Cherry Seven Years Later Afternoon light flooded my art studio as I traipsed up the stairs into the airy space. Maisy, my assistant designer, trailed behind me, slower as she gingerly ascended with a gown draped across her arms as though it were made of glass. “Put it on the mannequin, and you can get on with the alterations this afternoon,” I said. “Sure thing,” Maisy chirped. My heels clicked over the hardwood floors, and I folded myself gratefully into my desk chair. I didn’t think I’d sat down all day. My gaze tracked to the dress Maisy was draping over the mannequin. The striking burgundy gown was a bespoke number made for the actress AJ West. She’d requested me to make something for the BAFTA award ceremony she was attending as a nominee. It wasn’t for another month, and I was pleased with the fitting we’d just had with AJ and that the final alterations had been agreed on. I slipped one foot out of my heels, massaging its arch with my other foot. The downside to designing
Cherry “Crisis averted,” I said to Maisy, who was eyeing me with a knowing smile as I got off the phone. “Carl’s getting her.” “Ooo, another dinner date with Carl,” my assistant said suggestively as she got to work on the dress. I rolled my eyes but couldn’t fight the smile from spreading across my face again. As I prepped the necessary books for the interns, got out samples of material, and set my designs on the long white table we’d be working at, I felt my excitement growing about Carl and the future that was developing. It was seven o’clock by the time I let myself into my apartment. The students had kept me until five, and then I’d had to check over the takings for my store below before closing up for the evening. As I slipped off my heels in the hall, I felt a sigh of contentment as I stole barefoot down the hall and into the kitchen. Two almost full dinner plates rested on the kitchen table, and I frowned. “Carl?” Just then, Carl darted into the kitchen, wide-eyed, and hi
Cherry I hurried off to the cash register to serve the next customer. It was Saturday, so I was doing overtime in my store. It had taken me the last year to find and train Nina and Kendra, my two sales assistants, to my satisfaction. But Kendra was expecting her first baby now and had asked for the weekends off. I was in the process of interviewing for a new sales assistant for the weekends and to cover Kendra’s maternity leave, but until I found someone suitable, I had to cover it. By five o’clock, I’d left Nina to lock up and returned home. With fantasies of stripping out of the tight black dress and heels I wore, ideas about dinner zipped through me. Deciding I was too tired to cook, I pictured the excitement on Fern’s face when I told her we’d order in. As I traipsed up the stairs to my second-floor apartment, a grassy, woody scent filled my nostrils. The aroma tugged at something deep inside me, conjuring up long- buried memories: lush farmlands with hedgerows. I stopped dead on
Cherry Still dazed but obviously feeling flustered about zoning out, my nanny readily agreed. But Fern stomped her feet, point blank, refusing to go to her room. It was only when I suggested they make some chocolate milk and have a tea party with her teddies that she submitted. I also had to agree to her demand that once Bert and I had talked business, I’d let her say goodbye to him. Once again, I scowled at Bert, annoyed that he’d somehow managed to get Fern to like him in one brief meeting. Thoughts about how impossible it had been to get my daughter to warm to any of my past suitors made me even more angry with him. Finally, safely coaxed into her room by Lara, and with the door shut, I was left to confront Bert. Shrugging off my jacket and slipping out of my heels, I padded into the living room. My hands settled on my hips. “You know, it’s rude to barge into someone’s house uninvited.” He shrugged. “Kinda gave up on ever getting invited after the first five years.” My face b
Cherry As Bert and I broke apart, my friend’s easy-going grin triggered a matching one on my face. “What?” I asked. “Sooo, Fern’s a fire-cracker, ain’t she?” I chuckled but reminded myself I still needed to tread carefully. I gestured to the sofa, inviting Bert to sit down and using the moment to get a grip on my anxiety. I thanked my lucky stars that I’d taken the precaution to conceal Fern’s shifter scent. I’d gone to a witch in Berlin’s Mitte district, who’d given me medicine to block my daughter’s scent to others with unnatural abilities. But I knew I mustn’t reveal any nervousness before my friend about my daughter, or he’d get suspicious. “She certainly keeps me on my toes,” I started. Bert’s keen blue eyes took me in, and he didn’t ask, but the silence filled with the unasked question about where Fern’s father was. Knowing it was important for me to broach the subject first before my friend could ask whether she was Dylan’s, I leaped into the topic. “I met Fern’s dad, a hu
Cherry I rolled my eyes at his shifter joke but observed Fern’s disappointment fall over her face. Trying to distract her, I suggested, “Bert heard about your Star of the Week Certificate. Want to go get it for him?” Fern nodded, her dark eyes hovering hopefully on Bert as she smiled and shot off to get her award. My heart lurched in my chest as I contemplated that longing look on my little girl’s face. I realized Bert was watching me closely. “Sorry, it’s tough on her,” I said. “Sometimes, I wish she had more than me.” Bert’s eyes were somber. “She does seem to really want a father figure. Have you…” He hesitated. “Are you seeing anyone?” My stomach twisted uncertainly. I sighed. “I’m seeing someone, but it’s still early days. I’m still not sure how I feel about him, to be honest.” At the thought of Carl, I realized I should probably call him later, to let him know I’d be out of the city for a week. Especially given his declaration the other night. Wanting to deflect the atte
Cherry Before my mom passed away, we’d spent some of the happiest weekends there, enjoying the glass sculptures and lush gardens illuminated by lights in the dusk. Bittersweet memories of my mom and dad’s smiling faces as they wandered around the place occupied me. Feeling nostalgic, I wondered about revisiting those artworks while I was visiting. Maybe my dad or Bert would be up for coming with me. I wondered if I could use the place as inspiration for a new range of designs next summer. The exhibition’s bright color palette amidst the amber lights had always reminded me of summer blending into fall. I mused about coming back to Seattle for photo shoots with my next clothing line, but my stomach somersaulted. I remembered the text from Bert I’d received during my stopover in London while waiting for my connecting flight. I scooped my phone out of my handbag and opened his text: I didn’t want to overwhelm you when I visited you, but I need to give you the heads up before you get to
Cherry “Darling, all my friends are here,” he said. “There are preternatural areas in Berlin, too,” I said brightly. “The Mitte District is the main one with many witches and warlocks trading there. And I’ve met a few shifters hanging out in the area too.” The area was where I’d gone to find the scent blocker for Fern. I knew my dad wouldn’t cope well adjusting to spending too much time in human society, so I wanted him to know that Berlin had a thriving preternatural community too. “I’ve still got my work here with the pack, love,” My dad continued. “And I don’t think another pack would hire an old codger like me,” he said. I kicked myself for not being considerate about how much it would mean relocating. My father had worked for the Starsmoon Pack his whole life. He was in his late fifties now, and I had to admit relocating cities for him meant starting over completely, with friends, home, and work. But the truth was I had to tell my dad about Fern because sitting around with bo