That right there is what has me so … so … I don’t even know.
“Yes,” I say. She has my full attention now. “I didn’t know you were building a website.”
There is no missing the amazement in my voice.
“Well,” Brooke says, and I swear her cheeks turn a new shade of pink. “There was always a website, but it really just had a static page with the phone number, address, and hours. I added to it.”
She grabs her computer and sits on the floor in front of the couch, stretching her legs out in front of her, the laptop resting on her thighs.
Her bare thighs, might I add, because she’s wearing another one of those spandex shorts sets. She changed into it the moment we walked through the door.
I’m still in my slacks and shirt, although after the last glass of wine, I removed the button-down and left myself in one of my crew necks.
I debate whether to sit on the couch behind her where I can still see, but this feels like a sit-on-the-floor-with-her moment.
So I do.
Our shoulders bump, and it’s clear I might have sat a little too close, but if she noticed, she doesn’t show it.
She simply turns the screen to me.
An “about the” bakery page is staring back at me, and the picture at the top is one of Brooke, Sadie, and Sadie’s mother.
“The history of B’s Bakery,” I read out loud and grin. “How old were you in this photo?”
“Ten, I think. Same for Sadie.”
I read over the first paragraph of the page and then lean back.
“Does Sadie know you’re doing this?”
Brooke nods and turns the computer back to her.
“A few years ago, when the whole thing with Sadie’s memory went down and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to keep running the bakery, I brought up the idea of expanding the website and including a store with it. We could sell little baking kits for people to make treats at home, and it could simplify theway people order. Calling is fine, but there is an entire audience out there who doesn’t enjoy talking on the phone. This would reach them.”
Wow. She has dreams for the bakery, and by the smile on her face, she loves what she does.
My dream is that I don’t want my siblings to suffer for the choices Henry made. Do I love the lodge? Sure. Do I have the kind of grin on my face when I talk about it the way she talks about the bakery? Not even a fraction.
“What did Sadie say?” I ask.
“Not much, and then a short while later she asked if I wanted to buy it. I couldn't at the time, since I'd just bought my house, but in every sense of the matter, I became the owner. She knows I want to buy her out completely someday, but …”
“Then someone stole your identity and messed that up.”
“Yeah,” she agrees with a breathy laugh. “It was my mom.”
Shit.
If anyone knows a thing or two about shitty parents, it’s me.
“And then I just so happened to show up at your door,” I say to keep the conversation lighter, but now I finally know why she was crying that day.
“Mm-hmm, and I was desperate enough to take you up on your offer.”
Then her face drops into her hands and she groans. “I still can’t believe I went in there asking for money. I never do that. I never have that kind of courage.”
Before I have a chance to respond, her computer dings and a notification pops up in the corner. It takes me less than a second to see who it is.
