"What would you call it?"She waved her hand around."This is something you do for fun.It's not a real business venture."
"It is a real business," I said weakly as she pushed open the French doors.
Maverick had added a makeshift walkway so that we could talk when we needed to about the project.It wasn't meant for someone in four-inch heels and a pencil skirt though.
"Mom, you shouldn't be out here."Especially dressed as if she was going out to lunch with her country-club friends.
She waved a hand at me."Nonsense.If you own this place, then you can do whatever you want."
"I own the business not the building," I muttered, not that she was listening.
Maverick spotted us right away and moved toward us."Can I help you?"
"Maverick, this is my mother, Catherine Beckett."There was a warning tone in my voice.
"Mrs.Beckett, it's nice to meet you."He didn't bother to offer his hand, probably because he was dirty from working.
Mom's nose turned up anyway."When will this work be done?It's noisy.Not to mention dirty."
"Mom—" I interrupted, wishing I could disappear into the dirt.
"If you're going to own a business, you need to learn how to talk to the people working for you," Mom continued, as if this was a teaching moment.
She might have worked before she married my father, but for as long as I could remember, all she'd done was hang out at the country club with her friends.
"Maverick works for the town," I said through clenched teeth.
"Well," Mom prompted."When can we expect the work to be completed?"
Mom's tone was entitled, and I'd never been more embarrassed.She was talking to Maverick as if he was dirt beneath her heel.
"If you have any questions, you can ask your daughter or Eve Palmer, who's the town coordinator.I need to get back to work."Maverick backed away."It's not safe to be out here without boots and a hard hat."
"Let's get you inside," I urged, embarrassed that she was my mother.
To my relief, she turned on her heel and headed inside.I closed the door with a sigh."You've seen everything now."
Mom sniffed."I can't believe they expect you to operate a business with that noise and dirt."
"I'm usually inside," I said dryly, wishing she'd leave already."Do you have shopping to do?"
"I wanted to see what you were up to, and then I thought you could take me to lunch."
As if this was a passing phase and not my dream.I ground my teeth together."I don't like to close the store for long."
Mom waved her hand."Surely, you have someone to cover for you."
"Aspen works Friday afternoons and Sundays.But I don't have anyone to cover for me today."
"You can't expect me to eat alone," Mom said, opening the door to leave.
She expected me to follow her.
I sighed, grabbing my purse and turning down the lights.I turned the sign from Open to Be Right Back and locked the door.I took her to Mistletoe Inn, the only restaurant that might meet her exacting standards.
"This town is decorated for Christmas, but it's March."
"It's called Christmas Town," I said simply, refusing to be baited by her.
