Free Love? Maybe. by Heather Hepler

love potion, but I have a feeling there’s a lot more to this than Jillian is letting on. I bend and plug in the twinkling pink and red lights around the window. I take my banana out from under the counter and peel it. I love bananas, but only if they are completely yellow. No brown and definitely no bruised parts. I take a few bites and study the candy case. There are a lot of empty plates that need to be filled.
     
    “What about you?” Jan asks.
     
    “What about me what?” I ask around my mouthful of banana.
     
    “You talk a lot about what Claire and Jillian think about love. What about you?”
     
    “Love? No thank you.” I take my last bite of banana and toss the peel into the trash.
     
    “I don’t know,” Jan says. He pauses so long I think he’s finished, but then he takes a deep breath. “I think love is like candy.”
     
    “I don’t like candy, either,” I say. I pick up a rag and wipe off the menu board on the wall and start listing the new flavors.
     
    He smiles at me and shakes his head. “I think anyone whosays they don’t like candy just hasn’t found the right flavor.”
     
    I roll my eyes at him. “Thank you, Master Yoda.”
     
    “See the wisdom of my words one day you will.” I shake my head and add a sketch of a coconut kissing a pineapple beside Island Paradise. Jan plugs in the jukebox and punches a button. He starts singing along with some song about a guy trying to place a call to someone who broke his heart. He moves chairs, stools, and various other seats around as he sings. He has a little café set up in the middle of the store. For seats there’s a saddle mounted on a sawhorse, one of those huge exercise balls glued to a platform, and a throne fit for a king—all for customers to sit on. He had a toilet seat for one day, but everyone was pretty grossed out by it.
     
    I fix my ponytail, pulling my freshly-colored hair through my pink elastic. Honestly I can’t tell the difference, but Jillian said it looks a thousand times better.
     
    “You ready?” Jan asks, flipping the sign. I nod and climb down off the stool. From the moment Jan turns the lock on the front door, we’re slammed. Everyone keeps asking about my Consternation Hearts. There was a write-up in the paper along with all the other Valentine’s Day hoopla coming up. I had originally wanted to start selling them mid-January, but getting the packaging together so they look like the original conversation hearts was trickier than I thought.
     
    The big seller of the day is one of Jan’s inventions: Fortune Hearts. I’m pretty sure he works all year on the littlesayings he has printed on the foil wrappers of the tiny chocolate hearts. He’s been selling them since he started this shop and he sells out every year, usually way before Valentine’s Day. People actually start calling in with orders for them right after Christmas.
     
    Jeremy comes in mid-afternoon. He barely looks at me, but makes a beeline for Jan. He and Jan spend several moments deep in conversation. Then Jeremy leaves, still without making eye contact with me.
     
    “What was that all about?” I ask Jan when he comes back around the counter. Either he ignores me or he just doesn’t hear me because it’s so noisy, but either way he doesn’t answer.
     
    Jillian and Claire arrive just as we’re about to close up. They help mop the floor and wipe down tables while I fill napkin holders and replenish the jar of fortune hearts Jan keeps by the register.
     
    When we are finally finished, Jan corners me in the kitchen. “Okay,” he says, holding up his key ring. “Do not turn on the stove or lock yourselves in the walk-in.” He starts to hand the key to me, but yanks it back at the last moment. “Do not set your heads on fire or cut off any digits or otherwise maim, injure, or damage yourselves.”
     
    “We promise,” I say, putting my hand over my heart. Jan looks over at Claire and Jillian, who quickly do the same.
     
    ”I’m