My phone rang, and Mom’s number appeared on-screen.
I set my salad aside and answered.
“Good afternoon, sweetheart,” she cooed. “I got your text. How are you? How’s the shop?”
“Everything is great,” I said, smiling a little at her pep. “How are you and Dad?”
“We’re wonderful. Heading out for a late lunch before leaving town, and I can’t wait. It’s so nice to get away once in a while. You know?”
Her quip caused me to blink. Did I know? I wasn’t sure when I’d last had any sort of getaway. I scraped the back of my mind for details as Mom continued to talk. I had one guaranteed day off per week when the store was closed, and a second on the day my parentsworked—though that was less regular lately—and I often spent most of that day off catching them up on the business. Reviewing our bookkeeping or brainstorming the next quarter’s events.
I’d made several road trips to other indie shops recently, searching for books to put on reception tables for the wedding-vow-renewal celebration. Did that count as getting away? I wasn’t working for the store at the time, but I’d been acting as my parents’ volunteer wedding planner. If those trips didn’t count as getaways, then when was my last—
“Oh, wow.” The words popped out when the realization hit. Had I not taken time off since I’d had my appendix removed? That was—I performed the mental math—seven years ago. Seriously?
“We don’t have to get it all sorted right now,” Mom said, the earlier pep gone from her tone.
“What?” I jerked back to the moment, confused and a little disgruntled. “Sorry. I was trying to remember something.”
Mom chuckled nervously. “That’s supposed to be my line. It’s exactly what I was saying. Once you’re over sixty, like your father and me, the memory starts to go. Along with everything else. Which is why we want to talk to you about this.”
“About what?” I asked, still daunted by the possibility I hadn’t had a day off since I was hospitalized and literally, physically unable to work.
“Retiring,” Mom said. “We aren’t getting any younger, and we want to spend our time enjoying one another, spoiling our grandbaby.”
Somewhere in the back of my mind, a record needle screeched. “You want to retire?” That couldn’t be right. “You’re only sixty-one. And you rarely work more than one day a week. Who will take your places?”
The line went quiet for a long beat, and realization smacked my head like a toppling bookshelf. Of course, I already knew the answer. “Me.”
“Well,” Mom said. “That’s the point, isn’t it? You don’t need us. You’ve got it all under control.”
You’ve got it all under control.That was exactly what Annie had said earlier. Intuition flared. “Did you already talk to Annie about this?”
Silence stretched anew.
“Mom?”
“We didn’t want to upset her by offering the store to you without telling her first. We have two children, after all, but you’re the one who loves Rini Reads, and Annie ...” She let the sentence drift.
I pressed a hand to my forehead, then began to pace. She’d already spoken with Annie about my future. Was I even a part of this family anymore? “Annie has a husband and a baby on the way,” I filled in. “Of course she doesn’t want the store. It’s hard work. It’s long hours, and too much responsibility.”
I had no idea how she’d handle a baby. Then again, she wasn’t alone. She had Jeffrey—and our parents—to help.
“We didn’t think she’d mind,” Mom said. “And she didn’t. She has other priorities, and Jeffrey does well financially.”
And I was a spinster. Married to the store I’d been groomed to take over.
“She wants you to have it as much as we do,” Mom continued. “Once you take over, you can make all the changes you want. I know you have big ideas, and your father and I are only holding you back.”
I released a shaky breath. “Welcome to Rini Reads,” I called out to the empty store. My traitorous voice cracked on each word. “Mom, I’ve got to go. A customer just walked in, but we’ll talk soon. Enjoy your trip.”
I disconnected and fought a round of frustration tears.
How had this become my life? How could I start my journey to peace while being given more work? How could I stop my heart from breaking?
Chapter Two
The home screen on my phone lit up, and the line from my Daily Dickinson app appeared on-screen.
