Page 57 of Falling for You Again

Uncle Bear thrusts the paper at me. “What the devil have you done?”

I know he’s asking about Aaron and me, but I hear myself saying, “What do you mean?”

“Read it,” he demands, his rage deepening the grooves in his face.

I read the printout of an email he received not less than fifteen minutes ago.

Dear Bernard,

Please accept my apologies for not getting back to you sooner, but I’d been waiting on an internal audit before we spoke. Unfortunately, I have bad news. The Savant House has made the difficult decision to withdraw our offer for Artisant Designs LLC. This decision was not taken lightly, and the Savant House sincerely regrets any inconvenience or disruption this may cause. After careful consideration and further due diligence, we have determined that acquiring Artisant Designs LLC is no longer an attractive venture.

Sweet satisfaction ripples through me. I can barely contain my glee. “Savant retracted their offer?” I ask, too giddy to finish reading the letter. I look at my family for confirmation despite holding the proof in my hands.

Mom immediately calls me out. “Don’t play dumb, Melissa.”

I wince. She hasn’t used my proper name in years.

“Did you ask why they don’t want the shop?”

“I did.” Uncle Bear plants his fists on his waist. “They gave me some bullshit about corporate governance issues, possible manipulation from both parties, and the loss of our key employee.”

That would be me since I was no longer part of the deal.

“You know what else they told me?” Uncle Bear’s complexion turns the same ruddy shade of the building’s brick siding. He throws out his arms. “‘Congratulations!’ Like an idiot, I asked what for.”

“Is it true?” Mom rubs her arms as if she’s chilled. “Are you married to Aaron Borland, the CEO’s son?” Her gaze drops to my naked ring finger, seeking proof that isn’t there. I don’t wear jewelry at the shop. It’s too dangerous around the equipment.

“What have you done?” Uncle Bear yells, and regret fills me even though this is exactly what I wanted to happen. Marrying Aaron was the right thing to do. I couldn’t wait to call him and share the news. Our plan worked. But never in the nineteen years since Uncle Bear became my legal guardian has he yelled at me the way he just did.

I lift my chin. “The only thing I could to save the shop.”

“What do you think I was trying to do?” He smacks the paper I’m holding.

“We did this for you.”

I look at Mom, not understanding what she meant. “I don’t get it. You’re selling off the shop when I want it. Why aren’t you selling it to me?”

“Did you read the entire letter?” Uncle Bear growls.

I didn’t, and I’m starting to clue in that something has gone over my head. With a shaking hand, I finish the email.

Please note this in no way affects the purchase of the property located at 10 South Street. That deal will proceed as planned and negotiated. Our site selection team is eager to see this matter through. Escrow will close on schedule in a matter of weeks.

It’s been a pleasure working with you, and I appreciate the time and cooperation you’ve shown during our correspondence.

Regards,

Shelbie Wright

Director of Acquisitions

“You’re selling the building?” I shriek.

“Why did you think I was selling the shop?”

“I have no fucking idea because you didn’t tell me anything.” I point at my family. “Not a single one of you.”

But he’s right. I’ve been so focused on stopping the sale of the business that it never occurred to me Uncle Bear was selling Artisant because he’d sold the building along with the land underneath it. Like the shop, the building has held our family together for three generations. I just assumed I’d pay Uncle Bear rent when he transferred the shop ownership to me when he retired, just as he’d done when Grandpa Walt retired.

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