Page 126 of Never Let You Go

Oh no. I’m not spending years working on that. “If we take years, it won’t happen. This needs to be decided immediately. And implemented by the end of the year.”

“The beauty of youth,” she murmurs with a smile on her lips. “How are you going to do that? It sounds like a mix of franchising and co-op.”

The heck if I know. “The only real problem is to find a law firm that will be okay fronting the work without seeing a dime until I take over. We’ll need contracts ready to sign. I’m thinking most of the current store managers will be on board to become owners. It’s just a matter of having the paperwork ready.”

Barbara’s bracelets jingle as she fluffs her hair. “Okay, honey. Time for a reality check. The whole part about turning Red Barn Baking into a co-op, I can still follow. It’s a dream, but it can become a project. Now, asking a lawyer to start working before being paid, that’s a delusion. Not gonna happen. Revise your expectations.”

Wow. That’s a better reaction than I expected. “Okay then. We hire them the day I take over. Can you take care of finding a firm ready to move when it’s done?”

She raises an eyebrow. “Let’s say, I can start sending out feelers.”

“We’ll need a consultant. I don’t want one of those posh firms. I need someone who has personal experience, and vision. And the charisma to carry this out.”

“Someone like Christopher.”

Someone exactly like him. “Yes, except not him. We’ve been over that already.” Christopher would be perfect for the task. If only he weren’t so stubborn about his hatred for Red Barn. Unfortunately, that means I can’t tell him anything before I pass the exam. And once I do?

Just the thought of it twists my stomach.

Barbara takes my hand across the table. “Honey. Don’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“Exactly what Rita did. Sacrificing yourself for Red Barn. It’s not worth it.”

“I’m not sacrificing myself for Red Barn. I’m doing it—and it’s not a sacrifice—for the people who have been wronged by Red Barn Baking. I’m giving them their livelihood back.”

“It’s a sacrifice. They’re grown-ups. They can look after themselves. You’re all Knight in Shining Armor on a Mission. Why are you doing this to yourself?”

“Because … because… I have no choice!” Can’t she see that? “I can continue running Red Barn Baking the way it’s always been, or I can do some good in the world.”

“Doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t be lying to Christopher about this,” she says. “He means something to you.”

He does, unfortunately. I’m getting very, very attached. And I’ll deal with it. But that doesn’t mean I need to cut this short now. And because he’ll kick me out of his life the minute he knows who I really am, yeah, I can totally keep that part of my life to myself. “That’s exactly why I can’t tell him, Barb. So I can protect what we have now. Once I do, it’ll be lost. And I’m not really lying to him. I’m just not telling him everything.”

“If he cares about you, that won’t matter to him.”

“You may be right. But it’s too risky.” What if I’m wrong about him? What if he judges me and lets me go? Everything would be ruined.

She doesn’t like it. She ums and groans and shifts in her chair.

“He’s better off not knowing for now. I mean, we have this arrangement, it suits him. Why ruin it?”

“But does it suit you?” she presses.

“Of course!” I don’t have a choice, do I? I throw her a bone. “The sex is great.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “I can tell. You look fabulous.”

And on that note, we go to the resort, where she’s decided to stay. “It’s off the beaten path,” she declares when I ask her why she didn’t stay in town. “I need to reconnect with nature.”

Good thing that’s her plan, because the resort is in dire need of TLC. But it’s a sprawling property on the lake, with a view of the village in the background. If she’s planning on spending time outdoors, this is the place to be.

“I wish you’d taken the board’s offer. I bet you still could,” she says out of the blue, while we’re walking outside once she’s all checked in.

I stop in my tracks. Has she not been listening? I’ve finally been offered a chance to make a contribution to society. To make a difference for my family business. Why would I let that go? I’ve come this far, I’m not crawling back to Robert Norwood with my hand stretched out. No way. “Barbara,” I say softly, “this is my destiny. We rarely get to choose what we’re given. But we can choose what we do with it. I’ve been given the opportunity to so some good in the world, and I’m taking it.”

Later that evening, we meet at Lazy’s for dinner. She’d suggested something fancier, but I said, “First dinner in Emerald Creek needs to be at Lazy’s. That’s a rule.”

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