I barked out a laugh.“Yeah, that hasn’t worked for me yet after twenty-four years.”
She turned her head and looked at me.“That’s because you let them flit away.”
“Flit away?”
“Ever.”She gave me a look.“They are basically retired and leave you in charge all the time.They flit away.”
I made a face.“They’re not retired-retired.”
Lark held up a hand.“Please.They spend more time at that cabin in the U.P.than they do in town.”
That part was true.
My parents had always worked hard.Long hours, early mornings, late nights, ordering supplies, balancing books, dealing with employees who called in sick, and fryers that stopped working at the worst possible time.They’d built the Dairy Bar into what it was, and now that they were older, they’d started taking off more.
Not vacations exactly.Just… stretches of time.
A week here.Ten days there.Sometimes longer if the fish were biting or the weather was good or my mom decided she wanted to sit on the dock and read in peace without the phone ringing every five minutes.
I didn’t blame them.They’d earned every quiet morning and every slow afternoon.It just meant I was here more.A lot more.
“Still,” Lark said, picking at a spot on the counter with her fingernail, “you pretty much own the place now.”
I let out a short laugh.“That’s dramatic.”
“It’s true.”
“It’s not.”
“It is.”She nudged me with her hip.“And when they fully retire, it’ll actually be yours.”
That settled in my chest funny.
Not bad, but not good, either.
Just big.
Owning the Dairy Bar someday had always felt like one of those things sitting off in the distance.Real, but not immediate.Like a road sign for a place you knew you were headed to eventually, just not tonight.
I crossed my arms and looked around the place again.“That’s a lot of pressure.”
Lark shrugged.“You’re already doing it.”
“Doing it and owning it are two different things.”
She opened her mouth, probably ready to argue, but the older couple in the booth stood and started toward the door.We both straightened.
“Night, girls,” the woman called.
“Good night,” I said with a wave.
“See you next time,” Lark added.
The bell over the door jingled as they left, the sound familiar enough that I usually didn’t notice it.
Tonight, I did.
Maybe because it was getting late.Maybe because we were both counting down the minutes until ten.
