The winter came.  The cold and the snow.  She followed her attorney's advice.  She didn't open her store again.  She took her things from the store.  The sketch of the store's logo drawn by a friend.  A couple of pieces of furniture - a bookcase and a small table - that had been in the family for three generations.  She left the inventory untouched.  Gave the keys to the bank and went home.
    She was by herself.  She sat in front of the television as if she were paralyzed.  Some days she forgot to eat.
    Her sister called.  Her friends called.  She avoided them.  When she finally returned their calls, she said everything was fine.  But, of course, they knew it wasn't.
    Her reserve of money was running out.  She applied for a few jobs in retail.  There were only a few, part time, but even for these, no callbacks.  She returned to her position in front of the television.
    She finally decided to tell her sister and a few of her friends what had really happened.  She hadn't just closed the store to take some time off.  She had closed the store for good.  She had lost the one thing she had poured her life into.  It was like her child.  She had created it, nurtured it, and now it was gone.
    Her sister and her friends offered her advice and a little money.  They cared.  She had never really questioned that.  But there was little they could do to help.  There were no jobs.
    Spring came.  She talked with her attorney again.  She needed to file for bankruptcy.  But she needed a job, and she needed to exhaust the little bit of money she had left.
    She paid things that she would owe ahead, her mortgage, her utilities.  She had always been good at making her money last.  She had gotten further on what she had than anyone thought she could.  But a job?  Retail.  She had no stomach for it.  She avoided the area where her shop had been.  She avoided the other
merchants that she knew.  Some had been her friends.  She felt a crazy sense of shame.  Why?  Why should she feel ashamed?  She had worked hard.  Every day.  Few vacations in all those years.  It was the recession that had killed the store, not her. 
    She thought a lot about the future now.  Maybe she should go back to working with people.  She had liked the little bit of that that she had had the opportunity to do when she had worked as a social worker in the schools.  But there had been too much paper pushing and too little time for really "helping."      She talked with her friends.  Most had worked in sales or retail.  They didn't know very much about "helping people."  About "social services."  And from the tone and expression on the faces of some of her friends, they didn't think much of "helping people."  Or "social services."
    But she knew it was time to do something.  She needed to do something that she would like.  Yes, she needed a job, but she didn't want to do just any job.  She wanted to do something like the store.  No, not retail.  She wanted to do something that meant something to her.  The store had given her life's meaning.
    But now there was no meaning.  She tried to stay busy.  But she could only clean her apartment so many times.  She had to decide what she would do now.
    It was early June.  A card came.  It was from Lee.  She hadn't heard from him since December.  Just his Christmas card.  He hadn't responded to her New Year's card.  She guessed he had believed what she had said.  That everything was just fine. 
    His card said that he and his daughter had gone to the Old City for dinner, and he had looked for the store, but couldn't find it.  It was gone.  The sign was gone, and he thought she might be gone.  That she might've left the area.
    On what? she thought. 
    He asked if they could have coffee or a drink, "catch up." 
    "Why not?" 
    She hadn't thought much about Lee during the winter.  But she hadn't thought much about anything.  Her brain had sort of stopped.  Gone into hibernation. 
    But now it was spring.  She was beginning to think again.  To feel some new energy.  Maybe there were other things she could do, other than retail.  Not working had forced her to make new friends.  She had actually gotten to know some of her neighbors, although she had lived in the condo for over two years and had hardly known anyone until the store closed.  She had had an opportunity and the time to reconnect with old friends.  And that's what Lee was, an old friend.  He had worked in healthcare and social services most of his life.  He could help.  He would know who to talk to.  He would help.  She was sure. 
    Maybe there was going to be a life for her after the store.  In the middle of February, with the snow and the cold, she hadn't thought it possible.  That it could ever be.  But it was the spring and soon there would be summer.  All things were possible on a New England summer.