Moon over Madeline Island (16 page)

“After lunch let's try and find a fabric store,” I suggest. “There must be one around here somewhere. We could fill the van with crazy patterned material…thread…whatnot and get our butts back to the cottage. This could be a great way to kind of test the waters, so to speak. What could be better than a festival? What?”

“We don't even have a pattern. How can we…?” Ruby asks.

“I'll use your apron. We can take it apart and copy it.”

“Ruby's Aprons is going to be a
smashing
success.” We clink our mugs.

“I sure hope so,” I add. “We've just about stretched our credit to the limit with the bank and with me not behind a chair and then there's the—”

“Eve, darling, what were you telling me just yesterday?”

“That sometimes you have to jump…”

“In order to fly,” Ruby finishes for me.

Okay, I got it, it's one million trillion times easier to give out advice than to be the one that has to, like, do the stuff you're advising. I'm jumping folks! Damn it—I am.

We eat our iceberg-lettuce-crouton-crunchy-dripping-with-blue-cheese-salad with gusto. Then chase it down with way too much coffee so we can hit the road in search of a fabric store. Our waitress, Verna, suggested we try the Wal-Mart in Ashland.

With Ruby at the wheel and Dean Martin crooning “Volare,” the van is pointed south. Heading down Highway 13, we weave our way along Lake Superior, the snaking road presenting us with perfect views of the water.

“I think I have this shifting thing down pat…again,” Ruby proclaims proudly. “You can take your foot off your brake over there.” We laugh.

“I was just helping.” I relax my right leg and give my calf a rub. She's heavy on the gas, but—so am I. “Our first business lunch and this will be our first official business
road trip
.”

“Oh the write-offs, how jolly marvelous,” Ruby adds.

“I haven't ironed out all the details…but it's similar to having a salon, only no clients.”

“No clients, no overbooking, no skipped lunches or perm smell, no hair spray flying…”

“No
kidding
!” I feel liberated. “So far we've managed to gather three employees and one suspicious husband.”

“Don't forget the boys,” Ruby adds. “They've already done so much.”

“I consider them…family.”

“I do too, darling.”

“We're here already?” The
WELCOME TO ASHLAND
sign flies by my window. “I think you should slow down a bit…like soon!”

“Wal-Mart,” Ruby announces. “Precisely where she said it would be.”

Ruby clips the curb heading into the parking lot and just barely manages to miss getting hit by an RV rig trying to leave. We end up taking two parking spaces way in the back. All in all, we arrive in one piece, but my stomach feels as though it's somewhere out on Highway 13, flat on its back.

Wal-Mart is an unattractive cement chunk. Inside, the rows and aisles loom fully stocked and overwhelming as hell. They have
everything,
in every size, shape and color. From hair dryers and popcorn, a book section I'll have to resist, power tools, fuzzy slippers and cat toys. Armed with carts, we head in.

Way off in a distant corner, we find the fabric section. Bolts and bolts of material line the walls, are stacked on tables and shoved underneath. Rolling up our proverbial sleeves, we steer in closer and park.

“How much should we get?” Ruby holds up a bolt of brightly flowered material and wraps it around her waist.

“Any of these—all of them! If it looks like it might brighten up a kitchen, grab it!” I unroll a bolt of neon-yellow daisies being attacked by huge ladybugs—just the thing.

“Haven't you always wanted to shop like this, darling? Come to think of it—you
do
shop like this.” She dumps an armload into her cart; it lands with a nice thump.

“What a riot!” I reach for spools of yellow, pink and green thread. Have I become a consumer junkie? “Do we want buttons on the front pockets? Nah—buttons mean buttonholes; too much work. Dumb idea.”

“Dumb idea,” Ruby echoes. “Sheer stupidity. Could simply sew them on—no hole. Might jazz them up a bit.”

“I agree…big, colorful ones. Look…ruby red.” I toss handfuls of the brightest shades into my cart.

“I can't fit another thing in here, darling. I hope there's not too much aisle traffic—could be dangerous.” She starts to maneuver her cart toward the checkout.

“Hang on there missy—this may take a while. Let's head up the center aisle and be—” I bump into a display of bone-shaped dog chews and helplessly watch them clatter to the floor, making a huge racket. “Shit.”

Ruby rolls her cart over and helps me restack them. We shove on to the checkout.

“You sure you want
all
this girl?” A beautiful black checkout gal asks in a low, syrupy voice right out of Georgia.

She has long corn-rolled braids that are bursting out from under a teal headband; hoop earrings slap her cheeks as she rings up our piles. Her long fingernails click the keypad.

“Can you guess what we're going to make?” I'm thinking, she'll never come close, not in a hundred years.

“Looks to me like…aprons.” She rings up several spools of thread, cool as punch.

Ruby's mouth drops open. “How did you…?”

“Saw your ad in the
Gazette.
You two aren't from here and honey, there's things that I just
know,
is the way it is.” She thumps a bolt of material down. Her name tag says “Sam.” I consider this.

“Good…guess.” I wonder how she knew. Could she be related to Dorothy too? I'm kidding.

“I see…you want both carts rung up together—huh?” She looks at Ruby—who still has her mouth open. I reach over and close it. Sam smiles. “My name is Sam and no”—she looks at me—“it's not a nickname for Samantha. You must be Eve. Nice to meet you.” She gives me a wink.

“Oh heavens yes…yes, this is all together.” Ruby finds her voice. “I'm Ruby.” Both Ruby and Sam say “Ruby” at the same time. My eyebrows arch far into my forehead. Far.

“Don't mean to make you all paranoid—I've had the sight all my life, I should watch my manners though. Didn't mean to offend. I just
know
things. My mama called it ‘the gift.'”

“You could make a fortune….” I think of 1-800-Samsees and imagine dollar signs.

“Never have,” Sam drawls, then mutters, “one-eight hundred” under her breath, chuckling. “Not many folks I share my sight with. I learned a long time ago that most of us need to go through, not around life.” She whips and jerks her hands around with every word. I bet she couldn't say beans if her hands were tied up! I quickly banish this thought so as not to get in trouble.

But I'm thinking, she sure would add to our operation. Not to mention the fact that I feel as though I've met her before. You know, that feeling when someone you've only just been introduced to seems so familiar, comfortable?

“How attached to this job are you?” I hand back the signed slip and help Ruby reload our carts. “Unless you can see our venture falling flat or something.”

“Can't see everything—thank God.” She laughs. “I'm only part-time. I also work over at JJ's Body Shop. Give me a blow-torch and Lord, am I a happy woman.” Her laugh is infectious. It's deep and really true. “I'll give it a thought. Haven't sewn in years…but aprons seem awful simple and it's going to be…”

“What?” we ask at the same time.

“Big. That's all I'm saying.” She grins.

“Either way…Sam,” I say. “Give us a jingle. Let's get together. Our number's in the—”

“The
wrong
number, you mean. I have it right here.” She pulls out the
Gazette
with our ad circled in red. “Was going to call—then I saw you all were coming in and got that this here number isn't quite yours, anyway.”

“Right, of course…” I try like hell to keep my mind clear, empty. Impossible.

“So lovely meeting you, darling,” Ruby offers, giving Sam's hand a light pat, pushing her cart ever so lightly into my rear.

“My pleasure ladies—I'll be in touch.” Sam waves us out the door.

“I
don't know the last time I felt so
peculiar.
” Ruby holds the boathouse screen door open with her hip. “It's not every day you meet someone who already knew you were going to meet
them
, for heaven's sake!”

“I thought the entire experience was like watching a movie and I was off somewhere in the corner observing.” I plop an armload of fabric down on the counter. “Hope she calls…Something about her.”

“She
will
, darling.” Ruby puts her hands to her temple. “I see it.”

“Well, here the two of you are,” Johnny says through the screen door of the boathouse. “Can we come in?”

“What a lovely surprise. Get in here and have a look around,” Ruby says. “We've been out shopping all morning and look!” She holds up a bolt of material with enormous pink flowers.

“Oh man, these are going to look…obnoxious. Where did you
find
all this stuff?” Johnny roots through the fabric Ruby had just finished putting into tidy piles.

“We found more than
this,
I'll tell you.” Ruby and I fill them in on Sam and her “gift” as well as the rest of our adventures in Bayfield.

“I'm impressed with…everything,” Howard says. “Sam sounds intriguing, Lilly will be a hoot and my
God,
things are cooking,” he adds with obvious glee, lifting up some of the bolts of fabric and shaking his head. “Women will want armloads of these.”

“These are like, totally kitsch, Valley-girls,” Johnny says. “This is so on-trend
and
Howard's got the web site coming along
and
I just finished making a cutout of the original Ruby-apron.”

“Let me see those, darling.” Ruby reaches for the cardboard cutouts. “I had no
idea
there were so many parts to an apron.”

“I think some should have pockets—some with wider ties—you know…variations,” I suggest. “The more we make…I'm sure they'll evolve.”

“Johnny, you used your Ouija board box for these?” Ruby shows us the backside of one of the patterns.

“Haven't needed it for years now. Have all the magic I can handle right here.” He drapes his arm around Howard.

“You two…It's getting really thick in here.” I shake my head. “Sure do appreciate all you've done though.”

“Honestly Eve”—Howard comes over and puts his arm around me—“it's been a while since Johnny and I have gotten such a kick out of…well…hanging out. Making things…being involved again.”

“Even though you and Ruby are working us to death,” Johnny adds.

“Of course we are,” Ruby states matter-of-factly. “We've every intention of paying you…both of you. This is a company after all and our intentions are—”

“To be filthy rich,” I throw in. “No…to make enough to cover everything, at
least
in the beginning. Then…who the hell knows? We
do
need to get things in gear, with the booth I've reserved and—”

“Wait a minute.” Johnny holds up a well-manicured hand. “What booth?”

“I rented a booth. During the Bayfield Apple Festival in October. So…we're firing up on Monday. That'll give us well over a month, seeing as today is…I don't even know the day…”

“August twenty-second,” Howard replies. “I think…with just the two of you…and the two of us…we'll need those women you told us about.”

Ruby jumps in. “Then there's the float for the parade. And a schedule for who will work the booth, who will keep the aprons coming, lunches, more fabric, since we'll certainly run out in no time at all and—”

“What have we gotten ourselves into?” Howard asks Rocky, who's staring at us from the top of the fridge.

The boys eventually head back over to their place. I get on the deer-phone and leave messages for Lilly and Bonnie. If they can start next week, that would be awesome. I expect they will, since neither one of them is currently employed.

Just as I reach up to open the screen door and head up to the barn, the deer head rings. Pulling the jaw down, I grab the phone, giving it a good tug so I don't have to stare old stuffed-head in the eye.

“Eve's Salon—I mean…hello?” That's the first time that's happened.

“Hi there. Is this Eve?”

“Yes…who's this?”

“It's Ruby, you nitwit.”

“Ruby? Where the hell are you?”

“Up at the cottage. All the phones here become an intercom if you dial eight, six, two, three, which spells toad, of course. Let's have a chat like old times. I realized the reason the phone doesn't ring like it did in Eau Claire is because we're both here. So…hi.” I hear the familiar exhale and imagine the smoke ring she's just set free.

“You know…you're right.”

“Of course I am, darling. How's it coming down there?”

“Looks wonderful…I hadn't realized you'd snuck off. I was scouring the bathroom sink.”

“I should think it was a bit of a mess…you poor darling.”

“Those iron stains are not going anywhere.”

“Eve…things have gotten so stirred up, in a good way, mind you. The boathouse is beginning to look like what we thought it would, only a hell of a lot better and who knew?”

“No kidding.” I nod to the deer head. “Not to mention the band of women we've hired. What a riot.”

“I
do
hope they all show up,” Ruby says. “If the Apple Festival proves to be a success…well I'd say—we're in business.
If
I do say so myself…and I
do
.”

“If we make these babies really well—you know, quality stitching and all, catchy label, affordable price that's not
too
affordable—I'd say we're onto something. Or…we could get laughed out of town.”

“Let 'em laugh,” Ruby says.

“That, my dear, is exactly what we'll do. You're a genius.”

“True, so true. Hey…I like these sketches you left up here for a label,” Ruby says. “Seems like
your
name should be on it too though.”

“Ruby's Aprons is simple. Has a nice ring to it…without trying to be too cute.”

“I must admit, I've always
loved
my name.”

“Me too,” I say. “I love the
color
ruby, too. Wish my hair was still…but that's a whole other story. How about meeting me at the barn? I could use some help.”

“Delighted.”

“Delighted?” I ask the deer head.

Letting go of the phone, I watch as it flies up, a blackened tongue finding its way home. The screen door slaps shut behind me. Turning back, I peer through the mesh into the boathouse. Piles of bright floral material are heaped on tables and chairs. A shiny chrome percolator coffeepot and mugs wait in readiness on the counter, and spools of thread are stacked in the shape of a pyramid, compliments of Johnny. There's still a lot to do, but it's taking shape.

I take the wooden stairs down two at a time. Whistling, I walk up and around the cottage heading toward the barn. I can see the outline of Ruby standing in the barn's open doorway, hands on hips.

“Don't you look nice,” I sputter, a little out of breath.

She's changed into a long gray dress that hangs clear to her ankles. Silver bracelets clang as she waves.

“Thought you'd never get up here,” she says and smiles. “Had a lovely chat with a dear old friend of mine earlier. I was inspired—here.” She hands me a framed napkin.

“What the…oh man. Should be worth millions one day,” I say. It's the one from Maggie's, with the “Ruby's Aprons” logo I drew on it. A pink flamingo winks from a corner and my lipstick marks an O on the bottom. It's a simple sketch, really, an old-fashioned tie-at-the-waist apron, the ties floating out on either side, with a floral print design and “Ruby's Aprons” written in retro-style letters.

“While we were chatting, I remembered you framing my check that I wrote you the first day you opened Eve's Salon. I was so flattered…a little embarrassed too. I just thought…” She stammers a bit and I'm all the more touched.

“Thank you. This is great. Who knows where it will lead. You have to admit, so far it's been smooth sailing.” I turn the frame over and read what Ruby's written: “To my dearest friend in the whole world—that's you, Eve—even way up here you've managed to make the sun shine a little brighter. Thank God all those years ago you had the good sense to say, ‘I have time for you.' Love, Ruby.” I sigh, feeling all mushy.

“Now then…” Ruby moves things along with her brisk manner. “The boys will be over in a bit so you should hustle on upstairs—take a nice hot shower, throw on a favorite frock and let's celebrate!”

“Are you saying that I smell?”

“Good heavens, yes—stink is more like it, darling.”

“Don't hold anything back, you old…” I grin. “I
did
want to haul a table down and grab some other stuff, but I can have the boys help tomorrow. Maybe we can take the duck out for a spin tonight.”

“Sounds lovely, darling. Now come along.” She turns me around and we head toward the back door.

 

Pulling on a sweater and khakis, I glance at my reflection in the mirror. Rocky's lounging on my bed with not a care in his furry head. I wind my hair up and shove several pencils in the twist for good measure. Dab on lip gloss and feel revived. I grab Rocky and we head down the stairs, following our noses into the kitchen.

“Hey—look at you,” Ruby tosses a huge salad in one of her mammoth bowls. “Be a love and pour us some wine.”

“My pleasure.” I set Rocky on the floor. “What smells so tasty? I'm famished.”

“That must be the garlic bread I'm warming.” We clink our goblets and take a sip. “We're having salad with smoked salmon and homemade cilantro dressing.”

“Sounds delicious.” I sit down on a stool and spin. “Feels good to sit. I love being this tired—when I do get to rest, there's not as much guilt involved.”

“Does make you appreciate the simple things: like being cooked for, cleaned up after and…get off your rear and come over here and open this!” She points to the salmon wrapped tight-as-a-drum in saran wrap.

“Right.” I carefully open drawers in search of a scissors. I do not want any more surprises leaping at me.

“It's going to be lovely having a job again,” Ruby remarks over the drone of her electric mixing stick. “It's been years and I'm
so
looking forward to it.”

“Me too. But you know—why is it that I can't be happy to just
sit?
All our lives we complain about…well just about everything and yet when I have a block of time to myself…I'd much rather be busy.”

“Gives us structure, I should think. Having things to do. But too much work…Perhaps that's what's making people nowadays so miserable.” She comes at me with a spoon to sample the dressing.

“I think you're right.” I smack my lips in approval. “When I used to listen to clients, I was shocked by their work schedules. Late nights, weekends, carting kids around, no time to cook. A few of them—the at-home moms—they always seemed the happiest.”

“I'd like to think that maybe the world is heading back to what you and I are heading into.” She adds a pinch of something.

“You mean working at home? Or working together? Or…”

“Yes, to it all, darling. More than anything though…doing things together, sharing all the things that make a home. The simple act of making a meal together…chatting; I love the chatting.”

“I do too.”

“I don't think
he
was invited.” Ruby reaches up to remove a spider hanging off one of the pencils in my hair and escorts it out the door.

She returns with Howard and Johnny, who are looking handsome, smelling fresh and clean. I get pecks on either cheek.

“Hey you two, great timing!” I hand Rocky to Johnny, then load Howard's arms up with plates and napkins.

“Guess the honeymoon is over,” Howard says. “Where shall we dine tonight?” I push him out into the living room.

“Out on the porch; the sunset is just beginning,” I suggest. “Get busy and set a nice table. Honeymoon! You and Johnny are going to be working so hard, you won't have time to complain.”

“I brought a couple more cardboard apron patterns,” Johnny says to no one in particular.

“Wonderful.” I reach for them. “I've appointed myself chief fabric-cutter. I figure I can cut a mean haircut, so fabric shouldn't be
too
hard. The ladies and you can assemble.”

“You're a mastermind,” Johnny chides.

“True.”

“This is fantastic!” Howard holds up the framed napkin with “Ruby's Aprons” on it. “It's great for the logo and the story behind it will personalize the Web site.”

“It is lovely, isn't it,” Ruby agrees. “You don't think it should say Eve and Ruby's or Eve's Aprons or—”

“
I
think it's charming.” Howard grins. “Simple, old fashioned and besides, old names are in again.”

“
Old
names?
old?
” Ruby stands there with the devil in her eyes and a loaded mixer in her hand.

“Oh boy…did I just put my size fourteen in my mouth again?” Howard asks, laying an arm around Ruby, pulling her close.

“I
love
the name,” I comment quickly. “It's important to keep it simple. How about a toast to the official naming of our lakeside factory. Then let's talk about something
else
for a while.”

“To Ruby's Aprons! To the birth of a brilliant concept in ladies' ready-to-wear
and
to three wonderful friends,” Ruby says. We clink and sip, then I re-pour and we all sit around the stump table except for Ruby, who's tending the loaf of bread in the oven.