“What is it, baby?” What was she doing home? I’d reckoned she’d spend the night with Trey.
“Are you awake?”
I bit down on a smile.I am now. I raised on one elbow. “Come in. What’s up?”
She perched on the edge of my bed, the way she used to when she’d come into my room to beg a ride into town or to tattle on her sisters. “I’ve decided to move my business to Bunyan.”
“Beth told me.” Not the best answer, I thought as soon as the words were out of my mouth. It was Amy’s news. Maybe she’d wanted to share it herself. “That’s wonderful.”
“Are you... disappointed in me?”
“Of course not. Why would you even think that?”
“You always told us to follow our dreams.”
“Because I want you to be happy. I can’t be sorry if that means you’re moving home.” But something was wrong.
“I have to go back to New York first. Not to stay,” Amy added. “But I can’t expect Flo and my delivery guy to fill all the orders themselves. I figure I can hire a contractor here to rough the space out, and then I’ll be back in a couple weeks. In time for the twins’ birthday.”
“A contractor?”
“I’m signing a lease for the old shoe store.”
“So you’ve talked to Trey.”
She nodded, her eyes stormy.
“And...?”
“And he offered me a break on the rent.” Her face crumpled. “He doesn’t love me, Mom.”
“I’m sure he does.”
“Not enough.” Her blue eyes welled. “Not as much as I love him.” She burst into tears, flinging herself onto the pillows.
My poor baby.I stared down at her bright blond head, my heart aching for her. I’d always been better with my hands than with words, better at bandaging scrapes than bruised feelings. I stroked her hair. “Then he’s not as smart as I thought he was.”
“It’s not his fault,” Amy said. Defending him, the way I used to defend her father.
Maybe not, any more than it was Ash’s fault. In every relationship, somebody loved and somebody was loved, my mother used to say. Love was rarely equal.
But that didn’t make it hurt any less.
Amy cried in big, wet, ugly sobs, like a child. I missed those days when I could fix her problems with a kiss and a cookie. Or at least make her forget them. I patted her shoulder.
Beth hovered in the hall, drawn by the noise. “Is she okay?”
“I’m fine,” Amy wailed. She sat up abruptly, tears streaking her cheeks. With her red eyes and swollen face, she looked about five years old. “My heart’s broken, but I’ll get over it.”
Beth handed her the tissue box from the bathroom.
“Thanks.” She blew her nose.
“Trey will miss you,” Beth said. “Maybe when you get back...”
Amy’s face hardened, suddenly adult. “He’s had three years,” she said. “Three years since Jo broke up with him and fell in love and had a baby and got married to somebody else. If he was going to miss me—if he really wanted me—he’s had plenty of time to do something about it. I’m not waiting around for him anymore.”
A lump formed in my throat. “That’s my girl. I’m proud of you.”
