Chapter 9
Penny
Is it possible to be so embarrassed that your cheeks remain permanently flushed?
That’s the question I asked Google this morning.
For the record, Google says no, embarrassment cannot cause permanent damage.
The internet and I will have to disagree on this one.
Or maybe it’s just that my life is a continual cycle of embarrassment.
I stare at the photo in the town chat of Monty and me, right as his lips brushed against mine. Who even took it? And why does it look so hot? Why does it look like Monty wants to kiss me just as badly as I wanted to be kissed?
I got zero sleep last night. All I could do was replay the entire interaction at the bar over and over in my head. And his declaration in the store. Both were insane.
He didn’t press me on it. He dropped me off at home, and in all likelihood he’ll probably wake up today and regret it completely. Especially when he finds out that the town is taking bets on our almost kiss.
Still, I can’t get over the fact that the man I had a crush on for nearly half my life is asking me to date him. For show, of course.
I need to get out of my own head. And I need fresh air. Which is why I’m heading to the farm.
Running the bookstore means I get to make my own hours. It makes little sense to be open weekday mornings—barely anyone comes in—but after school and in the evenings, there’s a chance for foot traffic.
Though there’s never a lot of foot traffic unless it’s my mother popping in to say hello, Tally bringing me treats, or the Monday-night book club.
Still, I keep my hours from eleven to seven most days and often hang out in the store during the evening to catch up on my own reading with a cup of tea before bed.
Which means that mornings are all mine and so, when I’m not spending them stressing how to make my business turn a profit, I am at the farm.
Before heading inside the big house, I stare at the Instagram post I spent over an hour preparing this morning. I know social media publicity could turn the fortunes of the store around; I just haven’t quite figured out how.
As I stare at the measly ten likes on my post, I know this isn’t it.
Resigned, I pocket my phone and head inside. I won’t be able to solve this problem now. That’s a future Penny problem.
“But I don’t want to wear shoes!” I hear Quinn scream at the top of his lungs as I open the door to our family home.
“Then you don’t get to help Uncle Jesse on the farm,” Billie says calmly. She’s standing in the front hall but she’s facing the other way so she’s yet to spot me.
“You are the worst mom ever!” the seven-year-old screams before running past me, storming up the steps, and slamming a door.
Billie winces and squeezes her fists. When she turns, she pulls up short.
“Knock knock,” I say meekly, trying to break the tension.
“How much of that did you hear?” she asks, deflated.
“Not much.”
“One more week until school starts,” she whispers. “Just one more week.”
I squeeze her shoulder. “You’ve got this.”
“The worst part is that I really want to call Jesse and ask him to come and help me handle this.” She sighs. “But I can’t call my brother every time my son acts up.”
“You know Walker doesn’t mind,” I offer, because he doesn’t. Plus, Quinn is a good kid. He’s just growing up and adjusting to a new life here at the farm; no one is at their best a hundred percent of the time. Though it must be tough for Billie having to shoulder that mostly alone.
“Pancakes are ready!” I hear my mother call from the kitchen.
“Shit, your mom heard all of that.” Panic laces Billie’s words. “What if she wants us to leave? I told Jesse it would be too much for her, living with a little boy.”
“My mother loves that little boy and you more than you know,” I reassure her. “And you’ve made such a difference to her life being here. I know how lonely she’s been without my dad.”
“Thanks for saying that. Do you mind just—” Billie glances toward the kitchen and I can see how much she doesn’t feel like peopling right now.
“I got my mom,” I promise her. “Go take a walk in the wildflowers; Tally swears it has healing abilities.”
“Thanks, Penny.” She reaches out to wrap me in a quick hug. “You’re amazing.”
I wouldn’t go that far, though I give her a little squeeze before she heads toward the front door. I know she will feel better after a little break outside.
Spinning on my heel, I call out to let my mom know I’m here. “Hey, Mom, I ran into Billie outside, she’s going to get some fresh air.”
She peeks her head out from behind the door. “She need a break?”
I reply with a nod, and she glances up the stairs. “I wish I could help more but I don’t want to step on her toes.”
Joining her in the kitchen, I wrap an arm around my mom and pull her tight. “You’re giving her a place to land, that’s doing something.”
It’s what our parents always gave Tally and me. While Tally spent the past decade mostly away from Hope Harbor, she always knew she had a place to come back to.
For the majority of my twenties, I lived at the farm, since working at the local library didn’t pay nearly as much as I needed to live alone.
Moving to Boston with Richard was out of the question—my commute to work would have been absurd, considering I could walk from here to the library downtown.
And I always preferred small-town life anyway.
Richard and I had been looking at houses before the breakup. I thought he was committed to moving here. I thought he was committed to me.
“How are things at the store?” my mother asks, motioning for me to settle at the counter.
Instead, I head toward her and the full stack of pancakes, bacon, and every topping you could ever want that towers next to her.
I prefer mine with just a little butter and cinnamon sugar. Both ingredients are already set out.
My mom shoos me as I reach to grab the platters of food. “Leave it there. People can serve themselves.”
She hands me a plate and I smile when I notice she’s already prepared my breakfast exactly how I like it. My mother is happiest when she’s serving a full house. Probably why I’ve got such a soft stomach—the perpetual people pleaser in me always takes seconds.
“Speaking of everyone,” I say. “Where are the others?”
“Tally went for a run,” she explains. “And Walker disappeared outside grumbling about having to feed the cow and build an animal pen.”
I snort. “I cannot believe she bought a cow.”
My mother glances over at me, a knowing smile on her face. “Oh, you can’t?”
I let out a laugh. “True.”
“So the store?” she asks again, settling in beside me at the kitchen counter.
I hate disappointing my mom but honestly, right now, the store is a bit of a disappointment.
Before my dad died, he took out a loan on our family farm and gave me money for the lease and all the upgrades we had to do to get it to look like it does now.
We almost lost our farm this past spring because of the financial strain that loan caused.
This bookstore was my dream—I was so proud when we opened the doors two years ago—and it was the last thing I ever did with my dad.
I need to figure out a way to turn the business around.
“Pretty good,” I lie, not wanting to cause concern.
“Your father would be so proud. I know I am.” She turns to take a bite of her pancake and I relax for a moment. Until she adds, “Oh, and it was so nice to see Jake Montgomery again. Your father always loved that boy.”
“Unlike Richard,” I mutter.
My mother’s eyebrows shoot up. “Well—”
I hold up a hand. “He was right not to. Clearly.”
“So are you and Jake Montgomery…dating?”
I huff, uncertain of what to say because I’m sure Monty has changed his mind about his suggestion by now. “I’m not really sure if I’m ready for that.”
My mother takes another bite of pancake and I can see she’s trying to phrase whatever she wants to say as nicely as she can.
“Just say what you’re thinking, Mom.”
She smiles, sets down her fork, and focuses my way. “I know the Liberty Ladies can be a lot. But they’re not all wrong. Maybe it is time you start dating again? It’s been almost a year.”
“Not you too,” I mumble.
“You need to do what makes you happy,” she says softly. “But you’ve always loved love. When you moved back home after college you were dating all the time.”
She’s not wrong. It was stupid, really. In high school, I had Monty, so I never really noticed that I wasn’t dating.
Then I got to college, and everyone was hyperfocused on finding their person while I was more interested in learning.
And reading. But when I graduated and moved back home, I was lonely.
Monty was gone. My sister was off traveling the world, and I was surrounded by two people who were so head over heels for each other—my parents—that it made it impossible not to notice what I was missing.
Someone to share my life with. Someone to share a meal, or watch a movie, or read a book beside.
I decided to get out there and signed up for all those stupid apps. I became a serial dater. I went on dozens of first dates but was rarely asked out for a second.
For the first time, my belief in the power of love was rocked. I started to worry there was something wrong with me. I tend to ramble, and I don’t love going out—I’d rather spend the night by the fire reading. Like those bonfire nights with Monty.
Honestly, there’s a serious underappreciation for dating in silence.
I started to wonder if maybe I was just boring. If maybe my books were all I’d ever have.
When I met Richard it wasn’t even for a date.
I’d decided to take a break from the dating scene and focus on my dream of opening my own bookstore.
I’d been working at the library and living at home for three years at that point, saving every penny I had, when I saw an ad for a free seminar in Boston on how to start your own business.
I got dressed up, took the train into the city, and then I met Richard.
He was teaching the seminar. He worked for a financial company that provided loans to small businesses.
His job was to sell people on investing in themselves.
I understand that now, but at the time his interest in me and my dreams was so intoxicating I fell hook, line, and sinker.
He was older, thirty-two, with this grown-up job and a gorgeous apartment he lived in alone in Boston.
We spent most of our weekends there and it was exciting.
He was the first man to show a real interest in me romantically.
I thought I was happy. I see now that he really did think my love for the bookstore was a hobby, something I’d get over when I became the woman on his arm at events, the woman raising his kids.
He didn’t expect that I’d want to follow through on all the plans we’d made together: Him moving here.
Me opening up a store. Us building a life in Hope Harbor.
The moment he got the job offer in California he just assumed I’d follow, and when I didn’t, he ended things. It destroyed my confidence.
Would any man be interested in the real me? Would I be smart enough not to change myself to fit what some man wants me to be?
I don’t trust myself not to jump into a relationship with the first guy who shows interest. I need to figure out what I’m looking for.
But, more than that, I need to prioritize the success of my store.
Fake dating Monty might give me the chance to do both: figure out what I want in a relationship, and get the Liberty Ladies off my back long enough to focus on revamping sales at the store.
“Can I tell you a secret?” I say, not even sure I’m ready to say the words.
My mom nods excitedly.
I nibble on my lip—here goes nothing. “After book club last night, Monty and I had drinks and he asked me out on a date.”
My mother’s golden eyes light up. “He did? What did you say?”
I sigh and voice my real concerns. Because even if the relationship he’s proposing is fake, I’m afraid my heart won’t know that. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I’m ready to date. And also he used to be my best friend. What if this ruins that? Or what if I like him and then he leaves?”
My mom leans forward and squeezes my hand.
“But what if it works out? What if Jake Montgomery is actually the type of man you’ve been looking for all along?
” She smiles. “Oh, Penny, nothing in life is guaranteed and I know that friendship meant a lot to you, but I’ll tell you, your father was my best friend and the best decision I ever made was taking a chance on him.
If you don’t take a chance, you’ll never know. ”
A shiver rolls through me and I feel a spark of hope that maybe she’s right. Then I remind myself that it’s all fake and offer my mom a shrug. “Maybe. Thanks for listening, Mom.”
She smiles. “I will always be here to listen, my sweet Penny.”
“I think I’ll run upstairs and see if Quinn wants some pancakes.”
“That’s a sweet idea,” she replies. “Oh, don’t let me forget, Mrs. Montgomery asked me to send you over with some sunflowers.”
Smiling, I nod. I’ll take any excuse to spend time with Ana. Plus, she and I are due a little chat about how her grandson walked in on me changing in his bedroom yesterday. I just hope my favorite Brazilian grandmother isn’t on the let’s set up Penny train like everyone else.