38. Olivia
Chapter 38
Olivia
“I’m selling the bakery and moving back to Atlanta,” I said without ceremony. My mother nearly choked on her Mojito. The brim of her floppy hat bounced comically as she pounded the side of her fist against her chest to clear her throat.
“What?” she squeaked out between coughs. We were sitting on her patio, catching up while her husband, Tom, grilled steaks for dinner. “I thought you decided to stay. I’ve barely seen you,” she pouted, and I frowned. It wasn’t like she didn’t have the opportunity to see me. She was the one who left the country for weeks after Nan’s funeral. She called once to let me know she was back and stopped by the bakery briefly to see the newly remodeled space. If I hadn’t called her yesterday to let her know I wanted to see her, I wouldn’t be here now.
“I changed my mind,” I said, feigning confidence I didn’t feel. “And I’ll be here for a few more weeks, I’m sure. I still need to find a new job, and even if the bakery sells right away, it will take time to sort everything out,” I offered, hoping to ease the sting.
“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Mom asked, leaning forward and gripping my hand. Stunned by the sincerity and concern in her voice, I faltered.
“Yes?” The word came out more as a question than a statement.
“This doesn’t have anything to do with Landon Crawford, does it?” Stunned, I gaped at her. Her face softened, and she squeezed my hands. “I realize we don’t talk much, and I haven’t been here for you like I should’ve been, but I still know what’s going on in my daughter's life.” She offered me a sympathetic smile. “I don’t want you to let another of those Crawford boys run you out of town again.”
“It-it’s not that,” I claimed. At least that wasn’t the whole reason. “I never wanted to come back and live here. Nan knew that. I still can’t figure out why she left me the bakery. It wasn’t what I wanted. Still, I tried. For her, I tried to make it work, but I can't. I hate letting her down, but I just can’t do it.” My voice cracked, and my eyes burned with unshed tears. My mom reached for me and pulled me into a hug. It was such a surprise, it took me a moment to register what was happening and return her embrace.
“Oh, honey, you’re not letting anyone down. Mama would understand,” she assured me, running a soothing hand over my hair.
“What about you? I know the bakery was never your passion, and you don’t want to take on another business, but are you okay with it leaving the family?” She sighed and pulled away.
“I’m not exactly thrilled at the idea of it being owned by someone other than a Duprey, but I won’t begrudge you your decision. I just want you to be happy. If selling the bakery and going back to Atlanta will make you happy, then I fully support your decision.”
“I want to keep her house,” I admitted. Maybe someday I’d be able to let go of it, but I grew up there. It felt like home. It was where I felt the most grounded. I couldn't stand to lose that piece of her.
“I’m glad,” Mom said, taking a sip from her drink. “We have a lot of good memories in that house.”
We sure did.
The for sale sign went up in the bakery the following week. I had a few interviews lined up in Atlanta soon and wanted to get the ball rolling.
I heard through the grapevine that Lyle was immediately arrested upon discharge from the hospital. Apparently, he had enough narcotics on him for ten people. I hated that his life had taken such a drastic turn after the accident. If I could go back and change it, I would. Part of me wondered if that would’ve made any difference, or if he would’ve inevitably ended up on the same path.
My heart ached for Landon. He loved his brother dearly. This had to be hurting him, knowing his brother could go away for a very long time. But perhaps it was the best thing for Lyle. He would have no choice but to get clean. Maybe this was his chance at a fresh start.
Just like moving back to Atlanta was mine.