She bit back a sigh as she scooted around the island to join him at the table. Why did she have a feeling this would take longer than a quick moment?
He reached for his fork, his hand trembling, then set the fork down and clasped his hands together. “I can’t do it anymore.”
“Brunch?”
“The photography studio.”
McKenna sank in her seat. This was definitely going to take longer than a quick moment. “I know these past couple weeks have been an adjustment.”
“They’ve been a nightmare.”
“If you give her a chance, Kristi is more than ready—”
“Kristi quit.”
McKenna stopped mid-sentence. “She what?”
“Quit. Right after the bar mitzvah. Said it was too stressful. And it was. Which is why I can’t do it either. Not anymore. I need you to come back, so you can take over the studio as soon as possible.”
“What?” He couldn’t be serious. “Mr. Sullivan, no. I can’t just take your photography studio.”
“Why not?”
“Because... because it’syours. It’s called Sullivan’s Shots.” And this was not how this was supposed to play out. At all. She was supposed to be breaking free of her hometown, not gaining heavier cement blocks around her feet.
Footsteps creaked overhead. The Harrys must be up and moving.
McKenna rose from her chair. Grabbed her shoulder bag. “Why don’t we talk more about this later?” Or never. That would be even better. “I need to get Bobbi and hope Oliver shows up and that this proposal still happens and...” Well, all sorts of things that didn’t include taking over Mr. Sullivan’s photography studio. “I just need to go.”
“You could do weddings.”
McKenna froze with her hand on the back door handle as Mr. Sullivan continued. “You could do whatever you want. Hire whomever you want. Buy as many cactus plants as you want. You’re the only person I trust to take over. Please say you’ll consider the offer.”
“I’ll... I’ll consider the offer.” What other choice did she have? If everything fell apart tonight like her gut kept telling her it would, she may very well need Mr. Sullivan and his studio to keep her head above water once again.
Nate struggled not to drown in a sea of panic. Nothing was going like he’d hoped.
By the time he made it back to the B&B with a new rental vehicle, McKenna had already left to get Bobbi. Now, hours later, they still weren’t back yet, Oliver was still MIA, and last time Nate checked, which was probably thirty seconds ago since he’d been checking his phone roughly every thirty seconds, he still didn’t have any word from his dad.
He checked his phone again.
Nope. Nothing.
He wiped sweat off his forehead and thanked a group of ladies for leaving a donation in the “Let’s Benefit Bugle’s Library” basket Georgie was making him man at one of the many folding tables scattered throughout the property.
Barb had a vegetable table beneath the walnut tree. Evie had a knitting display table inside the house right next to the bathroom, which was only making money off the Harrys since everyone else was supposed to use the porta potties Georgie insisted they rent.
“We’ll make all the money back,” she kept saying. “We will.”
Not based on the donations Nate had witnessed so far. In fact, the group of ladies still standing in front of him had already removed their donations from the basket as they frowned in unison at the sign taped to the front of the table that readHarry Connick Junior is unfortunately unable to attend this evening’s festivities.
“No Harry?”
“No Harry?”
“Who’s Harry?”
“Didn’t I try telling everyone that Harry Connick Junior wasn’t coming?” The last voice belonged to Lottie, who’d taken up residence beside Nate so she could gleefully inform everyone upon their arrival how right she’d been all along.
