Page 48 of Legally Yours

I help my mother get up, and we give one another a long hug. I feel her slowly strengthening in my arms. She leaves my embrace. She smiles up at me. I escort her to the elevator.

“Dear, you promise me you’ll be all right?”

“I will. Look around this office. Look at me, Mother. I’m okay, aren’t I?”

My mother softly pats my chest. “Yes, I guess you are. You know, it’s hard for a mother to see her baby grow up to be a man. I look at your lovely face and your laughing eyes and all I see is my toddler playing with his toys, happy as a clam.”

I laugh. “I know, Mother. I know. Your boy is still inside my heart. He’ll never leave. He just knows how to step up now and take care of you for a change.”

My secretary interrupts us. She brings the picnic basket and offers it to Mother.

“Ah, yes, well, I’ll get this back to Eunice. It’s hers, after all.”

I smile and say nothing. I want to tell Mother that Eunice will find another sucker to fall for her passion for the picnic trade, but I know not to poke the general when I’ve already won the war.

The elevator car arrives, and Mother walks in. We both wave goodbye, then I watch the doors close. And for the first time in weeks, I truly breathe. I feel free. I still feel pain for Cassandra’s loss, but I truly feel free.

I return to my office with less of an emotional load and a resurgence of energy to go for what I want. More importantly, who I want.

39

CASSANDRA

My dreams of LA and modeling on either coast get temporarily cast aside. I know my parents need help with their convenience store business and truly, I can’t decide what my future should hold. So, back to a simple life I go. It’s freeing to think my world is shrinking, and I’m forgetting my past life.

“Cassandra, I don’t like how this all ended with Liam. The loss of your marriage and then your career. I love that you’re here with your mother and me, but I feel like I should have a chat with that man and set things straight. He hasn’t treated you right at all, not at all.”

“Dad, please believe me when I say it wasn’t like that at all. The marriage, the job. It was all my doing, my choices.”

“But I know you, sweet pea. You wouldn’t have left either if he hadn’t hurt you in some way. The man has to own up to his actions.”

“Dad, please just trust me for now, okay? I need space and time to heal. And working with you and mom will do the trick. Just please let sleeping dogs lie.”

My dad shakes his head no, but I can tell he’s willing to give up the fight for me, at least for the time being. “Dear, are you telling your mom and I the truth about everything?”

“I am. Maybe not the whole truth. I have to wrestle with that yet on my own. But yes, I’m here because I made my choices, and I want to be here. The modeling business is a tough game. I think I want an out right now. Maybe one day, once I know my own mind, I’ll explain it all to your both then. Just please, Dad, give me time to heal.”

Dad takes my hand and lovingly smiles. “If it’s time you need, you have it, Cassandra. Now, getting back to business. What’s your plan now that you’re back in the convenience store game?”

I lean on the store counter. “Dad, I think I’d like to open up another branch of the Bolkvadze convenience stores. Be my own boss. Manage it myself. I have the funds. It wouldn’t cost you anything out of pocket. You sell me the name to start a new franchise and that’s it. I keep your brand style and merchandise and service quality, of course. What do you think?”

Dad’s eyes pop open like it’s Christmas morning. He turns on his heels, opens the back cooler, and takes out a bottle of chilled champagne. He marches to the front and flips the opensign to closed. I look at him with quizzical eyes.

“What on Earth are you doing? You never close this store during business hours. And what’s with the champagne?”

“Daughter of mine, we have business to discuss with your mother and celebratory champagne to drink.”

I laugh. Dad and I hug, then I run upstairs, calling for my mom.

* * *

After weeksof finding the right location and refurbishing a derelict building, store two of the Bolkvadze convenience store chain opens with great neighborhood fanfare. Amid the balloons and bunting and the free public buffet, I look up at the polished sign and grin from ear to ear.

Bolkvadze Convenience. Cassandra Bolkvadze, Proprietor.

Mom and Dad hug me, and they cheer, fists pumping the air. I see by their twinkling eyes they couldn’t be more proud of their daughter than they are right now.

I returned as the prodigal daughter to the family business. What more pride could an immigrant family hold?

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