9. Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine
Lizzie
Ireread Will’s text and sit up in bed. I’m cozy and drifting into that ‘I’ll just scroll on social media, respond to emails and texts for a bit until I get sleepy’ mode, but now I’m wide awake.
I’m not as cozy anymore and I’m a little taken aback. I stare down at my screen and reread his message one more time.
Will: Maybe I can’t be your fake boyfriend, but do you want to be my business partner, Boss Lady?
Me: What?
Will: I have a situation going on…long story short, I know I can’t get a building for my bakery here in Selah like I wanted, but I don’t need to.
I want to be a baker and love my job, but I need to level up…
if we become business partners, I can help with some of the load…
the bills, the staff, and still be the baker… it’d be a win-win situation.
My mind drifts to the stack of bills and paperwork waiting for me back in my office at the cafe. I think about the staff. It’s only myself, Will and Wolfsheim working at the cafe.
If anybody is sick or can’t be there, then I step in. I can’t ever be sick or have much time off.
I’m not just the owner of the cafe.
I am the owner, manager, barista, cashier, and part of the cleanup crew. I’m not complaining; I love my job. But I have to admit that the workload is taking its toll.
Hiring Will really helped, and he does a lot at the cafe. But even if he’s a great asset, I can’t help but think that he’s only offering to be my business partner because he wants something for himself.
Not that I blame him, but still.
It’s something that I pushed to the back of my mind because, when all of that stuff went down in the fall, I really wanted to believe that it wasn’t Will’s fault.
Honestly, it all goes back to our corrupt mayor, who was having an affair, and all the crazy things and people that got tangled up in that mess.
Our town’s government and finances got tangled up in it too.
Thank God that the cafe has been covered by a grant for the longest time, along with some of my own funds. But with everything going on as our town government tries to readjust, there’s been a pause on certain things.
I didn’t really want to talk to anybody about this, and truth be told, I haven’t. I haven’t even told my best friends. But there is a grant denial letter sitting on my desk in my office that haunts me.
But what am I supposed to do? I can’t just accept Will’s help if it means taking on much more than he can probably bear. He’s great at what he does, but he’s one of three workers at the cafe, and I can’t let him become part owner.
I mean, he’d just be taking on more responsibility and might end up feeling the way I do. Most of the time, I enjoy the challenge, but sometimes I’m just tired and overwhelmed. I don’t want to do that to anybody else.
Still, it would be great to share the load with someone. And if anybody could handle it, wouldn’t it be Will? He came here because he wanted to open his own business, so that tells me he was ready, or at least thought he was ready, to take on that kind of responsibility.
I didn’t have to give him a job or help him out after his plan to open a bakery fell through and he lost the property. I know that wasn’t his fault, but I still feel like a fool for being so nice. I needed the help, so I took a chance on him and added him to my team.
And now he is trying to become more than just a team player. How prideful of him to assume that he can just take over part of my business.
I don’t really know how I feel about that, or how I’m supposed to feel about it. I close my eyes and massage my temples, saying a short prayer because that’s the only thing I can think to do right now.
“Lord, this is a lot for me. I know that Will is a good guy, or at least I think he is. But You know him more than I do. And You know how much I’ve been handling on my own with the cafe.
Thank You for blessing me with my own business.
I couldn’t have come this far without You.
But honestly, I’m starting to feel like the cafe may be in danger if I don’t do something quickly.
I know business is going well, but without that grant and without another business partner, I don’t know how long I can keep doing this on my own.
I need Your help, Lord. Please help me and guide me. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
After I finish praying and massaging my temples to relieve some of the tension, I open my eyes and allow my thoughts to filter back in.
They’re the thoughts that remind you that no matter how much you pray or how much faith you have, maybe things won’t change.
I know those thoughts aren’t from God, and I know I don’t want to dwell on them.
But then, of course, because I just have to kick myself while I’m down, I think about Will’s message and get upset.
How dare he?
I built this business by myself. I went to college and got a business degree. I saved up for four years and worked three jobs while going to school full-time so I could open my cafe.
I still needed help, though, and I received a small business grant that has helped keep the place open. It’s one I can reapply for every year, except this year, I won’t be able to count on it.
I groan.
Of course, Will is here to save the day. Of course, he wants to be my business partner. I should have known he’d pull something like this.
He came to town because he was going to start his own bakery. But his dream fell apart along with the town government. He can’t be happy working for me, not for long. It was just a matter of time before he resorted to this, trying to sink his teeth into my business and push me out of the way.
I should feel sad that he’s betraying me like this, but I’m not. I’m not sad or surprised. I should have seen this coming.
I start typing my reply as hot tears spill down my face before I have a chance to stop them.
Me: No.
Then I put my phone on sleep mode, lay it face down on my nightstand, and stare into in my darkened room.
No TV on, just my night-light illuminating the room in a soft pinkish glow.
I like to sleep without sound, without distraction, and the light helps me not feel like I’m trapped in a darkened hole.
But tonight, even the night-light doesn’t help. I still feel like I’m trapped in a hole where I’m not who I think I am. I’m not confident, loud, and courageous.
I’m just Lizzie, the second eldest sister, the strong friend, the defiant daughter, the entrepreneur running her dream business... and the woman buried deep down beneath it all, crying all alone in the dark.
A knock on my door startles me into quickly wiping my eyes, sniffling, and saying, “Yes?”
“Hey, Liz. It’s me,” Lydia says, her voice sounding muffled from the other side of the door. “Can I come in?”
“Yes,” I say again, not having the energy to say anything else.
But I focus what little energy I have on fixing my face, adjusting my features so I don’t look upset or sad. Here I am, pretending again. I have gotten used to pretending with my family.
I hide away when I feel anything I think is too much for them to handle. I want to be the one who is always okay. It seems that is better for them.
Mama and Papa are usually too occupied to notice. Well, Mama notices me but only what I can offer her if I marry and have grandkids she can spoil. Papa is aloof, but kind.
Growing up with so many sisters, I felt like there was no room for me to feel anything too deeply. So, I hide away in plain sight. Sometimes I think we are all pretending together, but maybe I am the only one pretending so I can show up for everyone else but myself.
I try to look neutral when the door opens and Lydia walks in. It must work because she strides in and plops down on the edge of my bed, wearing striped pajamas like mine, except mine are pink and hers are yellow.
She looks anxious. Her long curls are pulled away from her face and wrapped pineapple-style in a head scarf. I wait for her to speak, but she picks at her chipped nail polish instead.
A moment of silence passes. I move to sit next to her, my legs dangling over the edge of my bed as my feet slip into my pink fluffy slippers.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, and just like that, I push my feelings down inside me and replace my lamenting with laser focus. “What happened, Lydia? Talk to me.”
“So, remember how I thought I knew that hot police officer?”
I stare at her, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, George Wickham. He grew up here, so you may have seen him around at some point.”
“Oh, I definitely have seen him,” she says, nodding slowly. “But not around town when I was a kid, or at least I don’t remember seeing him then. I’ve seen him more as a police officer around town over the last couple of years. And he spends a lot of time at the university.”
“Do you guys have a lot of disturbance calls or something? Is there a safety issue? Oh my goodness, Lydia. Tell me what’s going on. Are you okay? Is there something happening at school?”
“The calls he gets to come to our school aren’t for disturbances.
When he’s there, he’s not usually in uniform.
He’s always on campus with a new girl every couple of months, spending the night in the dorms, going to campus parties, hitting on girls my age.
He even hit on me once when I saw him walking around campus in a hoodie.
I thought he was a student at first. But then my friends warned me about him.
They are the ones who told me about him hanging around the dorms at odd times.
He’s kind of a creep. You should stay away from him.
I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I just remembered why he looked so familiar, and I couldn’t go to bed when I thought about it.
I had to tell you. Please don’t be mad at me. ”
I think I might be moving in slow motion. Or at least my brain feels like it is.