“Hey, kiddo!”her father called from his old chair.
She stepped into the belly of the house, a large square living room that bled into the kitchen.
The place hadn’t changed since she was in middle school.The furnishings, carpet, and wooden floors were old.At one point, her mother had decided they would wholeheartedly embrace the state flower and started collecting every kind of home décor she could find with a sunflower.The yellow brightened the dark wood of the room, giving it a cozy sense of familiarity.
Photos decorated every available space on the wall, showing the history of their family.From her parents’ prom photo to Lilian’s high school graduation.Reminding them of simpler days.Days when concerns like cancer and money didn't exist.
She ignored the smell of the steak waiting for her on the stove and walked toward the two bodies cuddled on the couch.Her faire dress swished against her legs.Both her parents smiled when she stepped into view.
“There’s our princess!”Her father beamed.
Lilian shook her head.“Not a princess, Dad.”
“Then what are you?I can never get it right.”
“Well, this year I’m a merchant.”She spread her arms out, showing off the plain dress, covered in dust and sweat from the day.
Her father laughed as she bent down and gave him a kiss on the cheek.“A businesswoman, like your mother.”
“Dinner’s on the stove.You should eat,” her mother said with a weak smile.These days, Beatrice Brody’s smile was always strained.Chemo took a lot out of her and yesterday had been treatment day.
Her father had taken her to the facility in Manhattan, a nearly thirty-minute drive, while Lilian prepped to move inventory from the store to the faire.That was their life now.A constant assessment of schedules.Who was manning the repair store.Who was minding the bookstore.And who was covering chemo.
When the initial diagnosis had come in, she’d been ignorant of how completely their lives would change.The wordcancermeant so many things.A few months to live, a few years.No chance of remission.Or maybe a fighting chance.
She’d decided early on to be grateful for every day they had together, and she’d devoted herself to her mother’s care.But it had meant leaving the bookstore unattended for nearly a month before they could piece together a workable routine.
“I’m good,” Lilian said, sitting on the couch next to her mother and giving her a gentle hug.
“Lilian, did you wear that all day?It was ninety-eight degrees.You must have been boiling,” her father noted, always mindful of the weather.The familiar warning of “drink water” would undoubtedly be his follow-up statement.
“Yeah, but I consider it training for the season,” Lilian said, waving off his concern.“Next weekend, I’m not going to have a choice about what I wear.”
“Stay hydrated,” he muttered.
Lilian shared a smile with her mother.
Her father had always prided himself on being the caregiver in their small family.When it came to family, Garrett Brody put the women in his life first.He’d asked no questions when her mom decided to quit teaching to buy the local bookstore.And he hadn’t pushed back when Lilian decided to go to college for English.
They weren’t a rich family, but they were close.And it had been easy to go back home after college, live in the barndominium, and pass every day with a teleworking job while occasionally helping with the bookstore.
Then the diagnosis had come six months ago.
Stage two breast cancer.
The news had hit their family like a bomb.Her father, who had always believed any injury could be fixed with a band-aid, had been at a loss.It was her mother who'd recovered first, shaking off the shock and coming up with a plan.She’d proposed breast-conserving surgery without batting an eye and shortly after that had received a lumpectomy.
But it didn't end with surgery.The cancer was aggressive and required radiation and chemo to make sure it stayed gone.They were three months into postsurgery treatment, and it was taking a toll.
Her father quickly adjusted their priorities.He got extra help at the shop to take his wife to appointments.He worked longer hours on days when the shop needed him.They were in the busy season for the repair shop—spring through fall saw the most equipment breakdown as farmers got to work.The repair shop paid for their home and the treatment.
Her mother had once been an active teacher in their community.She’d taught nearly everyone’s kids in Tenison, fostering a love for reading and books in the community.Then fifteen years ago, she’d decided to step away from teaching to keep the only bookstore in thirty miles up and running.Every day, Lilian saw her mother’s impact on Tenison.Giving out candy to kids, romance novels to tired moms, and mystery novels to the elderly.These days, it was a good day if she went to the shop once a week, and even then, she didn't have the energy to be at the counter all day.
Lilian quit her teleworking job.She was happy to do it, to relieve both her mother and father.When she wasn’t manning the shop, she was keeping her mother company during radiation and helping at home.If they lost the bookshop, it would have been another blow to their family.
After all this time, they still had their small businesses.And she was proud to be a part of that.
“So tell me,” her mother said, “how is the store at the faire looking?”
