Patchwork People XVIII Beauty and the Beast
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Patchwork People VIII: Snowballs In Paradise. free porn video
VIII. Snowballs in paradise.
Grace was unpacking a snow-globe collection from all fifty states that
Mavis Pritchard had brought into the shop the day before.
"Look at this," she said, holding one up with a hula girl and a palm tree
inside. "There's even one from Hawaii. "Hmph. Snow in Hawaii. Who would
imagine something like that?"
"Someone who'd never been to Hawaii?" Marcia suggested.
Grace turned the globe over. "Made in China. Well that explains it, I
guess."
She gave it a shake and watched the snow falling over the half-naked hula
girl. "I'm thinking these have to be sold as a set. What do you think?"
"Meaning, of course, that they aren't likely ever to be sold at all,"
Marcia said. "Who's going to buy fifty snowglobes?"
"Well, money isn't everything. It might be everything everywhere else,
but not here at the Blue Cat."
It was true. Grace hadn't opened the Blue Cat to make money. Why, she
opened it, though, wasn't exactly clear to Marcia in the beginning. She
was shocked when she started. A week must have passed before she saw
anyone actually buying something. Most of their time was spent
rearranging displays of items no one ever wanted, chatting with each
other and the occasional walk-in, who was more often than not also one of
the sellers who supplied the store with their goods on consignment.
Grace hadn't ever put her reasons for operating the Blue Cat into so many
words. But as Marcia came to understand, this seemingly profitless
puttering and socializing was itself the main reason for opening the
shop. For Grace, the Blue Cat was a means to stay engaged with life, and
to give the oddball collection of eccentrics and outcasts and shut-ins
who dropped by a much-needed place to be engaged in life, too.
Marcia was laying out the day's cookie selection: chocolate-almond
biscotti still warm from the oven that morning.
Grace gave the snow-globe another brief shake. She peered inside once
again at the smiling, half-naked girl in the hula skirt. "Well, it's a
pretty fantasy anyway."
"I got another message from Phoebe. She says that her mother had a
stroke."
"Oh my," Grace said, putting the snowglobe down on the counter. "That's
awful news. How bad was it? "
"I don't know," Marcia said. "This was in a text message, which is the
only way Phoebe seems to communicate. I tried to call but she doesn't
answer. I suppose I'll get more information when she arrives. But for
now, it's just these terse uninflected factoids, scattered crumbs of info
on a need-to-know basis."
"I see."
"I'm afraid it must be fairly bad, though, or chances are she wouldn't
have been desperate enough to seek me out clear across the country. She
mustn't have anywhere else to turn."
"She must be very scared," Grace said, after a thoughtful silence.
"Phoebe, I mean."
Marcia nodded.
"She'll need to feel connected to something...to someone."
"And I'm it?"
"Well, of course. You should take this in the best possible sense."
"How's that?"
"In a shipwreck, when it really counts, the deeper current still runs
back to you. That may not seem like much, but, really, it's everything."
"I guess that's one way to look at it. Any port in a storm." Marcia hated
how bitter and churlish she sounded.
"What's so bad about that? To be a home, I mean. Marcia, listen. I know
that you feel as if you didn't matter and never mattered to Phoebe. But
you were wrong. Yes, you were a spare tire, of sorts. Only to be used in
case of an emergency. So? You always wanted to be a parent to Phoebe, but
this is precisely what a parent is. Someone who is there when their child
needs them."
"I wanted to be there all the time, Grace. In good times, too."
"Of course you did. And you should have been given that chance. But
that's not always in the cards. That's the thank-you not every parent
gets. When she was a baby, you got no thank you, did you? Surely you must
have felt the same as you do now; that you existed only when she needed
you. It must have seemed that way to her, too. She was hungry, you
appeared and fed her. She was wet, you materialized to change her. Five
minutes later she was sleep and you were forgotten. Why should it
essentially be any different now? A parent...a good parent, anyway,
doesn't look for anything back, not even gratitude. That's just a bonus,
if you get it, but not something required. A parent is just there,
always, like a tree to offer shade and shelter."
Grace paused and raised an eyebrow, a mischievous gleam in her grey eyes,
"or, maybe, in your case you're feeling more like a fire hydrant?"
Marcia couldn't help but smile.
"Take the fact that she thinks of you as a person who's better nature she
can abuse as a compliment. Consider it proof that, in the end, you did
your job better than you thought."
"Thank you, Grace."
"You're welcome. I'm very much looking forward to meeting her. Your
daughter."
Marcia's breath caught in her chest at the words: "your daughter."
* * *
Author note: I plan to publish "Patchwork People" in its entirety in
weekly installments here on Fictionmania. In the meantime, the complete
novel is currently available as an Amazon Kindle ebook for $2.99.
For more of my writings, drawings, erotica, and photos please visit my
blog Sissypop!
sissyforlife(dot)blogspot(dot)com.
Pansy
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