shake it off,”
when I finally find a parking spot. I get out of the car to unbuckle her from
her seat and join her in singing the song.

“Daddy, no, you're singing it wrong.” She giggles.
“Oh, yeah... well, if you know it so well, why you don’t tell me how it
goes then?”
She proceeds to show me exactly how it’s sung. “See, Daddy, that's how
it goes.”
I can't do anything but smile at this beautiful three-year-old girl who's
brought so much joy into my life.
We walk in through the double doors of the mall entrance, and I
immediately spot a shopping cart left abandoned by the wall. Pointing to it,
I ask, “Do you want to ride in a cart or walk for a bit?”
At first, she doesn't answer so I look down to see an upset expression on
her beautiful face. Tears are welling up in her eyes. Her button lip pops out,
and her chin starts to wobble.

I immediately go down to my knees to be eye level with her, cupping
her cheeks in my hands. “What's wrong, my princess? Why are you so
upset?”

One tear rolls out. “We might have to go to four stores, Daddy,” she
says.

I wipe her tears with my thumb. “And why would we do that, and why
does that make you so upset, honey?”

Another tear rolls down her cheek as she just looks at her feet. I follow
her line of sight and realize she's only wearing one sparkly purple boot.
“Those were my favorite boots.”

She can't hold it back anymore and starts to full-on cry. I pull her into a
hug. “Hey, don't worry. We'll get a new pair.”

She beams at my revelation, and once again, I realize I've been played
by a three-year-old.

With an amused smile on my face, I point to her with a wink. “You, my
dear, are a master manipulator. Definitely got that trait from your mother.”

She merely giggles and keeps on walking with only one shoe.

 
 

I finally find a parking spot and squeeze my small car in between two
huge trucks. “Think small thoughts" is my mantra to be able to get out
without damaging the other vehicle or mine.

I crack the door and painstakingly squeeze out of the car. It takes me a
good five minutes of carefully maneuvering, sucking my belly in, and
cursing under my breath to make it out. I’m flustered and covered in sweat,
but it’s my day off and I’m determined to spend it in the mall, spending my
non-existent money.

As I muttered to myself about how people are inconsiderate with the
way they park and the entire population of Calgary probably being in the
mall, my eye catches a small purple object. At first, I want to avoid it, but
the need to figure out what it is forces me to follow my line of sight to
where the object is.

The closer I get, Aubrey’s words start to resurface in my mind. See a
lost shoe, pick it up, and Prince Charming you will find.

I know exactly what this object is now, and I can’t stop myself from
smiling a little. It’s a small rain boot left by the side of a parked truck.
Picking it up, I think to myself that some poor mother is probably losing her
mind in the mall while her toddler is wailing because she’s only got one
shoe on and she doesn’t know where the other one is. Hoping to find them
quickly, I walk through the doors of the mall with the shoe in hand. How
hard could it be to find a child with only one shoe?

Walking in and out of stores, doing my shopping, I'm on my way to my
favorite store when I finally spot them. I didn’t think they’d still be here

considering I’ve been in the mall a couple of hours already. But there they
are, and the sight in front of me is not what I expected. The person with the
toddler is not the mother, but the father. And boy, is he ever good looking.
Dark brown hair, muscular build, looks a lot like a taller Jensen Ackles.
What's more charming is that you can see the love on his face when he
looks at his daughter. What I wasn’t expecting is how heartwarming the
scene in front of me is.

The little girl is indeed missing one of her shoes, and I have the
matching one in my purse. However, the dad is also missing one of his
shoes and it’s in his hand. My heart melts when I realize he took his shoe
off in the middle of the mall to make his daughter feel better about losing
her shoe. I catch up to them just before they walk into the shoe store.

“Excuse me, young lady,” I say, addressing the little girl. I bring myself
to her eye level. Although I want to focus all my attention on the girl, my
eyes have other ideas. My willpower is crumbling under his gaze, and I
steal a look at him. His eyes portray a warning toward me, as if he’s trying
to communicate his thoughts through them. Those ocean blue eyes are
burning through me, clearly saying, You touch her, you get hurt. Uneasy
under his gaze, I give him a reassuring smile, trying to communicate I’m
harmless.

With a subtle nod, I point to my purse. “You may call me your fairy
godmother, Cinderella.”

She looks at her dad with big brown eyes that clearly say, This woman is
insane, Daddy. Disregarding the silent conversation between them, I
continue.

“I believe I have something you’ve left behind, princess.” I pull the
other shoe out and extend a hand toward her foot. “May I?”

She beams at the first sight of her shoe. “Daddy, look! The crazy lady
found my shoe.” She immediately gives me her foot for me to put it on.

Slipping the shoe on her tiny foot, I declare, “Perfect match.”
She looks at me with a smile on her face and reaches out a hand toward
my head. To my surprise, she giggles and gently taps my head. “Bibbidi-
bobbidi-boo, fairy godmother.”
Before I get a chance to react, they both say their thank-yous and walk
away. Straightening, I watch them walk on with glee. The smile on my face
grows even bigger when I realize he’s still holding his one shoe. They come

to an abrupt stop, not too far from where I am at, and he puts his shoe back
on.

The last thing I hear is the little girl’s contagious giggles as she says,
“You’re so silly, Daddy.”

“Daddy, I’m going to be a mermaid. Watch this!” Ev says animatedly,
sliding down the edge of the tub. She giggles as she emerges from under the
water. “Did you see that, Daddy? Wasn’t that so much fun!”

“Yes, little monkey, but look, you splashed so much water onto the
floors.” The tiredness of the day is starting to get to me, and the smallest
things are getting rather irritating.

“But it was so much fun, right, Daddy.” She looks up at me with big
innocent eyes, and I don’t know how I could ever be upset or annoyed with
her.

With a hint of tiredness clinging to me, I smile at her. It doesn't take her
long to realize she’s not in trouble, and she gives me her brightest smile,
lighting up the room and my heart. Deciding this is the perfect moment to
reminisce about the events of the day, she goes on an excited monologue.

"Daddy, don't you think that lady was just so cool. She found my shoe
and did the whole Cindewella thing. I really felt like a pwincess. Not that
you don't make me feel like one every day, but she was almost like, sent
from an angel.” She stops for a breath while I chuckle at her enthusiasm.

Generally, for a three-year-old, Everly’s speech is above her years—
until she gets overexcited or overwhelmed in certain situations. As it is
now, she’s so excited over what happened earlier today that she’s getting
her Rs and Ws mixed up. When I first realized this a few months ago, I took
her to the speech pathologist and was told mixing up letters is normal for a
three-year-old when excited. So, I don’t attempt to correct her when she
continues her monologue.

“How cool would it be if we got to hang out with her all the time. Then
she would be my fairy godmother and that would just be so much fun. I’m
going to tell April all about her tomorrow at daycare. And Grandma, yes!
It's going to be awesome."

She takes another breather, then looks at me like she remembered
something. “Daddy, were you angry at that lady?”

The question catches me off guard. “Angry? No, honey. Why do you
think I was angry?”

She looks back up at me, taking a break from playing with her mermaid.
“You had your angry eyes on when she was talking to me.”

"Angry eyes? I don’t think so.” I smile at her, but she's not wrong in her
observation.

At first, when I saw her approaching us, my first instinct was to pull Ev
behind me and question this random woman on her intentions. But I got a
glimpse of the purple rain boot peeking out of the top of her enormous pink
purse. Add in the shoulder-length curls bouncing up and down with her
each step and the bright jade-colored eyes that smiled at Everly, and I was
paralyzed. I couldn't move, all motor functions forgotten, and I just stood
there and let this strange woman play some silly Cinderella scheme on my
daughter.

While I have this inner thought process with myself, the excitement in
Ev's voice has reached top volume and the things she's saying are getting a
little ridiculous. "Daddy, I could call her my fairy godmother forever. She
could do my hair like Cinderella. We could go shoe shopping all the time."

I laugh at the excitement and silliness of this entire monologue. "I take
you shoe shopping all the time."

She just looks at me with questioning eyes. "It's not the same. You don't
even know what kind of shoes goes with which outfit. A girl would
know…"

I realize we’re treading in dangerous territory here and change the
subject. “All right, little lady, it’s time to wash your hair and get ready for
bed,” I say, knowing she’s immediately going to object, but I’m exhausted
from the day’s events, and I don’t have the energy to spend one more
minute standing.

As expected, she immediately argues. “No, Daddy, I want to wash my
dolly’s hair first,” she whines.

This time, I’m firm in my decision when I tell her, “No, it’s your turn
and if you don’t want soap in your eyes, I suggest you close them when I
tell you to.”

“Nooooooooooooooo! I don’t wanna!” she screams and stomps her feet
in the half-full bath, splashing water everywhere.

Before I can open my mouth to tell her to calm down, my mother walks
into the bathroom, just as if she’s my fairy Godmother. With a sweet smile
on her face, she pats me on the shoulder. “Why don’t you go and sit for a
minute and relax? I’ll finish bathing little lady here.”

I give them both kisses, earing me smiles and giggles, and head straight
to the kitchen. I open the fridge and take out a cold Budweiser can, opening
it and taking a long sip from it as I head to the living room. After Willow
passed, I couldn’t live in the same space with so many memories. Day after
day, I was falling apart until, one day, my mother offered me and Ev her
basement suite. It’s a two-bedroom two-bathroom suite that works perfectly
for the two of us. Works even better on days like today, when being mother
and father both gets a bit too tiring and she can step in and help.

Taking my usual spot on my La-Z-Boy, I reach for the remote and flip
the TV onto the Sportsnet to watch the highlights of the hockey game. The
highlights inform me my team won by two. This win puts us one more step
closer to the playoffs.

I give a small fist pump to the air. “Yes!”
With cold beer in hand and SportsNet in front of me, I reach down and
pull the lever to raise my feet up. My body immediately relaxes, and my
mind goes on autopilot. As I listen to the soft voices of my mother and
daughter talking to each other and giggling in the bathroom, my eyes grow
heavy…
Green eyes—expressive, soft, beautiful jade eyes—stare at me from the
floor. A beautiful smile brightens the room, aimed right at me and Everly.
That smile does funny things to me. The woman carries a rain boot in one
hand as she gazes up at me.
Next thing I know, someone is gently touching my shoulder. I blink
awake and rub the sleep out of my eyes, still under the spell of the dream or
the memory. “Thank you, Mom. You’re my savior, my personal fairy
godmother.”
“Nope, just your mother, taking care of the two most important people
in my life.” She smiles and adds, “Hmmm… speaking of fairy godmothers,

Ev told me she met hers today and that you couldn’t take your eyes off her.”
I give her a small chuckle and noncommittally say, “Ha, you know how

children are.”
She gives me a knowing smile with a glint in her eyes. “Hmm, whatever

you say, son.”
It’s around ten pm now. I have to wake up early for work and get Ev

ready for daycare, so I hug my mother and give her a kiss on the forehead.
“Goodnight, Mom. Thanks for all your help tonight.”

She hugs me back. “You’re welcome, and don’t think for a minute I’ll
let this ‘fairy godmother’ thing go.”

I laugh as I walk down the hall to the bathroom and give her a two-
finger wave goodnight.

It's been three full weeks since the psychic reading and I've been
contemplating my decision to quit my job.

Monday morning, I open my eyes to a sunny early-October day and
immediately know today is the day. I’ve finally made the decision to quit
my nine-to-five job and do something I’m passionate about. Don’t get me
wrong, my job is great; however, I’m just not that into it. It’s just not for me
anymore.

At seven am, I walk into my eighteenth-floor office, hand in my
resignation letter to my boss, inform him the letter is effective immediately,
and walk out despite his pleas and reasoning and offerings of raises and
whatnot.

Well, currently, you're looking at the former special events coordinator
for a non-profit company called Turning Wheels Association. Turning
Wheels Association organizes all sizes of special events for small
businesses to come together and discuss their business and growth plans.
My role in Turning Wheels was to plan and organize all aspects of these
events, which came with a lot of phone calls, emails, and face-to-face
interactions with people who are unhappy one way or another.

At first, I loved it. I loved bringing a smile to the faces of our customers.
I loved solving their problems and sending them home happier. However, it
takes a toll on you to always listen to people complain and yell at you and
be upset. My job paid well and was fun and enjoyable when I first started it,
but spending three years in the same position with no hopes of moving up
or a possible raise gets old pretty quick.

I loved the environment and the people I worked with and I'll be sure to
keep in touch with them but right now, for me, it's upwards and onwards
with my life.

I immediately drive back home and call my mother. “Mom, I did it. I
finally quit my job.”

She gives an excited giggle. “And how do we feel?”
“Ummmm, currently excited but I think once the adrenaline wears off, I
might be begging Mike for my job back,” I respond nervously.
“Oh, don’t be like that, Sky,” my mother chides. “Aubrey told you this
decision would help you move forward with your life. Trust in her
instincts.”
“Yes, Mom. Well, I was planning on taking my laptop and planner and
heading to the nearest Starbucks to get my new life organized,” I tell her.
“That’s my girl,” she says excitedly. I smile, tell her I love her, and hang
up the phone.
My parents recently bought a vacation house on Vancouver Island. They
love the weather and the environment so much, their vacation house has
become their permanent house. However, this doesn’t mean we don’t talk to
each other or see each other often. Thank goodness for the Internet and
technology. We Skype and FaceTime all the time. Morning, night, even at
the butt crack of dawn… doesn’t matter, if one of us needs the other, we’re
there for each other.
As I told my mom, I go home, get my things ready, and head out to the
nearest coffee shop in my neighborhood. I order myself a good old drip
coffee and tell the barista to leave no room for milk. I like my coffee black.
I find a corner of the shop that has a view and a plug for my laptop and start
setting up.
While drumming my fingers on the keys of my laptop, trying to figure
out what the next chapter of my life should consist of, an idea comes to me.
I’ve always loved reading and writing and anything and everything to do
with it. I also have a passion for customer service and for copious amounts
of tasty beer.
I remember the store that used to be a salon is on sale and around the
corner from my condo. This idea of mine shines like a light bulb in my
head… Yes, why not invest in the space and open my own Books & Beers
joint? Best beers around the world, comfortable couches and leather chairs
along with a roaring fire in the corner of the store, maybe a small appetizer

menu, and shelves and shelves full of books. Yes, that's it. Now I just need
to figure out how to start this endeavour, so I open up a new window, type
in “Google” and start doing some research on how to start a new business.

The information on the Internet is overwhelming but very useful. I
hadn't realized I’ve been sitting here taking notes and web browsing for
more than two hours. The gurgling sound that escapes my tummy reminds
me it’s almost lunchtime. I leave my post and go back to the barista, and
this time, I order one of the specialty sandwiches and a pop to ease up my
grumbly belly. While waiting for my food to get ready, I go to the
bathroom, and when I come back out of there, I see a few guys in
construction gear sitting at my table.

They’ve pushed my laptop, notebook, and planner aside and made
themselves comfortable. I walk over with purpose, ready to give them a
piece of my mind. “Excuse me, gentlemen. I was at this table working.” I
give my laptop a pointed look.

They look between themselves, and one of them speaks up. “Sorry,
ma’am, we’re just here on a quick coffee break. We’ll be out of your hair
quickly in a few minutes. Can we share the table until then?”

There’s a glint in his deep ocean-blue eyes when he asks to share the
table for a few minutes and a forming smirk on his rugged face that I’m
instantly drawn to. I mumble something along the lines of, “Of course, no
problem,” and his smile widens.

It’s then that I realize I’ve seen those eyes before. I’ve met this man
before, but who he is or where I met him is a mystery to me. We keep
staring at each other, him with his knowing smirk, me with my ogling gaze,
until one of his friends clears his throat and cuts our eye contact.

“Ahem… Monty, man, come on, stop staring at the nice lady and finish
your coffee before it gets too cold and you declare it’s back to work time.”

Monty averts his eyes from me and chuckles at his friend. “All right, my
coffee is already cold, and since you’ve reminded me, it is time to go back
to the drag.”

His declaration earns him groans of frustration from the other men
sharing my table and a soft chuckle from me. He focuses his blue gaze on
me one more time and softly speaks his parting words with a wink. “Have a
good day, fairy godmother.”

I gasp in shock as the realization hits that this is the man from the mall
and he’s known who I am all along. The barista at the counter announcing

my name with great urgency takes me out of my shocked state. I finally
manage to close my mouth and stop staring at the door long enough to go
and collect my long-forgotten food.

Once I finish eating my sandwich, I go straight back to my research and
decide to use my hard-earned degree in literature and make a career out of
it. After a few more hours of research, note-taking, and Pinteresting
possible entrepreneurship opportunities, I pack up to return tomorrow…
and hopefully, hopefully, see this Monty again.

After we finish dinner, Ev and I decided to go for a ride around town
and indulge in some ice cream. The ride is uneventful, as it’s a rather short
one. We usually walk to the ice cream shop, but it’s early October now and
the weather is starting to cool down. Walking would be too uncomfortable
for her little hands and toes. I park the car under a beautiful willow tree
with its green branches falling like rows and rows of green waterfalls.

This town is full of memories and small things that constantly remind
me of my Willow, causing new hurt and a feeling of betrayal I can’t shake
off.

I realize I’ve been staring at it in deep thought when Ev makes a
complaining sound about being stuck in the car seat I have yet to unlock. I
take her out and paste a smile to my face, even though this tree reminds me
of everything that is and was her mother.

Once inside the ice cream parlor, we both go to chilled glass display and
pick our flavor for the evening. Mine is always the same, never changes.
Mint chocolate chip, two scoops, in a bowl with sprinkles on top. She’s
more adventurous with her flavors, and this evening is no different. She
orders a kid-size bowl and asks for a scoop of bubble gum ice cream and
drizzles it with chocolate syrup.

“Kid, what kind of atrocity are you putting in your body?” I say,
laughing. Giving me one of her contagious giggles, she grabs a spoonful
and pushes it to me. “Nuh-uh… not happening. I am good with what I have,
thank you very much.”

“Oh, come on, Daddy. Don’t be such a party pooper. You always get the
same thing. It's boring,” she teases and the only thing I can do is to smile
and shake my head in disbelief at how smart she is. This time, when she
offers me the spoonful of ice cream, I accept it and immediately regret my
decision.

“Ugh… Sorry, kid, that’s all yours… I’ll stick to my boring ice cream.”
She laughs again, and we eat the rest of our ice cream in content silence.

Once at the car, Ev notices the tree and stares at it in pure amazement, as
if she can't believe something that beautiful exists in real life. “Wow,
Daddy, this tree looks like it belongs in a fairy tale,” she says with a dreamy
look in her eyes that makes me smile.

“Yes, honey, it sure does. Maybe for bedtime I’ll read you the story of
The Willow Tree and its Fairies.” It’s one of Everly’s favorite stories that
Willow, in her creativeness, made up. Now it’s left for me to tell her.

She nods with excitement. “Let’s go home and get ready for bed, Daddy.
I am so excited for story time.”

The drive home is short and sweet with laughter and random questions
about how each other’s day was and what she did at daycare. The answer
never changes. “I played with my friends,” but today she also adds, “And
learned to count to ten, Daddy.”

“Oooohhhh, that’s awesome, Ev. Why don’t you count for me then?”
“Ok, Daddy. Ready?”
“Yes, honey, I’m ready.”
“Here we go,” she says with a smile on her angelic face and starts to
count. “One, two, three, ten—see, I can count to ten.”
I look at her with wide eyes through the rear-view mirror. “What
happened to the numbers in between three and ten?” I can’t hide my
amusement as a little chuckle escapes me.
“Ugh… They all got sick, Daddy, that’s why they had to be left behind.”
Her logic makes me laugh, and this time she joins, too.
When we come home, she takes her hat, mittens, boots, and jacket off
and runs to her room. She goes rummaging in her princess bookcase and
finds The Willow Tree and its Fairies for me to read. We do our nightly
routine of bathroom duties, brush teeth, brush hair, change into pajamas,
and settle into her double bed with the princess sheets for story time.

 

The Willow Tree and its Fairies

 

Once upon a time, in a faraway forest where all creatures lived happily
and harmoniously with each other, there were three good fairies. These
fairies each had a little cove in an ancient Willow Tree. This tree was so old
that its long green branches almost touched the ground.

Every springtime, little white flowers bloomed on the branches, and the
fairies came out to play on them. They would jump from one branch to
another, and giggle and giggle endlessly when the little white flowers tickle
their noses….

Page 1

 

Before I can even turn the page, I realize Ev’s already fallen fast asleep,
so I give her a feather-light kiss on her temple, cover her up in her favorite
blanket, and turn the light off behind me.

I settle on the couch in the living room for a few minutes to relax and
reflect on the day’s events. Even though I had the best time with Ev tonight,
I still can’t seem to be able to get her “fairy godmother” out of my mind.

The funny thing is, the boys and I usually don’t go to that specific
Starbucks. It’s too far from our worksite. We’re frequent attendees of the
Tim Horton’s a stone’s throw away from where we work. However, this
morning Jake informed us we had to go to Starbucks because the new
barista is hot and he “would like to charm the pants off her.” His words, not
mine. After many discussions and bribing on his part, we all agreed to
follow his lead and take a shorter coffee break. Let me tell you, I was
thankful we decided to go out of our way when I saw her come out of the
bathroom.

Those jade green eyes first stared at me in annoyance because my crew
and I pushed her stuff away and made ourselves comfortable at her table.
The cascade of blonde curly hair fell onto her shoulders as she mentally
readied herself to tell us off. And then recognition and wonder in her eyes
bloomed because she couldn’t place where she knew me from. Then finally
the shock on her face, her small pink lips parted halfway in a soft “oh”
when I finally revealed myself to her by calling her “fairy godmother.” I
could almost hear her thoughts buzz in her mind when we left the coffee
shop.

I hoped she would come racing out the door and demand answers and
introduce herself in the process, but there’s always tomorrow…

Now that I know where she goes for her coffee, I’ll be a frequent flyer
there.

Since I no longer have any adult responsibilities, whether it’d be to
wake up early to get ready for a nine-to-five job or to show up to said job
on time, I decide to stay in bed as long as I can. When I can’t bear it one
more minute, I make my way out and get ready for my day of well-
organized stalking.

I take my time in the steaming hot shower and decide to check social
media while air drying on my bed. When my body temperature returns to
normal and I start feeling the slight chill, I pick out a pair of skinny jeans
and a long-sleeved black shirt and get dressed. After putting on a minimal
amount of makeup, which consists of pink lip balm and mascara, I deal with
my bird’s nest of curls, tying them top of my head in a messy bun with the
promise of turning it into a frizz ball later on.

I go in front of my full body length mirror and take a look at the final
product. Casual and cute with a hint of playfulness. I love the effect of pink
lip balm and the subtleness of it, along with black mascara that brings out
my big green eyes even more. It’s almost always the hair that gives me the
most trouble, but today, even that has a fun flair to it…so far, anyway.

I pack my laptop, my notes from the day before, and my agenda full of
to-do lists into my oversized pink purse, grab my light coat and put it on,
sling the world’s heaviest purse known to mankind over my shoulder, and
head out the door to the coffee shop. The walk to Starbucks is short but
since the weather has started to turn, it’s crisp. I make a mental note to put
my mittens by the door when I get home so my hands will be nice and
toasty on my walk tomorrow.

Even though I want to drop my bag and set up right away so I get the
same table, my frozen hands have other plans. I order my regular black
coffee and while they’re getting it ready, I (luckily) set my supplies up on
the same table.

With my coffee in hand, I get back to my table and open my agenda to
itemize today’s to-do list.

1. Make sure all the available tables in the coffee shop are filled up

2. If necessary, grab people from the street to fill those tables

3. Make reserved signs and put them on the table I’m sitting at

4. Make sure Monty sits next to you

 

I look at my to-do list and hang my head in shame. I’ve actually turned
into a world-class stalker, and I immediately need to burn this page before
anyone else sees the level of craziness. I’m so stuck in my own head and its
craziness that I don’t hear the ding sound the door makes when someone
enters. The only thing that takes me out of my rambling thoughts is the
sound of a full, deep, boisterous laugh coming from somewhere near me.

I looked up to see him and his friends have come in and ordered their
coffees. One of them is chatting up the barista. I realize the laughter is on
his friend’s behalf as the barista doesn’t give him the time of day and goes
on her business. A small smile makes its way onto my lips, and I can’t stop
staring at this marvelous creature of a man. Oh, man, I’m a stalker crazy
lady with a staring problem now… What’s happening to me?

As I try my hardest to avert my eyes and focus on destroying my to-do
list, they make their way to my table and ask if they can join me again.
Stumbling over my words, I manage to get out a, “Yes, of course,” and
make sure to close the top of my laptop to hide the nonsense within it.

With smiles on their faces, they all start to introduce themselves as if it’s
a part of an elaborate plan to get me to introduce myself. The first one
thrusts his hand at me and says, “Well, this is two days in a row now. We
might as well become friendlier. I’m Jake.”

He’s tall with blond hair and a goatee he probably hasn’t groomed for at
least three weeks. It makes him look a little like a caveman and supports a
mischievous glint in his eyes. He’s cute if you’re into the I’m a bad boy and
I know it look.

I realize I’ve just been studying him rather than shaking his hand, so I
smile and grab his hand in a gentle shake. “Hi, Jake, I’m Skylar, currently
unemployed, dreamer and entrepreneur extraordinaire.”

My introduction gets a laugh out of him and a few chuckles from the
other two at the table. I look at Monty expectedly for him to introduce
himself, but his other friend beats him to it.

“Hi, Skylar, I’m Colton. I work with these two dingoes. Well, I suppose
I shouldn’t call my boss a dingo if I want to continue to work for him.”

I chuckle as Monty claps him on the back and smiles. “Yeah, Colt, you
really shouldn’t call your boss names when he’s around.” He thrusts his
hand out to me with a smile. “Well, we finally get to officially meet. Skylar,
it’s nice to meet you. I’m Carter, but these dingoes call me Monty.”

I laugh at him and shake his hand. He motions for Jake and Colt to get
lost with his chin and makes himself more comfortable at the table. “Hey,
how’s your coffee? Would you like a refreshment?”

My coffee is still full. I haven’t even touched it, but I’m sure it’s ice-
cold at this point. “Sure, Carter, thank you. Just a drip coffee, black please.”

He looked confused as if he was expecting me to order something with a
million shots of vanilla, caramel, and sprinkles on it. I smile at his confused
expression and shrug. “I like the strong and bitter taste of a good coffee.”

He nods with understanding. “Touché.”
While he leaves to get us our fresh coffees, I appreciate the tall figure,
wide shoulders, and best-looking ass I've ever seen in a pair of overalls. Oh,
man, this guy's got muscles for days. When he makes his way back to the
table with our drinks, I realize I just got caught ogling him. As I turn a
lovely shade of red, his ocean-blue eyes light up in amusement and that
dimpled smirk shows up again. Ladies and gentlemen, I’m pretty sure I'm
drooling at this point.
Carter sits down and hands me my coffee, still smiling over me very
openly checking out his backside but doesn't say anything. We take our first
sips of delicious drip coffee in silence. I’m the first to break it.
“Soooo, Carter… It’s so nice to finally have a name for Cinderella’s
father. How old is she, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“My little Everly, she’s three years old. She’s my everything.”
His declaration of love for his daughter makes me smile. There is
nothing sexier than a good father who’s not afraid to declare his love for his
daughter.

He smirks as if he knows the thoughts that went through my mind.
“Ummm… did I just say something out loud?”

He gives me a little smile. “No, you didn’t, but your face can’t hide your
emotions as well as you think,” he says with a wink.

The beginning of a hot blush creeps onto my cheeks. I didn’t want to be
this transparent, but if I’m going down for my thoughts, I’ll go down
blazing. I open my mouth to say, “You know,” and to my surprise, he also
says the same thing at the same time, and we burst out laughing at the
familiar oddness of the moment. He motions for me to go ahead.

“I was just going to say that I really enjoyed meeting you for the second
time and would really like to see you again.”

With a smile and a wink, he teases, “You stole my line, Skylar.”
I have no response other than a small giggle that escapes my lips. Oh,
God, now I’m giggling like a schoolgirl over this guy. Before I can finish
giving myself a mental lashing for gushing so hard for him, he looks at his
watch.
“Time flies when you’re having fun. I need to get back to work but,” he
slides a piece of paper across the table, “here’s my number. Call me
sometime, if you want.”
The men soon shuffle out. With a victorious smile on my face and the
searing blue eyes in my mind, I opened my laptop once again and get back
to creating an actual to-do list to start my workday.

1.      Create a business plan

2.      Make an appointment with the bank for investment opportunities

3.      Talk to a real estate agent to learn more about the property

4.      Talk to a lawyer about starting a business

5.      Talk to the library to see who their supplier is and where they get

their products

6.      Go to IKEA.

7.      Grocery shop.

I can't just live off coffee and dreams… Hmmm, speaking of dreams.
Carter Monty and those piercing blue eyes. Ugh! Get a grip, woman…

 

I walk through the door to our basement suite and fling myself onto the
couch. This day may have started good with meeting Skylar, but the rest of
it was frustrating. The windows in the apartment building my crew and I are
building were scheduled to arrive by noon, but they were three hours late in
delivery. Rumor has it, they got held up at customs. Whatever… Worst of
all, the genius who took the measurements for the windows took them
wrong, so the delivery had to be sent back, and now the project is being
held up for at least two weeks by windows.

While sulking on the couch and thinking nothing could restore my good
mood, a ding comes from my phone.

–Hi Carter, its Sky. Just dropping a line to see how your day was.—

I immediately add her number on my phone under Fairy
Godmother/Skyler and respond to her text.

Hey there. Let’s just say I preferred the beginning of the day to the rest
of it, but it is what it is. I’m currently sitting on the couch and sulking before
I have to pick Everly up from daycare.

Not even a minute passes before she responds.

–Oh no! ☹ What happened? Hope you didn’t get in trouble for taking a
longer coffee break…—

I shift on the couch, getting comfortable.

Haha. You’re forgetting I’m the boss… So, no worries there. ☺ Just a
delivery problem that’s all, going to put my project 2 weeks behind. Enough
about me and my sulkiness, how was your day—and to see how she feels
about the nickname, I try it out—Fairy Godmother?

—Gotcha! LOL good one. ☺ My day was well. I’ve finally took the first
steps to set up my own business and am ready to take on the world, one
book and beer at a time. ☺—

Hmmm… That sounds interesting, what’s your business about?

I watch the three dots moving across the screen while she types her
answer and grab the tv remote to turn the news on for a few minutes.

—Well… Maybe another coffee date, and I’ll tell you all about it. What
do you say? ;)—

I find myself grinning like a schoolboy texting the girl he likes.

You did it again and stole my line. :-) But yes, I’d love another coffee
date, that being said…. How about a longer date next week, and we’ll have
some dinner?

Do you like tacos?

I regret the text and the way I asked her out by text message
immediately after I hit send. Why don’t phones have a recall button for
premature text messages? I wait anxiously for her response; the three dots
keep appearing and disappearing on the screen… As I nervously start
typing another text message, my phone finally dings with her reply.

—I love tacos, and this idea. I'll bring the wine and sparkling juice for
Miss Everly. :-) Send me the details.—

I release the breath I’ve been holding since I hit send on that message.

I’ll tell you the details over coffee tomorrow. ;)

—Hah ☺ perfect. See you then.—

Now in a better mood, I check the clock on the cable box and decide I
have time for a quick shower and change of clothes. Once ready, I hop into
my Toyota Tacoma and head over to daycare. The windows of Ev’s room
face the parking lot, and they keep the blinds open for natural light. I take
my usual spot in the parking lot facing right into Everly's classroom and see
her smiling, round face. She's still got that baby chub going on in her
cheeks. With those big brown eyes and brown curls, she belongs in a
toddler magazine. My pretty girl.

I get out of my truck, shut the door behind me, and tap on the glass of
the window to earn another smile from her. I catch a glimpse of her
bouncing around in excitement while I walk to the main entrance to swipe
my keycard and pick her up.

On the way home, we decide it should be a make your own pizza and
movie night tonight. After a stop at the library and one at the grocery store,
we make our way home. Ev is still animatedly telling me about her day
while I get the groceries unloaded and pull out our individual-size round
stone pizza cookers.

"...so I told April, and she wouldn't believe me forever, and then we had
a fight, and I was sent to the naughty girls’ corner…"

Now that catches my attention. "Excuse me, did you just say you got
into a fight in school and got sent to the naughty girls’ corner?”

Her response is ready before I can even get another word in. "But,
Daddy, she wouldn't believe me about the fairy godmother, and I told her
and told her that she is real. She called me a liar, so I pushed her."

I look at my daughter in shock. "Everly, that's not how we resolve
conflict. If someone says or does something you don’t like, you use your
words, not your fists."

She averts her eyes and looks to the ground, knowing she's about to be
in big trouble. "I'm sorry, Daddy. I'll do better next time." And with that, she
gives me a big smile and adds, "Let's make some pizza."

I laugh at her enthusiasm and inform her there'll be a punishment for her
behavior later in the form of no story time before bed tonight, as that’s one
of her favorite things to do. But for now, we can have fun and make our

pizzas. I turn on YouTube and search Taylor Swift, and we get to making
our pizzas while dancing to “Shake It Off.”

After we assemble and cook our pizzas, it's finally time to set our movie
up in the living room and dive into our food. Everly decided to get out of
her comfort zone of plain cheese pizza and added some pepperoni and
pineapple to her pizza, and I decided to do a BBQ chicken pizza with a hint
of hot sauce.

Ev brings the TV trays out as I slice the pizzas and put two slices on
each plate then grab glasses of water for both of us. We get settled with
Frozen. At this point, I'm sure both Ev and I can recite this movie from
memory, but she likes it so we watch it. Halfway through the movie, Ev's
lost all interest in the movie and is just playing with her food now, so I tell
her about my day.

"Hey, Ev, guess what happened today?"
She looks at me with a bored expression on her face. "What, Daddy?"
"Well, I went to the coffee shop with the boys and saw someone…" I'm
being specifically vague because I don't know how she's going to react to
the news that I've invited Skylar to dinner with us. She looks at me with
expectant eyes and does a hand gesture for me to continue. "Well,
remember that lady who found yo—"
Before I even get a chance to finish what I’m about to, Ev jumps out of
her seat and starts bouncing up and down, yelling, "Fairy godmother!”
I laugh at that because what else can I do. "Well, she does actually have
a name, and it’s Skylar. And I invited her over here for taco night."
I look at her questioningly to see how she feels about this, but she's way
too excited to care about anything, and all she says is, "Yes, taco night with
fairy Skylar!"

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about our text message exchange for
the past week. The big date is tomorrow, and I’m giddy with excitement.
After grabbing a refreshing cold beverage out of the fridge, I head to my
favorite spot in my condo, the patio/sunroom.

I installed glass windows onto my patio so I can use it as freely as I
want in the winter as I would in the summer. And since it's all covered and
I'm on the tenth floor of a high-rise, I have my bookshelves set up in there
as well. There's a small electric fireplace I sometimes turn on just for
ambiance and a couple of big comfortable chairs with ottomans.

I open my beer, settle in on one of my chairs, and pull out my phone to
FaceTime my mother. Since the last time I talked to her a few days ago, so
many things have happened in my life, and I need to pick her brain.

Before retirement, my mother was a very successful business owner.
She ran a tea shop in Cochrane. She created her own blends and infused her
own tea. She even had a corner set up for weekly visits from different
mediums, tarot readers, tea leaf readers, what have you.

I loved my mother’s store. It was located in the main street of Cochrane,
right on the corner from the flower shop. My mother always had a fresh
bouquet of flowers on the counter by the cash register, and each bouquet
would be based on her mood that week. She always said, "You always
finish the week the same way you start it, so wake up happy, Skylar, and
keep only goodness around you."

She wasn't your regular tea shop lady at all. She had notebooks filled
cover to cover with recipes. Yes, recipes for teas. Teas to help you sleep,

help you calm down, light up your spirits, open up your chakras, even ones
for helping with blockages in one's mind.

When I was younger and less cynical, I would always go along with her
on the weekends to pick wild berries, rosemary bushes, pine needles and
even dandelions. Each time we picked an ingredient, she would tell me to
thank nature for providing us with the source of health and wellness. Then
we would pack up and head home, so she could get her tools ready to make
her special recipe of the week. Each recipe would end up on the tea shop's
many shelves, in a glass jar for her customers to look, hold, and smell. I
wish she hadn't sold the shop when she retired.

My decision to start my own business will excite her, and she’ll
definitely know which step I need to take first. At this point, Google is just
providing me with conflicting information, and I'm getting frustrated and
confused.

I pull my FaceTime app, find her smiling picture, and click on it. She
picks up after the third ring, just as I’m about to hang up and try my father.
My mother has never been shy about her body or herself, and it shows one
more time when she answers with her hair wrapped in a towel, wearing
nothing but her fuzzy bathrobe and steam literally rising off her body.

"Ugh, Mom, go put some clothes on please," I whine to the screen.
"Hello to you, too, Sky… remember, honey, you came out of this body,
nothing to be ashamed of here."
If only I had the confidence she has at the age of fifty-nine. "You’re
right, but still, go put some clothes on before you get cold, please," I huff at
her.
In classic fashion, she rolls her eyes and hands the phone to my dad. "I'll
be right back."
My dad takes the phone and looks at me. "Hey, my beautiful girl, how
are we today?" he says in his boisterous voice.
"Hi, Dad, I'm doing great, thanks. There are so many things going on, I
wanted to call and pick your and Mom’s brains a bit. But that can wait for a
minute. How are you doing, Daddio?"
He flashes me his bright, boyish smile. "Ahh, things are great, honey."
My dad, though in his late sixties now, doesn't look a day older than
fifty-five. He's always been an active person, and now he has his fishing.
I'm assuming from the enormous smile on his sun-kissed face, fishing went
well today.

"So is it safe to say you caught some fish today?"
He takes the phone to the kitchen, props it up on the counter, and grabs
two monstrous-sized chinook salmons. "Twenty-two pounders, both of
them."
I smile at the obvious pride in his voice. "Wow, those are huge… what
do you plan on doing with them? Filet? Keep them full? Eat them right
now? Freeze for when I come to visit? I vote for the last option, by the
way." I take a sip of my cold Belgian brew.
He chuckles. "Of course, we'll save some for you so we can all have
some together, but before that happens, I need to go clean these monsters."
Then he adds, "The cats and I are best friends these days. They even come
on the boat with me in hopes of a fresh meal."
Oh, the cats. If there’s anything us O'Connors love, it’s our cats. We
have three cats, two of which live with my parents and apparently like to go
fishing now, and one lives with me.
Mr. Cupcake was my first cat. My parents adopted him when I was five,
and at that time, there was nothing I liked more than cupcakes, so I named
him Mr. Cupcake. He's your typical gray and white cat.
Now Flowerbush is everything Mr. Cupcake is not. She's gray with
white spots, almost like a dalmatian. She's totally crazy. She's one of those
cats that'll decide it's okay to run marathons around the house at all hours of
the night and sleep all day. I can totally see her go fishing on a boat and
loving life.
Now Mustachio—yes, yes, I named my cat Mustachio—he’s full gray
except for a little white spot just around his lips, hence the name Mustachio.
He lives with me and is my companion through life.
I laugh and just shake my head at the ridiculousness of my cats just as
my mom comes into the view. "Hi, honey, how are you?"
I smile at her. "Hi Mom. Bye, Dad, go have fun with your cats and
fishes.” I wave at my dad through the screen and continue. “I wanted to talk
to you about something, actually, to pick your brain on a business matter."
"Oh, this is exciting. Do go on."
I get up from where I’m sitting and nervously pace in my sunroom
while explaining. "I told you I was going to research some options for me to
do after I quit my job. On the way to the coffee shop, I saw a ‘for rent’ sign
on an old salon by my condo and when I was wracking my brain about what
to do with my future, an idea came to me."

"Hmmm, I'm liking what I'm hearing so far."
Still pacing, I zero in on my cold drink, take a sip, and continue. "So
you know how much I love books and beers? I'm toying with the idea of
starting my own business. I want a ‘Books & Beers Around the World’
joint. It'd be like a mixture of a bar and a library. What do you think?"
I can visibly see the pride and excitement in her eyes when she
responds, "This is the best news ever. Now a couple of things… First of all,
don't rent but own, and—"
I cut her off. "I don't have that kind of money to own…"
"Skylar, manners. Don't cut me off,” she scolds. “I was just about to add
that the renter in the tea shop is leaving town, so my shop will be available
for you."
I'm flabbergasted. "I thought you'd sold the shop."
She smiles. "I've only rented it out to the snowboarders, and now they’re
moving somewhere else. So if you want it, I'll sign the shop over to you and
it'll be yours."
I can't decide if I want to jump for joy, scream with excitement, or just
burst into tears. Maybe all three. "That's too much. I couldn't just do that."
"Oh, yes you can. Don't be silly. I know how much you love that shop
and now it'll be yours. Besides, this'll save me from all the maintenance I
still have to deal with."
Finally spotting my pacing, I sit back down on the leather chair. "Wow, I
don't know what to say… Thank you so much. Wow, I'm a business owner."
She continues. "Next thing you need to do is to register your business
and start talking to your suppliers. Oh, oh, and don't forget to do all that
social media stuff. You know, create a website, Facebook and Instagram and
Twitter accounts to advertise your business. And while you're taking care of
your side of the business, I'll call my lawyers and get started on the
paperwork."
I'm writing furiously while she's telling me all the things I need to do,
and ideas start running around in my mind like wildfire. "Sweet. Thanks,
Mom. I owe you big time. But for now, I need to go because my mind is
buzzing with a million ideas and I need to start on all these things."
"All right, sweetheart, I love you and will call once the paperwork is
ready for your signature."
We say our goodbyes and hang up. I jump up and down like a five-year-
old who's so excited they can't contain themselves. I'm singing and dancing

when I hear the knock on the door. I twirl around the furniture as I head to
the door and open it to see my best friend, Jen.

She huffs when I open the door. "Finally, I've been standing here
listening to your awful singing voice and knocking until my knuckles got
raw."

"Oh, stop being overdramatic." I smile at her, and she responds with her
own smile.

My best friend is a bit of a drama queen. She loves attention and will
seek and get it wherever she can. Behind all that drama, though, she's a
sweetheart and the best best friend a girl could ask for. Jen would move
mountains if I were in trouble. She can make grown men cry. Her fiery red
hair matches her fiery personality, and I love her for everything she is and
isn’t.

Jen walks right into my kitchen, grabs herself a drink from the mini-
fridge, and sits down on the couch. Immediately after she settles down,
Mustachio jumps on her lap and starts purring. Cats are supposedly great
judges of character. They can sense good and evil in a person at a first
glance, and Mustachio has loved Jen since the first time she stepped foot in
my house.

With one hand rubbing Mustachio's finely cut fur, she says, "So... spill.
What's got you so excited and singing and dancing like a lunatic?”

I tell her about my phone conversation with my mother and she’s
ecstatic for me. “That’s amazing, Sky! I love your mom. She’s just way too
cool.”

I laugh at that. “I know, right? I love her very much. But, I have some
other news, too,” I add in a mischievous undertone. I dive into the story of
Carter and Everly, how I met them and, finally, the invite for dinner next
week.

“Wow, all cards are aces these days. I’m so happy for you. Your life’s
finally looking up. Maybe I should go visit this Aubrey person. She might
find a lost shoe and a hot daddy for me as well.”

We laugh at her expense and talk until the late hours of the evening.

Morning arrives too fast after a night full of fun with Jen. But I have a
lot of things to get done today, so I force myself out of bed. I have a
banging headache from last night’s shenanigans, but it’s nothing a Tylenol
can’t fix. I put my sweatpants and sweater on and head to the windows in
my bedroom. I open the blinds to see an ominous gray sky with the promise
of a massive snowstorm. When it will arrive is unknown but I can feel it
coming.

I slowly made my way to the kitchen, get my coffee going, and decide
to stay home to register my business, incorporate it, and get started on my
social media outlets since I can take care of everything online. Once the
smell of freshly brewed coffee hits my nose, I’m ready and alive enough to
open up my laptop and start typing away.

First, I learn about how to register my business. These days, you can do
just about anything online, and registering my business is not an exception.
To be honest, it’s easier than I thought it was going to be. Now the hard part
is to come up with a name that hasn’t already been taken and incorporated
by someone else. I try for a good forty-five minutes to come up with
something clever. Booked All Night? Nope, already taken by a book blog
(clever ladies). Books and Brews? Nope, already taken by a book club.
Booking Brews? Already taken by a catering company…

I’m close to calling it quits when my phone rings with a message. When
I see who the message is from, all the clouds clear from my mind, and I
smile brightly. Carter.

–Hi Skylar, how are you doing?—

Oh, thank God, a distraction from my very daunting task of coming up
with a name for my new business…

—Hmmm, you sound frustrated. Maybe I can help… if only you would
tell me what this business is about…—

I smile. I guess I hadn’t told him yet.

Haha you’re a clever one, aren’t you? All right, I’ll give you the bare
minimum of details, only because I'm desperate for a fresh idea…

—Go ahead. I'm all eyes. ;-)—

I smile at my screen. He’s just so cute.

Haha, i see what you did there, very cute. All right, I'm starting a books
and beers shop, where the old tea shop used to be. And my problem is, all
the names I've been coming up with have been taken already. I need a
clever name. I thought of Booked All Night but that's taken. Books and
Brews but that's taken, and Booking Brews and yes that's also taken. So far,
this is where I am at.

A minute or two passes before my phone vibrates again.

–Hmmm, what a great idea. I love it. Does it need to have the word book
or brew in it? Can it be something clever and fun, a play on words maybe?


The pen I’d been twirling in between my fingers hits the table.

Ahhh there it is, a fresh mind. :’) What a great idea.

My phone quickly forgotten, I grab the pen I had dropped, pull my
notebook up, and start tapping the page with the tip of it pen. At first,

nothing comes to me, but then my mind lights up like the Vegas Strip at
night.

“Draft!” I exclaim. That’s the perfect word, works for both beer and
books.

I finally put the pen to good use and write “DRAFT” in capital letters in
the middle of the page, then start writing random words on both sides of
DRAFT and wait for something to pop at me. The First Draft? Nope.
Nobody wants to read or drink the first draft of anything. Big scratch across
The First Draft.

Then I try The Final Draft, and decide I don’t like the word FINAL.
Another big scratch goes across The Final Draft. Just as I go back to
tapping my pen, the name comes to me.

“The Best Draft!”
Yes, that’s it. I give the air a fist-pump and quickly type "The Best
Draft" onto my name search and bingo, we have a winner. The search
comes up as "not found" and I jump on it. I register the name from the
registry’s website and incorporate it immediately. And within minutes, The
Best Draft is officially registered, and we’ve got a name.
Once finished, I text Carter back.

You are a genius. I just registered the name and incorporated it. Its mine
and it’s called “The Best Draft”. You can’t see me right now, but I'm
officially jumping up and down like a five-year-old.

—Hahaha I'm glad to be of assistance Skylar. That’s a pretty clever
name you came up with. About tonight, here's my address: 18 mountain rise
drive. We will see you around 6pm.—

Butterflies fill my stomach.

Perfect, I'll be there with our wine and Ev's kid wine :-)

I glance up from my laptop and realize it's almost one o'clock in the
afternoon and I haven't eaten anything all day. In fact, all I’ve had was three
cups of black coffee. I’m so wired I could climb the walls. I reach the fridge
door to get inspired by what I have, and nothing speaks to me. Next, I open
my Skip the Dishes app and decide to order an avocado and lobster salad

from Mr. Mike's. Thirty minutes later, my salad is in front of me, along with
an ice-cold glass of water, and I'm seated back in front of my laptop.

Now that my business is registered and I've officially got a name for it,
it's time to build the social media aspect. This is the hard part; I know
nothing about creating a website or advertising, but Google is my friend and
it'll teach me.

Three hours of staring at my laptop later, my business has Twitter,
Instagram and Facebook accounts. However, no website. I mean, nobody
mentioned I'd have to write code. I have no idea how to do that and Google
betrayed me by providing too much information.

I don't need fifty different codes for the letter P, Google. I need a code
for how to build the entire darn thing. Well, tomorrow morning, Google and
I have a very daunting date to complete, more like start, this website
building adventure.

I do a quick time check and realize it's about time to start getting ready
to head over to Carter's place. I turn off my laptop. The old girl got a
workout today. I plug it into the charger and head to the shower. One hot
steaming shower later, I feel so much better. I pick my black jeans and pair
them with a snug red sweater and put on my usual barely-there makeup. I
complete the look with a messy ponytail, and I'm ready to get going. I pull
my black knee-high boots on, grab my jacket and one of my more
reasonable sized purses, and out the door I go.

My first stop is the liquor store for a delicious bottle of Merlot, and then
I visit the grocery store for sparkling non-alcoholic wine, then on the road
we go. I type in the address 18 mountains rise drive into my GPS and
follow the directions to Carter's house. My GPS informs me I'll be there in
about five minutes, and butterflies start flapping their wings in my tummy.
I'm as nervous as a schoolgirl who got caught looking at their crush.

At last, I reach my destination, grab my two separate bottles of wine,
and head to the door.

Ev and I are in the kitchen, getting our ingredients out for making our
own tortillas. While she pulls out the tortilla press, I get the flour, salt, and
oil, along with the measuring cups and spoons.

"When is she going to be here, Daddy?" she asks, beaming with
excitement.

I chuckle lowly. "Soon, honey. She'll get here when she gets here. Don't
worry."

"But you said soon five minutes ago." She’s moving from excited to
can't-wait-any-longer whiny fast.

Everly is wearing one of Willow's old aprons that says Kiss Me, I'm the
Cook and has her hair in a ponytail. I had to battle with those tiny hair ties
again. I think I broke three of them before I got one to hold her wild curls
in. Because we were cooking for Skylar, she insisted her hair had to be put
away, because "what if it fell in the food, Daddy?"

I have on the matching apron Willow gave me when we learned she was
pregnant with Everly. It says Kiss Me, I'm a Daddy and makes me smile
each time I look at it.

As Everly starts pacing up and down the corridors of our basement
suite, I realize my mistake. I never told Skylar we live in a basement suite
and my mother lives on the main floor. It's too late now to message her to
warn her about what she's about to face because the doorbell rings,
signaling Skylar is here, upstairs, currently meeting my mother.

Ev runs, screeching, to the door in between our suite and my mom’s
house and pushes it wide open. I catch a glimpse of her blonde curls and the

red top she's matched with the black skinny jeans, and my insides do a
jump. I haven't felt like this about a woman since Willow, and it scares me.

As soon as she opened the door, Ev ran upstairs to greet our guest. It’s
been at least five minutes since Skylar arrived and no one is downstairs yet.
I can hear the three of them talking and laughing upstairs. I think it's time to
go and crash this party. After all, I may have forgotten to mention we live
with my mother, but I still don't want to feed her to the wolves without
landing a helpful hand to get her out of there.

The scene upstairs is nothing but comfort and is not at all what I was
expecting. They’ve all moved to my mother's living room and there’s a
glass of wine in everyone's hands. My mother is sitting next to Skylar, and
Everly is on her other side. They’re pointing at an object lying wide open
on Skylar’s lap and giggling. I clear my throat to announce my existence,
and they all look up at me. My mom and daughter with sly looks, Skylar
with a look that promises nothing but trouble later.

I approach them slowly, as if I’m about to pet a wild animal, trying to
see what’s got them all giggly and realize the photo album on Skylar’s lap.
"Oh, good God, Mom. Why would you pull this old thing out?"

To say I'm mortified would be an understatement. This is the photo
album from when I was in my "I love my naked body" stage. Needless to
say, half the pictures are of me half naked running around when I was five
or six.

My mom just looks at me and smiles, but it's the menacing look and
smile on Skylar's face that says it all. Payback is a bitch. Yes, this was a
ploy on both their part because I forgot to warn her about my living
situation. Alas, all is fair in love and war.

"So, ladies," I address both Everly and Skylar, "if anyone would like to
join me downstairs, we've got tortillas to make."

Ev jumps up and runs downstairs in excitement. This is her favorite
part, making the tortillas. Skylar gets up and gives my mom a hug. "Thanks
so much, Mrs. Montgomery."

"You're welcome, dear, and it was a pleasure meeting you." They wave
at each other and we head back down.

Parenting 101, never trust a toddler. Better yet, never trust a toddler
who's too quiet.

Skylar and I walk into the kitchen to find the entire place covered in
flour with Everly standing in the middle of it. I give her a questioning look.

"Young lady, care to explain what happened in here?"
"Well, Daddy, you see… I saw all the ingredients ready, and all the

measuring cups were sitting out too, and you guys were taking so long…
and I didn't have the patience to wait anymore… so I decided to start
without you, but then I got a sneeze attack and…" She points to the floor
and the counter as if she's asking me to put two and two together and not
make her say it.

I hear a stifled snicker next to me and glance at Skylar. She's turned red
from trying not to laugh so hard and Ev is giving me her usual sheepish I'm
the perfect picture of innocence look. I finally give in and laugh right
alongside them. "Well, missy, how are we going to clean all this up and feed
ourselves and our guest?"

Everly grins. "Leave the mess for later and start a new batch?"
"Oh, we can't do that, little miss," chimes in an amused Skylar. "Why
don't you go and get me the broomstick and you can hold the dustpan while
I sweep the flour into the pan. Sounds like a plan?"         Ev beams at the
suggestion. "Oh, yes! Let's do that, fairy Skylar."
Once the floor is swept and the counter is wiped from the excess flour,
Ev and I try again. I measure the ingredients and hand them to her for her to
put in a bowl and mix. We work in perfect harmony while Skylar watches
us with her glass of wine
"Are you sure there's nothing I can do? I can brown the beef, cut the
lettuce or shred the cheese?" Skylar asks.
Ev looks at her. "All those things are already done; fairy Skylar and you
are our guest. Guests are supposed to sit and relax, not cook and clean.”
''She's right, you know," I chime in.
Skylar lifts her glass up in salute and makes small conversation with us.
"So Everly, how old are you?"
"I'm three years old but almost four." Ev holds her fingers up to show
how many.
Skylar smiles. "Oh, that's awesome. Do you know when your birthday
is?"
Ev gives her a look. "Well, of course, I do. It's in the summer."
Skylar chuckles at this response. "Do you have any friends?"
"I have two!” she exclaims with excitement. “They are awesome. I think
I like April better because she is nice, but I like Eleanor too. She's pretty
cool."


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