“We’ve been saying ‘once’ for six months.” Her voice didn’t break but the words came out like she’d climbed the mountain in thin air. “The leaf peepers didn’t come through this past fall. The weekenders ordered online for the holidays.”
Mina reached across the table and squeezed her hand. The gesture was meant to comfort, but it only made Felicity feel worse.
Her friends exchanged a look. They weren’t related, but a lot of townspeople thought they were twins for more reasons than their rhyming names. They had a lot of the same mannerisms, including the expression they just shared.
“Talk to us.” Mina abandoned her jar lantern. “No bravado, Felicity. We’re practically family.”
She stared at the lemon bars, the powdered sugar like the first snow when everything was still pretty. But nothing about this situation was pretty anymore.
She inhaled and her breath snagged. It took two more tries to pull it through her lungs.
“I have to let you go.” She aimed her statement to the plate because she couldn’t say it to their faces yet. “I—” The rest didn’t come out, but the tears did, so hot and fast, she couldn’t press the heels of her hands to her eyes quick enough before they tumbled down her cheeks.
“Oh, honey.” Mina’s chair scraped the floor, then she was there, enveloping Felicity in a warm lavender and lemon-scented hug.
Rina took Felicity’s other side as if she was propping her up. And she was.
She issued a laugh that wasn’t remotely humorous. “I’m the one who should be hugging you guys.”
Mina’s tone was soothing. “You say what needs saying. We’re here for you.”
She nodded, took another breath and got it out this time—the thick truth. “I can’t afford the hours anymore. I can’t even pay you for part-time work.”
Rina’s mouth trembled, then firmed, her chin twitching upward like she did when someone tried to cut in front of her at the bakery. “We saw it coming, Felicity. Numbers are numbers, and you’ve got a business to run. Don’t you dare feel guilty about this like it’s within your control. It isn’t.”
“It’s not your fault, honey,” Mina added. “You did everything. The theme nights. The crafts, the kids’ story hour. You stretched this little shop far and wide these past months.”
“Not far enough.” More tears slipped out, unstoppable, and Mina handed her a tissue.
She leaned into her friend and dabbed her eyes. “You’re like my favorite cousins. This is so hard.”
“We’re still family. We’ll call you every day to get the local gossip.”
At that, she let out a watery huff. “You guys hear more gossip than I do!”
“All the more reason to stay in touch. We can’t leave you in the dark about what’s going on in town.”
“I hate this,” she whispered. “I hate doing this to you.” What would become of her dear friends, her little bookshop family? Her bookstore wasn’t the only business hurting from the detour. Could they even find work around town to keep themselves afloat?
Sure, it wasn’t her worry to carry, but she couldn’t bear the idea of being responsible for their struggles. Or worse, them leaving Willowbrook in search of work.
“The two of us will be just fine. We’re like cats—we land on our feet.” Rina smoothed Felicity’s hair in a comforting touch. She leaned into her.
“We’ll meet for coffee and can visit the Black Heart if we miss your sister Honor’s crafts.” Rina’s voice brightened.
“We still have five-dollar margarita pitchers at the Rusty Spur,” Mina jumped in.
Heat flashed under her skin at the memory of their last margarita night. Those fruity drinks seemed harmless, a little reward for surviving another slow week. But then those two guys had started a shoving match over who “called dibs” on a dance with her. Dibs. Like she was a library book they could check out. The memory made her stomach roll.
Felicity shook her head. “Tea at the café sounds better.”
“Tea,” Mina agreed. “Whoever’s working at the café can sneak us extra biscotti.”
“We can hold our book clubs there.” Rina’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “We’ll read the raciest books and cause a ruckus.”
The plan smoothed some of the sharpness of the moment, and Felicity blew out a breath around her wobbly smile. “Okay, it’s a date.”
Feeling wrung out and lighter at the same time, she wiped her cheeks and blew her nose. Then she lifted her tea and sipped, allowing the warm drink to loosen the thickness in her throat.
