Page 25 of Quintessentially

“Well, lucky for him, I’m headed back to Washington to the hotel. Although, I doubt he’s happy with the twenty-minute separation, probably wants me back in Chicago.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

ChapterTen

Kandace

My mind is a blur. Early this morning I received an email from Mr. Murphy asking for a complete inventory of the store and invoices dating back to before Ruth passed. I’d already provided the same information, but now he is asking for up-to-date figures. Some of the merchandise we sell—or I should say that Quintessential Treasures does—is consignment rather than purchased. For example, Judy Sams, Cory Sams’s wife, creates a line of lotions, natural with a range of scents. She just expanded into lip balm. Her folks still own a small orchard, and she’s been working on amazing apple fragrances. They sell very well. Instead of buying the product from her, I rent her shelf space in the store.

The panic set in as soon as I finished reading the email. By the time Joyce brought Molly back for school, I think she could tell that I was frazzled. Our talk was quick with a rundown of Molly’s breakfast and how my daughter helped her make sandwiches for her lunch.

Now, it’s after eight at night and I’m still stressed. The books are up to date, but all day I’ve been nagged with worry. Is this sudden need for updated information because Dax doesn’t want to sell the store, or he doesn’t want to sell it to me or possibly for the price Ruth stipulated? The whole money exchange is meant to help me by purchasing not inheriting.

If she’d just left Quintessential Treasures to me, this would be done.

The store has been closed for over two hours. Molly ate dinner from the diner because I’m a terrible mother and there isn’t a kitchen upstairs—yet—and I can’t take her out to the farm until I go through everything in the back room.

Not that Molly is complaining.

Currently, she’s in the small office off the back room watching the newest Disney release and eating popcorn I made in a bag in the microwave that was once in Justin’s dorm room. I won’t even mention how hard I worked to clean that sucker out.

I turn with a start as the back door opens.

My eyes are wide and my heart thumps as my mom enters, still wearing her scrubs from work.

“Hi,” she says softly. “Can I help?”

My entire body sags as I let the tears I’ve been holding back flow. Within seconds, Mom has me wrapped in her arms. “It will be all right.”

I shake my head against her shoulder and pull myself together. Standing straight, I wipe my cheeks with the back of my hands, no doubt spreading the dust and dirt from the boxes and shelves.

She looks at me with her soft blue eyes, close to the color of mine. “I can stay here all night and Dad will come get Molly and put her to bed, or I can take her home and get her settled. You tell me what you want.”

I try to scoff with my head pounding. “What I want…that’s a tall order.”

She glances into the office seeing Molly and reaches for my hand. Soon we’re out to the front of the store. The closed sign is in the window, and the large shades are pulled, covering most of the glass. She leads me to two stools behind the counter.

We sit.

“Ruth loved you and Molly,” Mom says. “She worked this out. Believe in her.”

Inhaling, I nod. “I believe in Ruth.”

“Not Dax.”

My shoulders slump. “I don’t know what to believe, Mom. He is…” There were so many ways to end that sentence.

Her hand lands on my knee. “I’ve found that when you love someone, it’s hard to not love them. Instead, we find reasons to not like them.”

“Like? I don’t have time to like or dislike Daxton Richards.” I sigh. “He was my first love…my first everything.”

“You didn’t tell him about Molly. How was he to know?”

“I tried, but I was afraid. It was easier to stay determined than to let him know and have him turn away from me again.” I look down at my dusty jeans and back up. “I can’t bear another rejection.”

“How would you feel if you found out that you were an aunt, that Justin has a child you and he don’t know about?”

“Wait? Is there? Does he?”

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