Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
T he little bell above the door jingled as Madeline, Whitney, and Clemmy stepped inside of Whisk Me Away, the cozy little bakery nestled in the heart of the Square of Jubilee. There was a warm scent of vanilla and freshly baked pastries that wrapped around them like a hug as they walked inside. The glass display case was packed with everything from towering layered cakes to delicate chocolate eclairs. Frannie herself was running around behind the counter with her apron dusted with flour. She had her signature messy bun threatening to unravel from the top of her head. She looked up and waved.
“Well, look if it isn’t my favorite trio,” Frannie said. “What can I get y’all today?”
Clemmy walked up first, looking at the desserts with the scrutiny of a jeweler inspecting diamonds. “Frannie, you have outdone yourself here. I think I’ll take a slice of that lemon lavender cake and a cup of your very strongest coffee.”
“Coming right up,” Frannie said, writing down the order. “What about you, Madeline?”
“I think I’ll have the chocolate espresso torte with the raspberry topping and just some green tea, please.”
“And you, hun? Don’t tell me you’re skipping out on dessert.”
Whitney laughed softly and shook her head. “Oh, I wouldn’t dare. I’ll have a slice of that strawberry shortcake and a caramel latte.”
The three women went and took a seat by the window. Clemmy leaned back in her chair, tapping her fingers on the table. “Now, this is what I call a proper ladies’ outing. Cake, coffee, and no men around to interrupt us.”
Madeline laughed. “Speak for yourself. I think Brady would be perfectly happy to interrupt us right now if it meant that he could get a bite of that torte.”
“True,” Clemmy said with a smile. “But let’s focus on the important things. Like Whitney here and her little cafe buddy.”
Whitney blinked, caught in mid-sip of her latte. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” Clemmy said playfully. “Word is, you’ve been spending a lot of time with that very healthy Tate fella, planning some fancy wellness night. Is that true?”
Madeline raised an eyebrow. “Well, well, Whitney, is there something you want to share with the class?”
Whitney groaned. “It’s not like that. You’ve probably seen the flyer, so it’s not like I was trying to keep a secret. Tate’s just been helping me with my business plan, that’s all. He’s just a good friend.”
Clemmy smirked, cutting into her piece of lavender cake. “Honey, I’ve been around this earth long enough to know when something’s more than just a friend. The way you’re blushing right now tells me everything I need to know.”
Whitney felt her cheeks burn and looked at Madeline for support, but Madeline just shrugged. “Clemmy’s not wrong. Every time you talk about him, your face lights up like a Christmas tree.”
“That’s just not true,” Whitney protested.
“Sure, it’s not,” Clemmy said. “Let me ask you this. When was the last time you spent this much time with a man and actually enjoyed it?”
Whitney hesitated. The truth was, she couldn’t remember. Between working at the clinic, helping her dad, and her own self-doubt, she hadn’t made very much room for relationships in her life. But with Tate, things felt very different.
“It doesn’t matter. My focus is on the wellness studio. That is all I have time for right now.”
“Whitney, nobody’s saying you have to dive into anything,” Madeline said, leaning forward. “But it’s okay to let yourself feel something, to open yourself up to the possibility of more. You deserve that.”
Clemmy nodded. “Madeline’s right, sweetie. You’ve got so much on your plate, but that doesn’t mean there’s no room for dessert if you catch my drift.”
Whitney rolled her eyes but couldn’t help but laugh. “You two are relentless, you know that?”
“Absolutely,” Clemmy said. “It’s why we’re here. The elder statesmen, or stateswomen, I guess, of the city. Here to help you make good life choices and offer you our wisdom.”
“Everything taste good, ladies?” Frannie asked as she walked to the table.
“Perfect,” Madeline said. “Frannie, you’re a genius.”
“As usual,” Clemmy added, letting out an exaggerated sigh of delight.
As Frannie walked back behind the counter, Clemmy looked at Whitney. “You know, I’m gonna tell you something. I don’t often talk about my personal life. And that’s probably because there really isn’t much of one. It’s been many years since I even went on a date. I gave up on the idea of love a long time ago and dove headfirst into running the bookstore. But let me tell you something. The older I get, the lonelier I get. I haven’t seen my son in a long time. You know, he’s in the military, and he has his own family to focus on. And it’s very lonely for somebody who goes home to an empty house every night. You don’t want to be that person, Whitney. You don’t want to do everything your father expects of you. You need to do the things that make you happy, that fill you up. And if somebody comes along that deserves your love, and you have the same feelings for them, you don’t need to let fear stop you.”
Madeline reached over and put her hand on Clemmy’s. “Clemmy, that was beautiful. And I didn’t know you were so lonely. What can we do to help?”
Clemmy waved her hand away. “Oh, honey, I’m used to it. It’s been this way for so long. I don’t know any other way anymore.”
“Well, that makes me sad,” Madeline said. “I want you to have what I have with Brady. I never expected a second chance at love. But look at us now.”
“What you and Brady have is very special, but it’s also like a unicorn. I sure don’t expect to walk outside and find one of those walking through the town square now, do I?”
“It makes me sad, too,” Whitney said, reaching over for Clemmy’s hand.
“Ladies, this is not about me,” Clemmy said. “Good Lord, I wish I’d never said anything,” she said, taking a sip of her drink. “Let’s not talk anymore about it,” she said, brushing it away.
“Well, fine, we’ll stop talking,” Madeline said. “But Whitney, I want you to know you have two of the biggest cheerleaders in Jubilee sitting right here. So whatever happens, with Wellness Night or anything else, we’ve got your back.”
* * *
T he little bell above the door jingled as Whitney walked into the diner. The lunch rush had just ended, and the room had settled into a deceptive calm. Her father leaned against the counter, his arms crossed and his jaw set tighter than a drum.
Whitney adjusted the strap of her bag, cautious as she approached. She placed it on a hook near the counter and gave him a small, hesitant smile.
“Hey, Daddy,” she said softly.
“Don’t you ‘Hey, Daddy’ me,” Coop snapped, his voice sharper than she’d heard it in a while. “We need to talk.”
Whitney froze, her eyes narrowing slightly. “What’s up?”
“You want to tell me about this wellness night of yours?” Coop pushed off the counter, stepping closer. His face was flushed, and she figured it wasn’t just from the heat of the kitchen.
“How did you find out about it?”
“Oh, I’ve got ears, Whitney,” he said. “I heard it from customers. They’re all buzzing about how my daughter is putting on some big event over at that man’s café.”
Whitney sighed, her shoulders slumping. “I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret. There have been flyers at Perky’s and at the library. If you didn’t know, it’s because you never leave this place long enough to know about anything else happening around town.”
“Don’t you put this on me!” Coop shot back, his voice rising. “You knew exactly how I’d feel about it, and you didn’t have the guts to just come tell me yourself.”
Her temper flared. “Why would I, Dad? So you can explode like this? So you could accuse me of siding with the enemy again? I’m tired of having this same fight over and over. You’re being ridiculous!”
“I don’t even know who you are anymore!” he shouted, throwing his arms up in frustration.
“Well, maybe if you stopped siding with him, we wouldn’t have to fight,” Coop said, slamming his hand on the counter. “Do you have any idea how this looks? That my own daughter is teaming up with a guy who’s trying to run me out of business?”
Whitney’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. “Tate is not trying to run you out of business, Dad! He’s trying to make a living, just like you are. You’re the one who’s turned this into some kind of war. You’re the only person fighting!”
Coop’s face darkened. “Don’t you tell me what this is, Whitney. You’re too busy playing business partners with him to see what’s really going on.”
“And what is that, Daddy?” she shot back, stepping closer. “That maybe, just maybe, the world doesn’t revolve around Coop’s Home Cookin’? That there’s room for something new in this town without it being a personal attack on you? That’s pretty self-centered!”
He recoiled as though she’d slapped him. “You think I don’t know what this town needs? I’ve been feeding these people since before you were born. I know what they want, and it sure as heck ain’t yoga classes and kale chips.”
“And this is exactly why I didn’t tell you about Wellness Night!” Whitney snapped. “You’re so stubborn, you can’t even hear me out. You just shut me down before I get the chance to explain anything.”
“Explain what?” he demanded, his voice booming. “How you’re working with him behind my back? How you’re putting his business ahead of ours?”
Coop’s voice had gotten so loud that Wanda peeked her head out of the kitchen, concern etched across her face.
Whitney’s eyes stung with angry tears, but she refused to let them fall. “You want to talk about betrayal, Daddy? Fine. Then let’s talk about all those fake reviews you’ve been having people leave for his café. You think I don’t know about that?”
Coop froze, his mouth opening and closing like he was searching for words.
“You’re not the man I grew up admiring,” she said, her voice breaking. “The man who taught me to work hard and be honest. What happened to you, Daddy? When did you let your pride turn you into someone I don’t even recognize anymore?”
“That’s enough,” he said, holding up his hand to stop her. “You don’t get to stand there and judge me—not when you’re the one tearing this family apart.”
Whitney stepped back, shocked. “Tearing this family apart? You’re the one doing that! You’re so blinded by your hatred for Tate that you can’t even see what it’s doing to me and you!”
“I’m trying to protect what’s mine,” Coop bellowed. “This diner is all I have left, Whitney. You think I want to wake up one day and see it boarded up because some fancy café stole all my customers?”
“Nobody’s trying to steal your customers!” she shouted back. “If you spent half as much energy trying to do better things for your own business as you do hating a man who’s done nothing to you, maybe you wouldn’t be so worried!”
His face hardened. “I see how it is. You think I’m the problem. You think I’m just some old man with nothing left to give, standing in your way.”
“You know that’s not what I mean!” she said, her voice trembling. “I love you. I just… I need you to see that this isn’t about taking sides. This is about your daughter chasing her dreams—finally. But you’re too caught up in your own pride to even support me.”
Coop shook his head, looking away. “You’ve made your choice, Whitney. Don’t expect me to stand here and cheer you on when it means tearing down everything I’ve built all these years.”
There was a finality in his tone that scared her.
Swallowing hard, Whitney grabbed her bag from the hook. “I can’t do this with you right now,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “I’ve spent my whole life trying to make you proud, but right now, it’s time I start trying to make myself proud.”
She turned and walked out the door, her chest tight with emotion. As she stepped onto the street, she wondered when—or if—she would even talk to her father again.
* * *
W hitney walked into her small apartment, the faint creak of the hinges breaking the silence of the evening. She loved having an apartment on the square. She was on the second floor of a building just above one of the local shops that sold souvenirs to Jubilee visitors. She flipped on the light switch, flooding the room with warm, golden light. She dropped her bag in the entryway, sighed, and took off her coat before hanging it on a hook by the door.
The tension in her shoulders felt like it was never going to let loose. Maybe she should take her own advice and do some yoga stretches before bed.
She walked into the kitchen and filled a kettle with water, placing it on the stove. She was going to make some nice chamomile tea, put on her comfiest pajamas, and veg out in front of the TV for the rest of the evening. At least, that was her plan. But the argument with her father kept replaying in her mind like a broken record, every word cutting deeper and deeper.
The kettle finally whistled, and she poured the hot water over a teabag in her favorite ceramic mug. It had a picture of a cute little raccoon on it, which was her favorite animal. She carried it to the living room and sank into the corner of the overly worn, overstuffed couch. The tea’s steam crawled in the air, but she didn’t take a sip right away. Instead, she stared at the coffee table in front of her, its surface cluttered with notes and books for Wellness Night.
“Wellness,” she said to herself with a hollow laugh. “I can’t even handle my own life right now. How in the world am I supposed to teach other people how to have wellness?”
That thought hung in the air, heavy and unyielding. She taught other people about mindfulness, balance, and self-care, and yet here she was with a pounding heart and a mind racing with guilt. Her father’s words had stung more than anything she’d ever heard in her life, but what hurt her the most was the distance between them.
She reached for her favorite journal. It was leather-bound and had some scratches on it. The pages inside were filled with her scribbled thoughts, hopes, and fears. She opened it and found a blank page, grabbed her favorite pen, and started to let the words flow.
I miss Mom.
The words were simple, but they evoked so much emotion. Her hand stilled for a moment as emotion bubbled up inside her. Writing them down made them feel more real. She blinked back tears and started writing again.
She would have known what to say to him. She always did. Whenever Daddy and I fought, she was the one who brought us back together. She understood him in a way that I don’t think anyone else ever will. I try, but it’s like we’re speaking two totally different languages. He’s so angry now. I don’t know how to reach him. I don’t know who he is anymore.
She paused, tapping the pen against her lip. Her apartment was so quiet, almost oppressively so. Sometimes, she thought she should get a puppy or maybe even a cat. A puppy would be hard because she lived on the second floor, and she’d have to take it out over and over. Plus, she was rarely home these days. Maybe a cat was better, except she did have an allergy to them, and she would hate to spend most of her time sneezing.
The quiet was hard. She longed for those days when her mother’s laughter filled the rooms when the three of them were a family, a team, each other’s biggest supporters.
She continued to write.
I miss Daddy, too.
The words surprised her, but they were true. She missed the version of her father who laughed with her, who took her fishing on a lazy Sunday afternoon at one of the many lakes around Jubilee, with the Blue Ridge Mountains towering in the background. It was so quiet and peaceful in those places. Just the two of them, often not talking for long stretches of time, and the occasional calling of a crow or screeching of a hawk flying overhead.
She missed the times he taught her how to make the perfect biscuit in the diner’s kitchen. He said the secret was using a glass to shape them. He had always been her rock, her protector. Now, he felt like a stranger or someone she had to defend herself against.
She began writing again.
The argument we had today was bad. I hate fighting with him more than anything. It feels like I’m losing him a little more every time. I wish he could see that this isn’t about taking sides. I’m not against him. I’m not trying to hurt him. I just want to follow my dream. But how can I do that when the one person whose opinion matters the most doesn’t believe in me?
Her hand trembled as she wrote the last sentence. She set her pen down, letting out a shaky breath, and pressed her hands against her eyes, willing herself not to cry.
“This isn’t helping,” she said to herself. “You teach people how to handle stress, Whitney. Practice what you preach. Focusing on the negative isn’t going to help anything.”
She picked up her tea and took a slow sip, letting the warmth spread through her body. Then she closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, holding it for a moment before releasing it. She repeated that a few more times, focusing on the sound of her breath. People didn’t realize just how much breathing correctly and taking time to breathe at all could improve their lives.
She sat there for a few moments, feeling the couch beneath her and the weight of the warm mug in her hands. When she finally felt a little bit calmer, she opened her eyes and went back to her journal.
A thought came to her, so she reached for her pen again.
This isn’t just about Daddy. It’s about me.
She stared at those words for a moment. Were they true? What did that mean exactly? Sometimes, thoughts came out when she wrote them, but they didn’t come out when she only thought about them, so she began writing again.
I have always cared so much about what he thinks. I’ve always wanted to make him proud. But what about making myself proud? What about my own dreams? Isn’t that just as important as what he thinks? Maybe more? I’ve spent so much time trying to meet his expectations. It’s exhausting. I love him, but I can’t keep living my life for him. I have to live it for me. And if someone truly loves you, they love all of you, even the parts they don’t agree with or understand.
Her shoulders relaxed as she wrote the words. She continued.
My wellness studio isn’t just a business idea. It’s what I’m passionate about. It’s what I believe in. Helping people feel better and live better—that’s what I do. If Daddy can’t see that right now, then I’ll just have to show him. I’ll prove to him that this isn’t a waste of time, that it’s worth it. And I’ll prove it to myself, too.
She set the pen down again and leaned back, closing her eyes. She couldn’t control her father’s feelings or his actions, but she could control her own.
After finishing her tea, she closed the journal and set it aside. The world suddenly didn’t feel quite so heavy. She wasn’t sure how she and her father were going to find their way back to each other, but she knew that they would somehow.
She stood and walked to the window, looking out at the darkened street of Jubilee. The world outside was still and calm, and she wanted to find that inside of herself.
“I’ll figure this out,” she said softly. “One way or another, I’ll figure it out.”
Living alone meant that she talked to herself quite a bit. She turned off the light and headed to her bedroom, her mind spinning with ideas for her business’s next steps.
Because for now, she was going to focus on herself.
And for tonight, she would allow herself to get some rest.