“I need to talk to you.”
He leaned back against the railing. “Did someone else get arrested?”
She let out a meager laugh. “No.” Then the words faltered, and she had to take a deep breath before she continued, “Remember last year when I was thinking about grad school?”
He nodded.
“Well, I ended up applying to Columbia. Their school of journalism is one of the best in the country, and it was a long shot. I didn’t even think I would get in, so I didn’t tell anyone about it… but I did.” She tried to smile, to make her voice sound celebratory, but it only came out flat.
His brow furrowed. “When did you find out?”
Her eyes darted down to where she fumbled with the edge of her T-shirt. “A few days before your stroke.”
Her father stared back at her, his expression stoic.
“I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret,” she continued quickly. “I was just… trying to figure out how to tell you. Work out the financialsand everything so you wouldn’t worry. And then everything happened, and your doctors made it sound so…” Her voice cracked. “I deferred enrollment until I knew you were better and we all had a plan. Columbia gave me a semester, and it seemed like so much time. But after a while I realized that we were never really going to have a plan because… it’s us. So everything just fell into the same pattern, and going to Columbia, becoming a journalist—it started to feel so far away. Like it was a dream I had no business dreaming.”
She dared to look up and meet her father’s gaze again. He had barely moved. “Did you let the deadline pass?”
“No. I wrote them last week. They’re letting me enroll in the spring.”
A long moment. Then her father let out a long sigh. “Well, thank the good Lord for that.”
Lizzy blinked. “What?”
“You’ve been dreaming of being a journalist and traveling the world since you were old enough to hold a pencil, Lizzy. Do you have any idea how pissed I’d be if you let that deadline come and go?”
“Really?”
“Really. I’m proud of you, kiddo.” He smiled, one side still a little higher than the other.
A familiar pang of guilt hit her in the gut. “I can come back on the weekends. Or maybe try to go part-time at the bakery, and—”
“Lizzy, the bakery was never your dream,” he cut in. “Hell, it was never my dream. But it keeps us going. Makes enough for us to live, for you girls to go to school. Get bailed out of jail once or twice.” He shrugged. “At the end of the day, it’s there to work for us, not the other way around. Got it?”
She nodded, trying to keep her emotions in check. Still, a few tears filled the corners of her eyes. “I think you’re going to miss my scones, though.”
“Probably.” He let out a hoarse chuckle. “But baking has never been the issue.”
Another stab of concern hit Lizzy’s chest. He was right, the bakery was great, but it was everything else that seemed to trip them up. The website, the bookkeeping… her worries must have been written across her face, because when her father looked up at her again, his expression softened. “Jesus, Lizzy. Stop worrying about us. It’s not your problem anymore. I’ll figure it out.”
She smiled. Then an idea struck her. “What about Kitty?”
“What about her?”
“She studied business management. She could help.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think she’d be interested.”
“Are you serious? Dad, she spends every waking hour coming up with ideas for the bakery. She’s even spent the past year working on some top secret business plan. And, yes, she’s not great at the actual baking part, but we can make up for that. When it comes to numbers and marketing plans and all that? She’s perfect.”
“Kitty, huh. I thought she wanted to be an influencer.”
Lizzy threw him a sardonic glare. “That’s Lydia.”
The corner of his mouth turned up again as he seemed to consider. “Right, right.”
The sound of a car pulling up the driveway grabbed their attention. Lizzy’s eyebrows knitted together as she listened to the engine die, a car door open and close, and footsteps walk up the porch.
