Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
“Are you sure?”
Squeezing my hands, she replies. “Very.” When she backs toward the register to pick up dusting it where she left off, she adds, “But I hope you still let me work here and there.”
“Of course. Anytime you want.”
“And since you mentioned it, I think you should expand, hire more employees, take a few days off each week, and take this place to the next level.”
I rush her, throwing my arms around her. “Thank you, Mom. I’ll make you so proud.”
When she turns in my arms, she hugs me tight. “You already have.”
Stepping back, I’m unsure what to do with myself. Celebrate or start planning? But then I stop, and ask, “What are you going to do?”
“The house and car were paid off years ago, so I’ll take some time and figure out my next adventure. Travel?” Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she laughs. “Or maybe I’ll become a small-town influencer on social media. I’m seeing a hole in the market.”
“I didn’t even know you were on social media outside of the ‘Book app.’”
“It’s addicting.” She walks by me, patting me on the arm. “I’m going to grab a sandwich for dinner tonight. I have a feeling you’re going to be too busy to come home with the planning you have ahead of you.”
I grin, almost unbearably so. Hope soars in ways I haven’t felt in years, making the possibilities seem limitless. Yes, the bubble will burst in some ways, but I’ve been preparing for that my whole life. I’m ready to hold on to this feeling for as long as I can.
𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐵𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑜𝑟 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘.
Wait, huh? Why would I share this with him?
Oh.
My.
God.
That man! He’s going to haunt me to my deathbed.
Pris will be over the moon. She’s wanted this for me forever. I’ll text her as soon as my mom takes off again. I say, “I promise to get the decorations down this weekend.”
The shrug is so insignificant that I almost miss it. “Don’t rush on my account. This is all yours now.” She pushes through the door to the back. When she returns with a paper-wrapped sandwich in her hands, she says, “Put it on my tab.”
“Never.” I give her one more hug before she leaves. “Thank you.”
“It’s well-earned. We can start on the paperwork in the next few days.” She cuts through the store toward the door but stops, and says, “I almost forgot to tell you. The apartment got rented.” My heart stops in my chest. “The reservation came in just before I left.”
“For which dates?”
“Prime time. Starting Thursday of the Peach Festival and running for a week in total. That’s our peak week. They already prepaid the full amount.”
My heart starts beating again, but this is the pit in the peach of being given the shop. The bad with the good. “What’s the name?”
“Single traveler out of New York. Mickey something booked it for his boss.” She does a little shoulder shake of excitement. “Who knew our little festival would attract fancy New Yorkers. She pushes through the door. “Love you, honey.”
“Love you.”
I’m happy about the money. That one reservation alone covers a quarter of the costs to build the apartment, so that’s a big win. But a New Yorker? How’d they even hear about our annual festival? “Yeah, who knew.”
CHAPTER 13
Baylor
I push the signed contract across the table.
The real estate attorney stands and offers his hand. As soon as I shake it, he says, “Congratulations. You just bought half of Main Street.”
“I consider it an investment in my hometown’s future.”
“A noble purchase?” he asks, stacking the papers and tucking them into a file.
“Not noble but needed. I believe it can be brought back to what it once was.”
He grins. “I’ve seen the pics. Was this in your lifetime or a bygone era?”
I glance at my attorney, Mark, who has made no qualms about his dislike for the other guy. His face is still soured by the joke he made about Texans not five minutes before asking me to sign the paperwork. I almost punched the fucker, but he represents the now-former owner of that strip of shops, so I pushed my pride down and focused on the matter at hand.
It's been years since Peachtree Pass has been active outside of the festival time of year. The farm and orchard get plenty of out-of-towners driving in for the day during spring and summer, even for pumpkins in the fall, but otherwise, half that strip center is sitting empty.
I reply, “It’s something I’ve wanted to do for some time. It was a great place to grow up. I want that for other families. That starts with bringing more business to the area.”
He comes around the table, heading for the door. “Sounds like you’re ready to move back.”
Moving back isn’t that foreign of an idea. Everyone from my dad to my best friend mentions it regularly. Tagger did a few years back, so of course, it’s crossed my mind a time or two. It’s a nice reprieve from the city, a slower pace that gives me room to think about stuff other than my clients’ portfolios and how the stock market is doing.