Page 201 of The Havenport Collection

Nora

I walked into the store with a spring in my step. My house was in shambles, I was showering at my neighbor/enemy’s, and I still hadn’t raised any capital for my business expansion, but somehow, I felt good. Maybe spending my evenings verbally sparring with Luke was actually good for me.

It was nice to hang out in his house in my sweats and snap at each other while enjoying a series of fantastic dinners. Alone, he was just as snarky and cocky but with a slightly softer edge. There was something deeply satisfying about hanging out with an equal.

I would never admit that, obviously. But after years of shitty dates and unsatisfactory sex, I had given up hope that I could ever find a man that could keep up with me.

Not that I was thinking about having sex with Luke. Of course not. That would be disgusting.

I had high standards and no. Just no.

Recent experience aside, I knew what kind of man Luke Kim was.

He was the type who paraded a new model around town every few months, always making sure to stop by my store and buy her lots of presents.

He lorded himself over us peasants constantly, donating money, sponsoring things, and showing up at all the town events.

People loved him, and it was nauseating.

I didn’t hate him at first. In fact, when he first moved to town five or six years ago, I thought he was charming and attractive. I had fallen under his spell too. I thought there might be something between us, and after a night of flirty banter at the Tipsy Whale he asked me out.

It was only after he stood me up with no explanation that I realized he was just another user. Someone who got off on manipulating people and didn’t care about anyone but himself.

After months of avoiding him, I bumped into him again, and he attempted to apologize, but he had a leggy redhead draped all over him. Just when I was thinking about putting aside my humiliation to talk to him, I saw him leave with her.

I hated admitting how hurt I had been. The hurt felt so fresh, even years later.

I let myself think that someone like Luke could be interested in me and then was totally humiliated when he stood me up and left with someone else.

My Nonna always said, “fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me.” And I knew I would not be giving Luke Kim a third opportunity to disappoint me and make me feel inadequate.

The ensuing years had done nothing to change my mind. He was a pretentious, privileged rich guy who threw money around like it was going out of style. He always had an entourage of tech bros and models to party with. I wished he would just move, torment some other city or town with his presence.

So while the current ceasefire was appreciated during this difficult time, I had no delusions that we would become friends.

I needed to stay focused on my goals. I was going to get my funding and take over the damn world.

And if I had to shower at Lucas’s for a week it wouldn’t kill me.

In fact, he was actually right about something—being around him would just make me stronger.

And I needed all the strength I could get right now.

I walked through the door of Jeanious Bar, admiring the soaring ceilings and bright furniture. This was my happy place. It had taken years, but I was so proud of this store. I headed back to my office, taking note of the new merchandise Gina had put in the window. She really was working out well.

Business had been steady, despite the fact that people preferred to buy on the Internet.

I’d like to think that was because of the experience I created in my store, but retail was so fickle it was hard to tell.

The winter was always slower. We had our regulars, and we held events every month to bring in more customers.

Next month we were having a promotion. Recycle your old jeans and get ten percent off a new pair.

I was working with a denim label that used recycled denim and wanted to raise awareness about fast fashion’s impact on the planet.

We had been spreading the message far and wide, and Dante’s salon was giving eco-friendly manicures to visitors.

I had also been in contact with a local organic winery, and Violet’s farm was providing snacks.

It would hopefully be a great boost for the brand and provide me with lots of fun content for social media.

The entire coven was coming, and I had offered Maggie’s tween daughter, Ava, free merchandise if she helped me organize the packing and shipping of the recycled jeans.

It had been Cece’s idea—most of the good ones were. She was a marketing whiz and the one who made me get serious about social media. So I had her to thank for the expansion potential.

Initially, I had been hesitant to post my ample ass on the Internet.

But Cece argued that people wanted to see clothes on different body types.

So I started posting my outfits along with styling tips.

And recruiting my friends. I would get requests and DMs for particular styles or challenges, and I would create outfits and ideas for people.

I directed business to the Jeanious Bar website, but there was only so much traffic it could handle. Plus, doing all the shipping myself with the help of my staff meant it wasn’t really a sustainable model for me to be operating an online store on my own.

But I had spent years getting to know my customers, and I knew what they wanted.

They wanted to look good and feel good and have lots of options with styling tips and inspiration.

I knew with the right backing I could grow this into something huge.

I could give women the confidence that society so often steals from them.

So I would keep pushing, keep hustling, and hope that I would get a break soon. In the meantime, there was plenty of work to do.

Despite my house and business woes, at least I looked good.

I was wearing a pair of black denim skinny jeans with furry snow boots, a mustard-colored T-shirt that said “On Wednesdays, We Smash the Patriarchy” knotted at the waist, and a long gray cardigan.

I had a few necklaces layered and a headband that matched the color of my T-shirt perfectly.

I snapped some photos in the storage room, where I had some lights and a tripod I had purchased for this reason, and then went out to find Gina. I’d upload these later and tag the sustainable T-shirt manufacturer.

After a quick walkthrough of the accounting software with Gina, my good mood was starting to fade away.

“Just call me if anything comes up. It’s all pretty straightforward,” I explained, smiling.

Gina nodded, her long, dark hair partially obscuring her face. I could do backflips or break out into a soft-shoe routine, and she wouldn’t so much as crack a smile.

I didn’t remember her being so dour—granted, she was seven years younger than I was, so we didn’t exactly grow up together. But I recalled her being smart and athletic and happy as a kid.

My uncle Raf threw her a huge graduation party to celebrate her getting into Caltech. She was some kind of engineering genius, and the entire family was so proud. But eight years in California hadn’t exactly given her a sunny disposition.

“It’s a simple POS system; I think I can handle it.” Hair flick. Gina looked a lot like me—short and curvy with pale skin and dark hair and eyes. She wore all black and had a pseudo-goth aesthetic going on which I respected. But she was not exactly friendly.

I clenched my teeth. Hiring Gina had not been my idea.

She had been in graduate school, doing something complicated and sciencey, but didn’t return after the fall semester.

No one had said why she dropped out or what happened, just that she was back for a bit and needed a job.

Given she had no retail experience, I didn’t think my store was the best option, but then Nonna swung by and gave me the talk.

My Nonna, God love her, was the matriarch of our large and boisterous Italian family. She was tiny, serious, and ruled with an iron fist. She cocked one perfectly penciled eyebrow—I had no idea how her makeup was still so on point in her eighties—and I quickly agreed to hire Gina.

Truth was, I needed the help. With more and more of my focus shifting to growing my online business, I needed someone to run the store, manage inventory, and keep things going.

I had two part-time employees who were great with the customers, so I just needed Gina to be the manager, handle the logistics, and take some things off my plate.

And Gina, while surly, was certainly smart and capable.

After explaining how the inventory system worked she remarked, “I could write better code on my iPhone while drunk.”

I forced a smile. “Well, it was very expensive software, but I don’t doubt that, Gina. We both know you are overqualified for this job.”

I went back to hanging up the new merchandise while she scanned everything into our system. We worked quietly and efficiently, Lana Del Rey’s moody voice floating through the store.

I was dying to know what brought Gina back to Havenport.

But I didn’t want to push her, as she was clearly hurting.

I’d been letting her warm up to me, get comfortable.

I worried about her, giving up her career and hanging out in this small town.

I hoped she was okay. So I tried to keep my mouth shut, in the hope that someday she would open up to me.

Gina broke the silence first. “What made you want to open this place?”

I looked up and smiled—at least she was showing some kind of interest. “When I was working in the fashion industry in New York, it was during the boom of designer and high-end denim. And each brand and style fit so differently it was really hard to shop. Never mind anyone bigger than a size four or shorter than five feet ten. Then it was a nightmare that usually involved a lot of money and a really good tailor.”

“So I had this dream to make the experience of shopping for jeans more fun and available to everyone.” Accessibility was my main goal.

So many women felt left out of the fashion industry.

They felt neglected and overlooked. My plan was to stock a large range of sizes, prices, and brands.

Everyone said it would never be profitable, that you couldn’t be all things to all people, but I’d found it was the opposite.

Inclusion was profitable. Or at least it could be with the right tools.

“You did it. This place is really impressive.”

“Thank you. I designed every inch of the space to my exact specifications.” I gestured around to the couches, large tables to look through merchandise, the coffee bar in the back, and roomy dressing rooms complete with flattering lights and good mirrors.

It was airy and eclectic and I loved it.

“I want people to come in, hang out, try some new things, and leave feeling amazing and empowered.”

What I didn’t say was that I had spent way too much time shopping in snotty boutiques where people would sneer at me and treat me like garbage. And I wasn’t having that. Everyone was welcome at my store, and we celebrated everyone.

“It was slow going at first. I struggled and doubted myself. But after a slow first year, Boston Magazine did a feature on me and how fun it was to shop in my store, and then people started driving to Havenport from all over New England to shop for jeans. I expanded, hired some help, and kept going.”

“Cool. Nonna says you’re taking over the Internet now.”

I laughed, classic Nonna. “Not exactly. The demand has grown. Customers from other states and countries are emailing and commenting on my social media. So I set up a web store, which has since become my primary business. But it’s challenging to maintain.

Which is why I really need some capital to build it up and take things to the next level. ”

“Are you going to sell the business?”

“Oh, God no. I love it too much. No, I’m trying to raise some funding through venture capital; that way I can continue to grow this business, but with support.”

Gina’s phone buzzed. “Eliza is on her way home. Do you want anything from High Tide?” Eliza was Gina’s roommate and high school friend. Together they had sublet my apartment upstairs, giving me a much-needed income boost. I needed every penny I could get to fix up my house.

“Ask her to grab my usual. I’ll Venmo her now.

” Eliza frequently worked overnight shifts at the Havenport Hospital where she was a nurse.

She brought us coffee and treats from High Tide on her way home to crash for the day.

She was warm and sunny and a lot of fun.

I had no idea how she and my cranky cousin were still best friends after all these years.

“Everything going okay with the apartment?” I asked, desperate for more details about what was going on with her.

“It’s fine.”

“Anything you need?”

“Nope.”

I sighed. Clearly today was not the day Gina was going to confide in me. I returned to the pile of boxes and began breaking them down to recycle.

“Thanks.”

I looked up. “What for?”

Gina looked down at her scuffed combat boots, her hair almost covering her entire face. “For giving me this job and renting your old place to us. I know you don’t like me, but I appreciate the change, you know?”

I dropped the box I was holding and walked over to her.

I put an arm around her and pulled her close.

“Stop that right now, Gina. We are family. I love you. And you will fill me in on the details when you are good and ready. And I should be thanking you. I really needed help with the store, and you are perfect.”

She nodded and didn’t frown, so I took it as a victory. I hugged her tight, wishing I knew what had happened to her. Who or what had stolen her confidence and her ambition. But for now, a hug would have to be enough.