Chapter 18 #2
“For years,” she went on, her eyes fixed on the tabletop, “I told myself that keeping the peace was the same as keeping the family together. Gerald… cheated on me, over and over. I don’t think that was ever a secret.
At least I always knew.” She gave a humorless laugh.
“I just didn’t want to be the one who blew everything up. ”
My chest ached. “Mom…”
“I stayed, at first, because you two were so young. I kept telling myself that it would be easier for you both,” she admitted.
“And because the world told me I should stay. Because I thought sacrificing my happiness was the price of stability.” Her gaze lifted to mine, sharp and clear.
“I won’t do that anymore. And I won’t dare ask you to either.
Levi is a snake. He always has been and always will be, just like Gerald. ”
Tears burned, sudden and unwelcome. I blinked them back. “Dad makes me feel like my happiness doesn’t matter. Like it’s… collateral damage.”
Her jaw tightened. “It’s not. And it never was, or never should have been.” She reached across and lightly took my hand, squeezing it and letting it go quickly. “Don’t listen to a thing that man says. He’s growing desperate now that his bank account is suffering.”
My mother wasn’t one for physical affection, even with her daughter.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
She released my hand and started eating again. “The moment I filed for divorce, Max shut him out. If you don’t work, you don’t get paid.”
“Max did that?” I asked.
My mother nodded. “It’s sensible. He’s been bleeding the business for years.
It’s one of the reasons I had Max take over a while back.
I didn’t have the backbone to stop your father from spending the money on all those…
” She stopped herself and took a low deep breath before shaking her head.
“He’s been spending what little money he still has on trying to stay in the right circles.
Acting as if he isn’t going dry.” She smiled.
“I’d wager he only has a few months left of living high on the hog until his accounts are due.
He wants more from me in the divorce so he can continue that lifestyle he doesn’t deserve.
” She leaned closer. “Did I ever tell you that it was my parents’ money that started Sharper Image? ”
I nodded slowly. “I think I knew that.”
“What your father doesn’t know is, I don’t need a dime from the business.
My parents set up a trust fund years ago for me.
Since daddy died, my mother has control of that trust. She’s changed her will and when she passes, everything will get split between the three of us evenly.
Since you and Max are their only grandchildren, she thought it was only fair to include you. ”
“I…” I didn’t know what to do with that information.
“Your father won’t see a dime. Once the divorce is final, I plan on handing over Sharper Image to Max. He can do what he sees fit with it.”
“But you’re still going to work there?”
She smiled and for the first time in a very long time, I saw pure joy on her face. “Yes. I missed it. Not just the dancing, but the lifestyle. The work. The costumes. Watching young dancers grow.” She closed her eyes. “Seeing people come together and make something beautiful.”
This time I reached across the table and took her hand.
We sat in silence for a moment, the kind that felt heavy but honest.
“I need to tell you something,” I said finally, heart thudding.
She waited.
“I’ve moved in with Cade. We’ve, we’re together.”
Her brows rose slightly, not in shock, not in disapproval. Just surprise.
Then she leaned back in her chair and let out a slow breath. “Well,” she said, a small smile tugging at her lips, “it’s about damn time.”
I blinked. “That’s it?”
She reached across the table and squeezed my hand again, this time lingering longer. “I have always liked Cade. He sees you for who you are. He always has.” Her eyes softened. “If you’re happy, Missy, then I’m happy for you.”
Something in my chest loosened. Not completely, it never really did, but enough that I could breathe.
“Mom?” I waited until our eyes met. “I’m sorry.”
Her smile was quick. “Oh honey, you have nothing to be sorry about. I’m happy for you.
Really.” She glanced around and sighed. “Now that I’ve seen this town, and what you’ve made here, I realize how lovely it is.
I can see why you and Max love it here. I’m tempted to spend as much time up here as I can.
Someday.” She leaned back again. “If things go well with the divorce, maybe I will get a summer home here.” She winked at me.
I laughed. “That would be wonderful.”
The strange thing was, I really meant it. A lot had changed in my mother over the past few months. Was she even the same person?
I left the café with a lightness in my step that surprised me. Not joy exactly—things between my mother and me were still too complicated for that—but a quiet steadiness, like something long out of alignment had finally clicked into place.
The rest of the workday flew by quickly. While I finished the handful of orders in the back, Brit closed up shop in the front.
Cade phoned and said he was going to head home and start work on the bathroom upstairs. I mentioned that I’d stop by and get us something for dinner once I was done dropping off the keys for my old apartment to Crystal.
Since it was nice out, I decided to walk the couple blocks to Holley Hall.
The old historic house rose up ahead of me, elegant, proud, and impossibly well cared for.
The cream-colored clapboard and the tall windows framed in white always made me smile.
The massive wraparound porch looked like it belonged in another century.
It was the kind of house that carried stories in its walls.
Cade’s place, our place, was nice, but Holley Hall was incredible.
I climbed the front steps and rang the doorbell.
Crystal Holley answered the door barefoot, as she usually was, wearing a flowing linen dress in soft shades of teal and cream. Her long blonde hair hung loose down her back, catching the light like spun silk. She smiled the moment she saw me, warm and knowing, like she always did.
“Missy,” she said gently. “Come on in.”
“No, thanks, I just came by to drop off the keys,” I told her, holding them up. “I wanted to say thank you for giving me a place to stay until I got settled. Not to mention selling my building to me.” I chuckled. “Thank you for, well, everything.”
Her smile softened further. “You lived here with such good energy,” she said, taking the keys but not looking at them. “This place will miss you.”
Rory’s voice drifted in from somewhere deeper in the house, asking if that was me. Crystal tilted her head toward the dining room. “Yes.”
“We’re just about to eat. Stay. Please,” she offered.
The invitation was sincere, the kind that wrapped around you like a warm shawl, but I shook my head.
“Another time,” I said. “I promised Cade that I’d pick us up some dinner.”
Crystal stepped closer and kissed my cheek, her voice lower. “You’re exactly where you’re meant to be, you know. Your aura is pulsing.”
My throat tightened. “Thank you, again.” I turned and headed back down the steps.
By the time I reached my car in the bakery parking lot, the sun was setting. Sweet Expectations stood there, quiet and dark.
Except...
My steps slowed as I reached for the door handle of my car.
The back door was ajar.
That wasn’t right. I had locked it myself less than a half hour ago when I’d left for the night.
A prickle of unease crawled up my spine as I crossed the parking lot. I told myself it was nothing. That I must’ve forgotten to latch the door completely. That I was being paranoid.
The moment I pushed the door open and turned on the light inside, my world shattered.
The smell hit first. Instantly, I could tell something was burning, and I could see smoke slowly filling the room.
I rushed in, looking everywhere for the fire, but I couldn’t help but notice the mess.
Cakes. Cupcakes. Pies.
Everywhere.
They had been pulled from the refrigerators and were smashed against the walls.
Some were ground into the floor. Frosting was smeared like graffiti, colors bleeding together in sickening swirls.
Trays were overturned. Bakery boxes were ripped open.
The beautiful wedding cake that I’d finished earlier that evening was ruined, completely destroyed.
Even my big mixer lay on its side, cracked, metal bent like it had been kicked over and over again.
“Oh my God…” I whispered as I continued to look for the cause of the smoke.
Then I turned toward the oven. I must not have been thinking straight. It should have been the first place I looked.
The light was on and the door was slightly open. There was a towel shoved inside that was on fire. Bright orange flames shot almost five feet out of the door as more smoke billowed out toward the ceiling.
Suddenly, the fire alarm started blaring.
Without thinking, I rushed over and grabbed the fire extinguisher from under the counter, yanked the pin, and sprayed until my arms shook and the fire hissed into nothing but smoke and ash. My lungs burned and I coughed while tears streaked down my face.
The silence after the fire was out was deafening.
My knees gave out and I sat down hard on the floor in a pile of cake and icing. I was surrounded by destruction. By hours of work, of hope, of belief, that had been ruined in minutes.
My hands shook as I pulled my phone from my pocket.
First I called Cade.
He answered on the second ring.
“Hey, did you...” He started to ask cheerfully, then stopped. “What’s that noise?”
“Cade?” I whispered through tears.
His voice sharpened instantly. “What’s wrong? Is that the fire alarm?”
“It’s the bakery,” I choked. “Someone broke in. They destroyed everything. Cade… they tried to burn it down. I got the fire out.”
“I’m on my way,” he said, no hesitation. “Call the police. I’ll be there in five.”
I could already hear the fire truck’s sirens far away and getting closer as I hung up. I vaguely heard the fire alarm that was still blaring loudly, causing my ears to ring.
I dialed 9-1-1. This time my voice was steadier as I spoke with the dispatcher and relayed my details. When I hung up, the fire truck was parked out back.
Men in full fire gear rushed in the back door. After seeing that the fire was out, they told me that they would check the rest of the building for me.
I slid onto a stool and wrapped my arms around my knees, staring at the mess like it might rearrange itself if I looked hard enough.
This wasn’t random.
This was anger.
This was personal.
And somewhere beneath the fear and shock, something else began to rise.
Resolve.
Levi thought he could scare me. He thought he could take my dream from me. He was wrong.
Very wrong.