Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
My flower-patterned overalls and light makeup have nothing to do with the grand opening celebration at Reel Haven. I woke up excited to have a gigantic project under my belt; end of story. This is simply a reflection of how good I feel on the inside.
I almost believe the lie as I unlock the door to Joiner’s Hardware.
Hitting the lights, I study the interior.
It’s uninspiring. Helping Korren with Reel Haven made me view my family legacy with fresh eyes.
We could do with an upgrade. Walking the square footage, I’m drawn to the empty area in the back of the store.
I always envisioned it as a hobby section that taught classes in the evenings.
There’s plenty of room for a few more shelves for starters.
A small bubble of excitement builds. I go through the opening procedures robotically, because my mind has done something miraculous; it’s dreaming again.
The road ahead of me has been a dark, desolate wasteland for too long.
Quieting the negative voices and trying to rise above the disappointment and self-doubt forced me to ask myself What if?
Most of my best ideas start with that simple query. Grabbing a tape measure from behind the counter and a notebook, I get lost in potential. The bell above the door rings, and I look up.
“Dad?”
He waves, holding the door open so my mother can enter first. It’s one of the first times he’s been back here. I stand up straight, wondering what this place looks like under my control. Is he pleased with me?
“Morning, Phil.” His gaze caresses the interior as if he’s greeting old friends. In a way, I suppose he is.
Mom walks over to hug me. I hold out my notebook and return her embrace.
“Morning. What brings you guys to town?” I look from Mom to Dad.
“Thought we’d see the work you did on Reel Haven. Korren invited us.” He leans on his cane a little more heavily. I can sense he’s pleased to be included, even though he’s still building up his strength.
“We’re so proud of you, honey. Maybe you could work your magic on other businesses and make them flourish. It’d be like revitalizing the town one shop at a time,” she gushes excitedly.
My eyes dart to my father. People always shot down those kinds of suggestions immediately in the past. “I don’t know about that, Mom. It’s been a while since we’ve had any modernization in Chance Falls. I’m not sure they’d welcome me changing their favorite places.”
Chest tight, I brush aside her praise as I wait for my father to speak. Parents have a way of turning small molehills you stepped over into mountains you climbed.
She clucks her tongue. “Don’t underestimate your abilities and people’s needs. You’ve always been far too hard on yourself. Besides, this town needs fresh things, isn’t that right, Bill?”
Coughing to hide my gasp, I study his face from under my lashes. He grunts. Disappointment dampens my mood.
“We figured we could watch the shop later to give you a chance to visit. Just give us a bit to say hello,” Dad replies, ignoring our conversation.
Nothing’s changed. There goes the last excuse I had for avoiding Korren. The Lantern Festival rewired my brain. It woke up frozen pieces of my soul. Yelling into the falls helped me shake off the blocks of ice that held me bound to my rage.
It set the wheel of life in motion again. Our interactions are different. We have a relationship, no, a friendship I’m enjoying. Whatever happened to him before he came to Chance Falls seems to have shaped him for the better. He’s centered in a way I envy. His peace is a vibe I sun in like a cat.
His steadiness anchors me, silencing the loud ticking of the clock in my head that taunts me.
Every day I woke here previously felt like time running through an hourglass as I tried to piece together the fragments of my former life into a puzzle that made sense.
His presence and passion for Reel Haven have planted a mustard seed of hope.
“That’s thoughtful. I was worried I’d miss it.”
Mom pats my hand. “We figured. You always work too hard. Just like your father.” She rolls her eyes playfully.
“Chip off the old block,” Dad says, sounding proud.
“I’ll head over now. I’m sure your father wants to talk shop.
” Stepping away, she leaves in a cloud of citrus and rosemary.
I admire her smart jeans paired with high black boots and a lightweight lavender coat.
Her graying hair flows around her shoulders in soft waves.
Mom always looks put-together. I modeled my corporate style after hers: chic, classic style paired with natural makeup.
“You look like you’re cooking up a new idea in here.” Dad looks at the annotations on my yellow legal pad.
I hide it behind my back. “Just keeping my mind active on a slow morning.” He’d never been too keen on my thoughts for the business.
He thought they were too modern and unnecessary, and right now, he doesn’t need the stress.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I carefully weigh my words.
“Working with Korren has me thinking about improvements we could make.”
Dad frowns. “Is there a problem?”
I hold up a hand. “No, Dad. It was just adjustments that could bring in steady money regularly.” I don’t need to remind him we’re not doing as well as we used to.
He grunts, and his grave expression kills my joy. This town hates change. It’s part of why I wanted to leave so badly. Without growth, you die. “We’ve done things the same way for years.”
“I know, Dad,” I say.
“Seeing your work with Korren and the stroke opened my eyes to possibilities.”
I gape at him. Who is this man?
“What were you thinking?” He asks gruffly.
Is he actually willing to listen? I’d spend weeks helping him alongside Mom, and it shifted our dynamics. Perhaps that’s why he feels more approachable?
“I’ve had a lot of townspeople mention the desire for a place to do more things, like learning hobbies, and I thought we could highlight local talent with a few classes in the evenings or on the weekends. They could rent out space.” I bring the pad from behind my back and hold it up for him to see.
Dad’s thick salt-and-pepper brows lift. “You don’t say?”
“There’s high demand for access to slow-living crafts and creative outlets.”
“Hmm.” He tucks his thumbs into his belt loops. “And you think we could provide that?”
“I think so. We have the space and connections with buyers to make material purchases at a wholesale discount, which could entice people who can’t afford to do it out of pocket.”
He’s not shooting it down like he used to, so that’s a plus.
“I’m curious about how you’d handle that.”
His answer does funny things to my heart. “That’s why I was taking measurements and making notes.”
He rubs a hand over his chin. “Seems like a lot of thought went into this. Would you be open to possibly working up a proposal?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“If you were to start this, you’d have to see it through. I know I’m past the age where I could manage any of this on my own. If I’m lucky, I’ll come back here in a semi-retired capacity, which makes me nervous.”
“I don’t understand. Are you upset with how I’ve handled things here?” I deflate like a pricked balloon.
“You misunderstand me. You’ve done wonderful here.”
He’s the sunlight feeding a wilted flower. I bloom under his praise.
“But I’d have to be blind not to see how you’re chomping at the bit to escape this place. I need to know you’re going to stay here and it won’t destroy your soul.”
I inhale, desperate to regain some of the air he snatches from my lungs.
“Our legacy has never been enough for you.” He shakes his head. His brown eyes are dull with sadness, and my heart aches.
“That’s not true.”
“I came to grips with it a long time ago. I don’t need you to glaze over the facts.”
I ball my fists, gripping the notebook tightly in one hand. “Why is it always all or nothing with you?” The words burst free.
His face wrinkles with confusion. “What?”
“Wanting to forge my path and chase my dream doesn’t mean I reject the family heritage, Dad. You never wanted me to put a new spin on anything, or to take calculated risks. I felt like an artist starved for inspiration.”
“How could we have worked that out when you cut us off completely?” He taps his cane down on the wooden floor.
“I came to visit all the time.”
He gives a horse laugh. “Which means what for a business owner? This is a twenty-four-seven job. I maintained this for you. The Joiners have done whatever it took to keep this place running. It’s supported every generation as far back as I can remember.”
“Does that mean it’s the only way we can survive until the end of time? By imitating the people who came before us? Look at this town, Dad. It’s on the verge of dying.”
He steps back. I went too far.
“I’m sorry. That was too much.”
“No. It’s how you feel, isn’t it?” he croaks.
“I think there’s a way to honor the past while moving toward the future.”
“How?” He looks down at the floor.
“I don’t have all the answers yet. But I think it’s worth asking questions and considering new venues.” It feels good to say my piece for once.
“Does that future leave the store closed, and this chapter ended for our family?”
I want to scream. I don’t know. Pressure pushes down on the top of my head, burrowing me into the ground. Trapped, I swallow down my protests. I can’t be the one to break the strong chain we’ve maintained as a founding family.
I lower my head. “No.”
He clears his throat. “Good.” The air is far too charged with volatile emotions, ready to ignite with the slightest agitation. “I’ll join your mother.”
“Okay,” I whisper, suddenly exhausted. Drained, I watch him walk off, steps heavier than they need to be. The happiness I felt flickers out like a bulb with a burned-out filament. I walk to the register and toss the notepad into a drawer.