Page 2 of Falling for You Again

“I don’t see it.” I flip through papers, fanning corners, searching for Jackson’s lumberman logo, only to stop cold at a printed email dated a few weeks back. “What’s this?” I mumble to myself, picking up the paper.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Letter of Intent Regarding Potential Acquisition of Artisant Designs

Dear Mr. Bernard Hynes,

Thank you for informing the Savant House, Inc. of your desire to sell Artisant Designs, LLC. This letter serves as the preliminary expression of our company’s interest in acquiring Artisant Designs. We are impressed ...

I stop reading as a hollow, sinking sensation forms inside me. As if each printed word carves away a little piece of my dream. The paper shakes in my hand. I’m supposed to inherit the shop. Uncle Bear promised it would go to me.

“Are you selling the shop?”

Mom spins around in her office chair at my stunned shout. Dad turns off the saw, the blade’s whine petering out. Kidder, who was helping himself to a fresh coffee, freezes with the mug halfway to his mouth. Everyone looks at my uncle, but I seem to be the only one shocked by this news.

Uncle Bear rubs the side of his neck. “Aw, Meli, you weren’t supposed to have seen that.” He sounds genuinely disgruntled.

“You promised me the shop when you retire.”

Uncle Bear drags a hand down his cheek. “You don’t want it. It’s too much trouble. The cost of lumber these days, the machinery upkeep ...” He shakes his head.

“That’s why you’re selling?” It doesn’t make sense. The shop has had its share of bumps and bruises over the years—recessions, pandemic lockdowns, competition, supply shortages—and we’ve dealt with them. We usually come out stronger on the other end of a crisis. Customers always return because of our expert craftsmanship and the way we embrace our materials’ imperfections and aesthetic resonance. These days, you can’t easily find the quality we produce.

“Told you she wasn’t going to like this,” Dad says.

“Exactly why we didn’t want her to know, Dean,” Uncle Bear snaps at his younger brother. “Not yet. It’s too soon,” he says, confirming everyone knew but me.

“Did you know?” I ask Kidder in disbelief.

He vigorously shakes his head. “I didn’t know.”

Okay, then. Everyone except me and the intern.

Kidder does his best to look small over by the coffee bar, which isn’t easy for such a tall, lanky guy. His eyes dart about the shop as if he’s looking for an escape hatch.

That’s one disadvantage of working for a family business. You can get caught in the middle of their family squabbles.

Speaking of families, what will happen to mine if we don’t have Artisant Designs to hold us together? I always figured my parents would continue to work with me after Uncle Bear retired. He might be ten years older than Dad, but I didn’t expect him to retire for another five to eight years. Grandpa Walt had worked until his late sixties.

I read more of the letter. The Savant House will acquire all assets, tangible and intangible, that are owned by the seller.

“My designs.” They are copyrighted under Artisant. I’ll lose years of work. “How could you do this to me?” I feel violated.

“We did itforyou. You’ll be happier at Savant.”

I gape at Dad. “Excuse me?”

“Damn you, Dean.” Uncle Bear smacks his gloves against the lumber pile. “We talked about this.”

My stomach churns with dread. “Talked about what?”

“He didn’t want to tell you until the deal is signed,” Mom explains. “We know how much your heart has been set on taking over the shop.”

“Unbelievable.” Uncle Bear tosses up his hands, fed up with my parents.

Dad rubs the side of his nose, fixing eyes a shade lighter than my brown ones on the floor. Kidder retreats until the counter bites into his back. Watching us warily, he sets down his mug like a rabbit ready to bolt.

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