Lyrics of a Small Town - Page 89

“Can we talk about this in private?” she asked with her teeth clenched.

“Nope. Rio can hear whatever you have to say and as you can see he is eating,” I told her.

My mother shot him an annoyed glare then crossed her arms over her chest. “So you find out these things and you are now planning on what? Staying here in The Shores? Working at a coffee shop for Hillya? You have one year left of college, remember? Or did you decide to settle down here and give up your dreams of owning your own boutique?”

This was something that had needed to be said a long time ago but I hadn’t wanted to upset my mother or let her down. I put my coffee on the counter and then looked at her. It was time I told her the truth too.

“Those were your dreams, Mom. That’s your boutique. That was what you wanted. Not me. I never wanted it. You just told me I did. I don’t enjoy fashion. I’m not good at it. But I am good at something else and you always acted like it was a hobby and I believed it was too. Until I came here and realized I could have a future doing what I loved. I can still finish college and in fact I intend to. I want my business degree. I just don’t want it so that I can own a boutique.”

My mother looked at me as if I had just spoken another language that she didn’t understand. “What hobby do you think you can have a career at, Henley? I’ve built that boutique and the brand. It’s ready to expand and even franchise. We planned this. We worked for it.”

I shook my head. “No. You planned it. Not me. And baking, Mom. I love creating new things. I love taking recipes and making them dairy-free and gluten-free. I enjoy the challenge to make it good. To make something people want.”

She laughed then. A hard, cold laugh. “You are joking, right? That college degree you have worked for, you think you can use to bake cookies? Henley, that is insane. You can’t make a living doing something like that.”

“Hillya does,” I replied.

“Hillya bakes regular things most people eat and she makes coffee drinks. That is not the same thing,” my mother shot back, looking pleased with herself.

“This past month I began making gluten, dairy, and nut-free things for Hillya’s shop. Every morning, they sell out. Every day, someone new comes in because they heard we have the things I bake. Hillya said that fifty percent of last month’s revenue was from the things I baked and the coffee drinks I created for allergy-sensitive people.”

My mother sniffed and shook her head as if she didn’t believe me. She was running out of argument and I could see it on her face. She was difficult and headstrong. She was also vain and selfish, but she was mine. She was the only mother I would ever have and I loved her despite her flaws. I loved her despite the fact she lied to me.

However, I could love her and choose my own path. I was done letting her decide for me because I didn’t want to upset her. The fact was my mother was always upset about something. It was just how she was. I had just given her something new to be upset about.

“Your plan is to live in this house, work for Hillya and then what? Take over her place one day? That’s what you want?” she asked, some of her steam was gone.

I shrugged. “Right now I don’t have a plan. I don’t know that I am staying here. All I know is that I don’t have to make a decision overnight. I have time.”

Mother reached up and tucked a dark strand of her hair behind her ear. She fidgeted when she was upset or anxious. My changing things on her had done both. She liked knowing what the future held. It was the reason for her constant state of aggravation. Since she wasn’t a fortune teller.

“I have a boutique to run. I can’t stay here and talk sense into you. Since Will died, you’ve been changing. This shouldn’t surprise me. But I will give you time. You’ll come to your senses. I think your gran passing has put more of a strain on you than I realized. I’ll just go back home and when you are ready to join me, I’m there.”

I would never be ready to join her back there again. That much I did know.

“Drive safe,” I told her. “And Mom, I love you.”

She took a deep breath and stepped forward to give me a brief hug before moving back. “I love you too, of course,” she replied. My mother was so different than her parents, I often wondered how she came from them.

Tags: Abbi Glines Romance
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