Page 26 of Falling for You Again

After I shower and change into my coveralls and boots, I give Blueberry breakfast and some much-needed attention because I don’t usually work on Saturdays. I then head out for the shop. On the way down, the elevator stops on my parents’ floor.

“Oh, hello, Meli,” Mom says, surprised to see me there. This isn’t the first time we’ve run into each other on the elevator. Yet she always seems shocked when we do.

“Going down?” I ask.

“Yes.” Her gaze drops to my boots. “Off to the shop?” she asks, stepping into the elevator. She’s wearing high-waisted jeans that hug her round hips, white sneakers, and a white shirt with orange and pink roses printed along the neckline and sleeve hems. Her overstuffed, worn leather purse hangs from her shoulder. She has several reusable shopping bags tucked under her arm.

“I have to finish Isadora’s table since I left early on Thursday.” I push the button to close the doors. Mom stands apart from me, facing the doors. She’s quiet as the elevator descends. “How’s Dad? Is he at the shop?”

“He might be. He and your uncle were heading to the Cape for a delivery.”

Shoot.I glance at my phone. Hopefully I can make it before they leave.

Mom chances a look at me and smiles. I smile back. She looks forward again.

“So, um ... what about you? Where are you headed?” I ask.

“I thought I’d go to the farmers market, then the library. There’s a new Nora Roberts book they’re holding for me.”

I almost ask if I can join her. The question is right there on the tip of my tongue. A sunny morning with Mom sounds like my ideal way to spend a Saturday. An ideal morning that would only work if Mom andI had a closer relationship. We could talk about books and pick out our favorite local vegetables. Maybe I would buy her a honey wax candle or she would invite me over for dinner. We’d make a salad with the fruit and lettuce we bought at the market. But I have too much work left on Isadora’s table and a business plan I need to start drafting if I have any hope of qualifying for a loan. I also know Mom will politely decline. I spare myself the disappointment.

The elevator settles on the ground floor. “When you get to work on Monday, can you send me some numbers?” I ask. “I only need a few spreadsheets. I’ll email you a list.”

She frowns. “Whatever for?”

“I’m putting together a business plan. I’m going to apply for a loan and make Uncle Bear an offer for the shop.”

“Don’t be silly, Meli. The shop has run its course. Let your uncle handle it. He already has a buyer.”

“What if the buyer falls through?” And they will, I want to tell her. “Shouldn’t he keep his options open until the deal closes?”

“Everything has already been arranged with the Savant House,” Mom says as the elevator doors open and she steps out.

“But I don’t want to go work for them,” I argue, still grappling with my shock and anger. Uncle Bear was the one man I thought I could count on who understood my craft is, and always will be, my first and only love, and that Artisant Designs will forever be the one place I feel is home.

Mom hums behind a forced close-lipped smile. “Have a wonderful day,” she says, failing to acknowledge that I’m having a hard time with Uncle Bear’s decision. “I’ll see you at work on Monday.” She quickly leaves the building with me gaping after her.

The elevator doors start to close. I throw my hand up to stop them and hurry after her. I look up and down the sidewalk, but she’s gone. She must have snagged a cab. Also gone is my chance to talk her over to my side. Someone has to help me convince Uncle Bear to hear my proposal.

And that certainly isn’t Dad. He never opposes anything his brother says. If anyone in our family is a pushover, it’s my dad. But I’ll never forgive myself if Savant, or any other company, acquires Artisant Designs and I didn’t at least try to talk my parents into helping me.

When I arrive at the shop, Dad and Uncle Bear are in the alley, loading up the old U-Haul my uncle bought used at a deep discount years ago. The shop’s roll-up door is open. Sawdust motes dance in the late morning sunlight. Uncle Bear heaves an oak side table onto the truck bed. Dad waits nearby with the matching coffee table.

“Nice to see you again,” Dad says when I join them. “Wasn’t sure you were coming back,” he teases with a wink.

“Wasn’t in the mood to work yesterday.” Not after I stormed out on Thursday.

“Still angry?” Dad lifts the coffee table onto the truck bed when Uncle Bear motions he’s ready for it.

“Do you think Uncle Bear should sell the shop to Savant?”

Dad shrugs, looking at the ground. I’m disappointed he won’t say anything. Either he refuses to oppose Uncle Bear’s decision or he’s going along with it because Artisant has to be sold for some reason I’m not privy to.

“What are you and Mom going to do without the shop? Where are you going to work?”

“Not sure. We haven’t figured that out yet.”

“You don’t have a plan?” My parents hardly have any retirement put aside. I know that because Mom’s always complaining they don’t have money. Dad likes to spend. “Is there any way I can convince you to help me talk him out of selling? I’ll keep the business running. You and Mom can work with me. We’ll continue as we have been.” And we’ll stay together.

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