Page 40 of The Undercover Billionaire's Baby

“No, I meant for the fun part. This has been great. I joined a jogging group, and I’ve never been fitter. And Wiener just loves it. Bad dog. Bad dog.” She bent down to tickle him under his chin. “You could do it for charity after this year. Donate books to schools. How about that?”

“I’d love that,” said Lana. “Mom would have, too.”

“That she would.” Mrs. Schneiderman sighed. “You’re probably too young to remember, but your mother did do that years ago. The school library got hit by this freak bolt of lightning, and your mom led the charge to get them new books. They ended up with so many they had no place to put them, and they had to send half of them to some school in Boston.”

“I remember that,” said Dora, coming over to join us. She bent to pet Wiener. “Who’s a good boy?”

“Not this one today, running off chasing squirrels!”

“Your mom used to read to him,” said Dora.

Lana blinked. “To Wiener?”

“Yeah, in the morning, before she’d open up. She’d practice for story hour and feed him his treats.”

“So, that’s why he’s always trying to break in.” Lana laughed, shook her head. “I should’ve guessed it was her.”

“She was always so generous.” Mrs. Schneiderman sighed. “I still open up some mornings and look out my window, and expect to see Ruth looking out hers. We used to grab lunch sometimes, and just laugh and laugh…”

I glanced over at Lana and saw her smile had gone strained.

“We should check on Alice,” I said. “See if she needs anything.”

Lana frowned. “Where is Alice?”

“Not sure. Let’s find her.” I took Lana’s arm and led her down the beach. As we put the crowd behind us, I felt her relax. She kicked off her shoes and curled her toes in the sand, and let the waves wash over her feet.

“I love their stories,” she said. “About Mom, I mean. But they make me sad, too, that she’s not here to see this. That the stories, our memories, are all we have left.”

“You have the store. And each other.”

Lana looked back up the beach, at the kids playing games. At Mrs. Schneiderman feeding Wiener a dog treat. At a gaggle of tourists gathered around Chester, who had a green ribbon pinned to his shirt. That meant he’d come third, and I was impressed. I’d never have guessed he was much of a runner.

“They’ve been like family,” said Lana, a catch in her voice. “Since Mom passed, I mean. She was such a big presence. Her store was this… hub. People would come in, y’know, after hours, to chat and to plan things. Like the fall potluck.”

“The fall potluck?”

Lana smiled, watching Chester and Cathy high-five. “When the summer folks go and the beach is all ours again, we have a big potluck to celebrate. Like we survived tourist season, and we’re all still here. I think Mom actually started it. Planned the first one.”

I didn’t want to say the wrong thing, so I squeezed her hand.

“Everyone’s been giving me space since she passed, but I don’t think I want that. Not anymore. I’ve been scared I’d fall flat trying to fill her shoes, but I’d rather trip a few times than not even try.” She swallowed, a dry sound. “It was sudden, her passing. I wasn’t prepared. Not that you can prepare for something like that, but we were planning this party, this…” Lana’s hand clenched on mine.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

Lana turned to the ocean and drew a deep breath. We’d come far enough from the party that the celebration was muted, the surge of the ocean loud in our ears. I stood and watched Lana as she watched the waves.

“It was lymphoma,” she said. “We thought Mom had it beat. Not just me, but her doctors. The treatment had worked. She was gaining back weight and getting stronger, and we were planning this party to celebrate. A week into planning, she had her first seizure, and we found out the cancer spread to her brain. They tried this new treatment that sounded so great, but she only got worse from there. She went downhill so fast. It felt like I blinked, and she couldn’t get up the stairs. I blinked again, and she didn’t know who I was. Then she was gone, and I wasn’t ready. Is anyone ever, for something like that?”

I flashed back to the day I’d lost my own mother, or rather, the day Dad broke the news. She’d been gone weeks by then. I’d missed her funeral.

“I wasn’t,” I said.

“When Mom first got sick, she wanted to teach me. She wanted to show me how she ran the store. I wouldn’t let her. I was… superstitious. It felt like if I did, then she could go. If I still needed her, she’d have to stay. So I kept saying, no, you’ll be doing this for years yet. Then after her seizure, it was too late. She was too weak by then. She needed to rest. And all I’ve kept thinking is, why didn’t I let her? She wanted to teach me. It might’ve helped. It might’ve given her some peace of mind.”

“She trusted you.” I cleared my throat. My voice had gone thick. “She wanted to teach you because she knew you could do this. And look at these people. The whole town does, too.” I made a wide, sweeping gesture, back at the beach. “They all believe in you, and it’s more than that.”

“More than that?” Lana’s eyes shone.

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