Page 55 of Cherry on Top

“I gotta take this,” he told Kate and ducked to the back, to his little office. He basically never shut the door, but he did this time.

“Hey, Mom,” he said. Felt himself already internally bracing for what was to come, because it wasn’t like his mother to call him just because she wanted to. Only because she needed something.

They’d gotten into this ugly pattern years ago, and he didn’t know how to break it. The only thing he’d been able to do was escape.

“Oh, good, I got you,” Carla said with relief. “I’m so stuck, Will. I’m hoping you can help me out.”

Of course she was hoping that. He didn’t even roll his eyes at this point because it was so expected.

“Whatcha need?” he asked. Trying not to be hurt that she hadn’t talked to him in at least two months and she hadn’t even bothered to ask how Cherry’s was going. The last time they’d talked, he’d brought up that business still hadn’t picked up in a way he’d been hoping it would—though of course, with the Sweethearts Festival, plus the warmer weather arriving and the town discovering him, that had changed.

“Oh, you know how we’re opening that big new store out on Tybee?” she asked.

He didn’t, actually, but he wasn’t surprised. Tybee Island was a big tourist draw, and it was exactly the kind of thing that Johnson’s would take advantage of. Honestly it was only a surprise that Johnson’s hadn’t set up shop there before.

“Seems like a good choice,” Will said.

“Well,” Carla said in a huff, “the manager we hired to take care of the opening, he flaked right out on us. And he came so highly recommended too. So many wonderful references.”

“That’s too bad.” Will thought he deserved a pat on the back or maybe even a gold star for keeping his voice so even, despite the fact that he knew exactly what was coming.

“It is,” Carla said, her tone exasperated.

He waited, hoping that she’d ask, and how are you doing? But she didn’t. He shouldn’t be surprised at this point—or even disappointed—but it turned out that even moving away and opening his own business hadn’t made him immune from the desire for his parents to be proud and interested in him.

“So,” she continued, “we’re searching for a replacement. The renovations are almost complete, the store just needs final touches, to be stocked, employees hired and trained, and the opening handled. We’ll be there for that weekend, of course. Us and Brewer. But we need someone to manage the opening.”

“Of course.” Will considered suggesting that Brewer, his older brother and not only the apple of his parents’ eye but their heir apparent, might bother himself to cover the gap, but if Brewer was willing or capable, then his mom wouldn’t be calling.

“But other than that, it wouldn’t be a huge time commitment. And you seemed like the obvious choice because your store’s been open for months now, surely it’s running itself by now.”

She hadn’t even asked, she’d just assumed.

Will sighed. “Cherry’s isn’t like Johnson’s.” He’d told her that a number of times. Enough times that it should’ve stuck, but it never had.

“I know that, but surely you can make a few weeks of time for family? We are really in a bind, Will.”

Before his move to Indigo Bay, he’d have said yes. He’d have given in and gone to Tybee and done exactly what his family needed from him—for probably very little acknowledgment or thanks, unless you counted the large bonus his father likely would’ve routed into his bank account—but now, not only did he not want to, but he couldn’t.

He’d planned and built and opened Cherry’s for so many reasons, but one of them undoubtedly was that when his family inevitably came calling, he had a very good reason to say no.

“I can’t,” Will said. “You know I can’t.”

“You have a manager, Will. I know you do. Why did you hire her if she wouldn’t be able to handle things while you were gone?” There was less judgment than disappointment in his mom’s voice. Curiosity too.

There was no question that Kate would grow into a good manager. But Cherry’s did a lot more than just sell bulk candy and fudge and simple ice cream cones and sundaes. Johnson’s didn’t make its own ice cream—but Cherry’s did. He’d known that making every single thing he served from scratch would be a ton more work. But he’d also known it would mean he couldn’t be at his family’s beck and call.

But more than that, it meant he could hold his head high and know that he was responsible for every smile, every sticky face, every kid cajoling his parents to go back.

Cherry’s had meant he could draw a line in the sand and not wiggle over it, even if he wanted to—and he didn’t, not really—because there was something more important than just his personal feelings now.

If his mother understood anything, she would understand that business trumped those, every single time.

“I can’t. You knew when I moved away, when I decided to open Cherry’s, I wouldn’t be able to help out as much. I told you that.”

She sighed. “You did, but you said not as much. Not when we really needed you, Will. And we really need you.”

Guilt swamped him. Maybe he should move heaven and earth to go to Tybee. To help them out, when they needed it.

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