“Work stuff,” Margot repeated, brushing off her pants as if to tell me the conversation was over.
Before I could press further, a brisk knock sounded from the doorway.
“Georgette?”
I turned, heart sinking a fraction when I saw Janice poking her head in. Rhett didn’t have a reason to be here anymore. I had to keep reminding myself of that.
“Janice, come in!” I set the broom aside. “Don’t mind the mess. We’re in the moving phase.”
Her hair tucked under a wide-brimmed sunhat, she carried a tote bag bulging with papers. She stepped carefully over a bag of soil, eyes warm as they swept across the nearly empty shop. “Looks like progress to me.”
Margot gave her a two-fingered wave and promptly retreated to the backroom, muttering something about answering a phone call.
Janice’s voice softened once Margot was out of earshot. “I wanted to talk, if you have a minute.”
“Of course.” My pulse quickened. Janice rarely looked serious, but today there was a tightness around her mouth that made me nervous. I wasn’t sure what I’d do if she was sick again.
Janice hugged her tote under her arm. “Georgie, you know I love you like my own granddaughter.”
I nodded, dreading where this was headed.
“But the grant I mentioned…” Janice hesitated, dragging a folder from her tote. “It isn’tguaranteed. I may have gotten ahead of myself when I said the funds were lined up.”
My pulse quickened. “What do you mean, not guaranteed?”
“The town council applied for a small business revitalization grant through the state,” she explained gently. “We made it through the first round, but there’s still paperwork, approvals, waiting periods. It could be months before we know anything, and even then… well, there’s no promise.”
I stared at her, words curdling in my mind. “But you said—”
“I know.” She reached for my hand and squeezed it. “You never talk about what’s bothering you, but with the flower orders decreasing in size… well, it wasn’t hard to put it together.”
The knot in my stomach cinched tighter. “So if the grant doesn’t come through… how am I going to pay Rhett?”
“Don’t worry about that, he knew all along,” she replied as if it wasn’t world-shifting news. “With the festival contract, he didn’t really need the grant money.”
“So why did—” I shook my head. Knowing wouldn’t help.
The room seemed to shrink; even the dust hung heavier in the air. I glanced around at the barren walls and the stacked boxes in the alley. What had seemed like a fresh start an hour ago now loomed like a dark cloud.
Margot reappeared, wiping her hands on a dish towel she must’ve scavenged in the back. “What’s with the long faces?” she asked, but her eyes flicked to the folder in my hands before sliding back to mine.
“Nothing,” I said too quickly. “Just logistics.”
Janice gave me a sad smile. “I’ll leave you to it. Remember—one step at a time. This is the right direction, Georgie. I just know it.”
I walked her to the door, trying to smile back, but my chest ached.
When I turned, Margot was already scrolling through her phone again, face lit by the glow of the screen. For the first time all day, I wanted to snatch it out of her hands and demand to know what was so important.
Instead, I swallowed hard, tossed the folder on the counter and began sweeping dust into a pile to keep my hands busy.
Because suddenly, Georgie’s Pottery Shop seemed more like a gamble than a dream.
Margot plopped onto the nearest bucket-turned-stool and stretched out her legs, oblivious to the fact that she’d just left a trail of dust across the half-cleaned floor. She tugged her phone out of her pocket, glanced at it with that same tight-jawed look I’d caught twice already, then shoved it back.
“You okay?” I asked, trying not to sound like I was prying.
“Mmhm,” she said, too quickly, then grinned. “I was just thinking—what if we made this place apottery café? People could come in, drink lattes, and buy some pottery.”
