Richard’s shoulders relaxed as he watched the easy friendship between Paris and his son. “Do you play basketball?” he asked her.
“No, but I enjoy watching it. I’ve been to a few games at the church, but I haven’t seen you and Jack there.”
“We go sometimes,” Jack said. “Especially since Dad got his new leg. It makes it easier for him to walk.”
Paris nodded. “I read about his prosthetic leg in the newspaper. It sounds amazing.”
“It’s changed my life.” Richard couldn’t begin to describe how much it had helped.
“Dad doesn’t need to use his wheelchair anymore.”
Paris’ eyes lifted to Richard’s. “I didn’t realize you couldn’t walk.”
“I walked, but it was painful.” The sympathy in her eyes made him feel uncomfortable. “I don’t need your pity.”
Paris didn’t take offence at his softly spoken words. “Don’t worry. I wasn’t going to give you any.”
He breathed a sigh of relief when Pastor John tapped the top of the microphone. At least for now, he wouldn’t have to answer the questions Paris was bound to have.
“Welcome to our Valentine’s Day party,” John said from the front of the room.
As he thanked the people who’d made today possible, Richard glanced at Paris. She looked oddly endearing in her Queen of Hearts costume.
He had no idea why she liked dressing up or why she wanted to own a flower shop. Maybe, if he told her about his life, she’d tell him about hers. But that meant sharing a part of himself that made him feel raw and vulnerable, and he didn’t know if he could do it.
Paris stood in front of the general store, staring at her cell phone. Two minutes and fifteen seconds ago, the loans officer at the bank had sent her an email.
“Are you okay?”
Lifting her gaze, Paris looked into the worried face of her friend, Andrea. “The bank sent me an email.”
“About your loan application?”
“I haven’t opened it, but I think so.”
“That was quick.” Andrea pulled her across to a wooden seat. “Are they lending you the money?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t opened the message.”
Andrea frowned. “What are you worried about?”
There were so many things that she didn’t know where to start. “If they say no, I won’t be able to open my own business.”
“From what you said, Shelley seemed positive about your application.”
“She was, but she isn’t the person making the decision.”
Andrea’s steady gaze made Paris’ heart sink. The reason she hadn’t opened the email went a lot deeper than worrying about the bank’s decision, and her friend knew it.
“Is this about what your mother said?”
“I shouldn’t listen to her, but she’s my mom.” Paris’ relationship with her family was complicated. Her mom was a high-functioning alcoholic who bounced from one bad relationship to the next. For most of her childhood, Paris had lived with her grandma, trying to ignore the chaos around her.
It didn’t matter how hard she tried to make her mom happy; it never worked. “What if she’s right? I don’t know anything about owning a successful business. If I fail, it could ruin my credit rating and make it difficult to do other things.”
“You have more support here than you ever did back home. Shelley’s an accountant. She would have told you if it wasn’t the right thing to do.”
Paris looked at her phone.
