Chapter Eleven
“You’re smiling an awful lot today,” Kate pointed out as he leaned against the long back counter during a break in the afternoon. “Must’ve been some date with Enzo Moretti last night.”
For a half a second, Will was almost tempted to tell Kate the truth. Because if he did, then he could confide her in that he’d woken up this morning—but it really hadn’t felt like he’d woken at all.
It still felt like he was dreaming.
“It was,” Will said, his smile deepening. He told himself he was just trying to be convincing, but it felt a lot closer to the truth than felt comfortable with. “He’s . . .well, he’s something else.”
Kate rolled her eyes, but the look in her gray eyes was warm and affectionate. “Yeah, he sure is. Caught you good, didn’t he?”
Will flushed. “Right. Uh, well, yeah. And he’s painting the mural, of course.”
“That all you want him to do?” she teased. “Paint your blank wall?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Will hesitated.
It was difficult to walk this fine line, but if he was really doing this, he’d say more.
Kate was a new employee and a newer friend but she was still a friend, and it wasn’t like he had a lot of those to choose from right now.
“He’s not sticking around. He doesn’t like it here, and the worst part is that I understand.
It’s why I didn’t want to stay in Florida. My family—”
“And you know, all the anti-LGBT policies,” Kate added with a serious, knowing nod.
“Right. Just . . .on one hand, part of me is like, what’s the point of starting something?
And on the other . . .why can’t we just enjoy each other for as long as he’s around?
Maybe he’d come back more often if he had reason to.
Maybe if we went all-in he’d change his mind? Love does that, doesn’t it?”
“Maybe.” Kate didn’t sound convinced—but Will wasn’t hardly convinced either. Try harder.
“All I know is that he’s not like anyone I’ve ever met,” Will said, punctuating that statement with the sappiest lovestruck sigh he could conjure. He wasn’t an actor; he was just doing his best.
He fully expected Kate’s expression to grow more skeptical still, but instead, she smiled. Soft and understanding. Maybe his acting was better than he’d imagined.
Or it’s not really acting.
“You’re down bad,” she said.
And well, maybe he was a little, but that was only because all these over-the-top declarations held a worrisome kernel of truth.
“Yeah,” Will agreed.
“When are you going out with him again?”
“Uh, I think we’re gonna share dinner again today. He’s still working on the mural—”
Kate laughed. “Like a sweaty, messed up Enzo, do you?”
He could lie—or he could tell one hundred percent of the truth.
“Yeah,” Will said, flushing. Still unsure which one he’d chosen.
His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out, glancing at the screen.
“I gotta take this,” he told Kate and ducked to the back, to his little office. He basically never shut the door, but he did this time.
“Hey, Mom,” he said. Felt himself already internally bracing for what was to come, because it wasn’t like his mother to call him just because she wanted to. Only because she needed something.
They’d gotten into this ugly pattern years ago, and he didn’t know how to break it. The only thing he’d been able to do was escape.
“Oh, good, I got you,” Carla said with relief. “I’m so stuck, Will. I’m hoping you can help me out.”
Of course she was hoping that. He didn’t even roll his eyes at this point because it was so expected.
“Whatcha need?” he asked. Trying not to be hurt that she hadn’t talked to him in at least two months and she hadn’t even bothered to ask how Cherry’s was going.
The last time they’d talked, he’d brought up that business still hadn’t picked up in a way he’d been hoping it would—though of course, with the Sweethearts Festival, plus the warmer weather arriving and the town discovering him, that had changed.
“Oh, you know how we’re opening that big new store out on Tybee?” she asked.
He didn’t, actually, but he wasn’t surprised. Tybee Island was a big tourist draw, and it was exactly the kind of thing that Johnson’s would take advantage of. Honestly it was only a surprise that Johnson’s hadn’t set up shop there before.
“Seems like a good choice,” Will said.
“Well,” Carla said in a huff, “the manager we hired to take care of the opening, he flaked right out on us. And he came so highly recommended too. So many wonderful references.”
“That’s too bad.” Will thought he deserved a pat on the back or maybe even a gold star for keeping his voice so even, despite the fact that he knew exactly what was coming.
“It is,” Carla said, her tone exasperated.
He waited, hoping that she’d ask, and how are you doing? But she didn’t. He shouldn’t be surprised at this point—or even disappointed—but it turned out that even moving away and opening his own business hadn’t made him immune from the desire for his parents to be proud and interested in him.
“So,” she continued, “we’re searching for a replacement.
The renovations are almost complete, the store just needs final touches, to be stocked, employees hired and trained, and the opening handled.
We’ll be there for that weekend, of course.
Us and Brewer. But we need someone to manage the opening. ”
“Of course.” Will considered suggesting that Brewer, his older brother and not only the apple of his parents’ eye but their heir apparent, might bother himself to cover the gap, but if Brewer was willing or capable, then his mom wouldn’t be calling.
“But other than that, it wouldn’t be a huge time commitment. And you seemed like the obvious choice because your store’s been open for months now, surely it’s running itself by now.”
She hadn’t even asked, she’d just assumed.
Will sighed. “Cherry’s isn’t like Johnson’s.” He’d told her that a number of times. Enough times that it should’ve stuck, but it never had.
“I know that, but surely you can make a few weeks of time for family? We are really in a bind, Will.”
Before his move to Indigo Bay, he’d have said yes.
He’d have given in and gone to Tybee and done exactly what his family needed from him—for probably very little acknowledgment or thanks, unless you counted the large bonus his father likely would’ve routed into his bank account—but now, not only did he not want to, but he couldn’t.
He’d planned and built and opened Cherry’s for so many reasons, but one of them undoubtedly was that when his family inevitably came calling, he had a very good reason to say no.
“I can’t,” Will said. “You know I can’t.”
“You have a manager, Will. I know you do. Why did you hire her if she wouldn’t be able to handle things while you were gone?” There was less judgment than disappointment in his mom’s voice. Curiosity too.
There was no question that Kate would grow into a good manager.
But Cherry’s did a lot more than just sell bulk candy and fudge and simple ice cream cones and sundaes.
Johnson’s didn’t make its own ice cream—but Cherry’s did.
He’d known that making every single thing he served from scratch would be a ton more work.
But he’d also known it would mean he couldn’t be at his family’s beck and call.
But more than that, it meant he could hold his head high and know that he was responsible for every smile, every sticky face, every kid cajoling his parents to go back.
Cherry’s had meant he could draw a line in the sand and not wiggle over it, even if he wanted to—and he didn’t, not really—because there was something more important than just his personal feelings now.
If his mother understood anything, she would understand that business trumped those, every single time.
“I can’t. You knew when I moved away, when I decided to open Cherry’s, I wouldn’t be able to help out as much. I told you that.”
She sighed. “You did, but you said not as much. Not when we really needed you, Will. And we really need you.”
Guilt swamped him. Maybe he should move heaven and earth to go to Tybee. To help them out, when they needed it.
“Can’t Dad go?”
“Well, he could, of course . . .” The way she trailed off made it clear that of course he could, but he didn’t want to.
Will couldn’t deny Patrick Johnson had already put his years and years of time in, traveling from one Johnson’s location to another, overseeing their expansion, managing the day-to-day operations, and now he didn’t want to anymore.
Will couldn’t blame him. It was a lot of work.
But that doesn’t mean you need to do it, either.
“Or Brewer?”
“He’s so busy, Will. He’s managing the whole chain. He can’t take the time out to open a store.”
Will wasn’t really surprised at that argument either. Brewer had never wanted to get his hands dirty with the actual running of the business. He preferred his suits to stay pristine, lording over everything from behind a desk.
“I’m sure you’ll find someone,” Will said. Ignoring, as best he could, the strong surge of responsibility he felt. “If I can think of anyone that could do it, I’ll let you know.”
“If that’s all you can do,” Carla said.
“It is,” Will said firmly. For her. For himself, too.
“Right.” She paused. “Is it going better, now that you’ve been open for a few months?”
“Yeah,” he said. “A lot better. We’re busy.”
“Good.” She sounded pleased at that, at least.
It wasn’t like Will didn’t think she’d ask at all.
Or care. She was too business-minded to ignore the fact that he’d come here, to Indigo Bay, and not just started another outcropping of Johnson’s, but something that was entirely his own concept.
Still, it hurt to know that played second fiddle to their own business concerns.