Beck was finally getting it. He pushed up from the bar, stood straight, and ran his hand through that gorgeous head of hair.
“It’s yours if you want it, Beck. It’ll be the best price we can offer without taking too much of a hit since we’re using those funds, or part of them, for the condo.”
“You want… me to have the bar?”
“Of course. Who else? Take some time to think about it, and if it doesn’t line up with your goals… well, I’d be sorry to see it go to someone outside the family. But our time has come. No use working our whole lives if we can’t enjoy the fruits of our labor.”
My father was so corny. But also, such an awesome man. It suddenly occurred to me the one thing that had always bothered me about Mathieu… how different he was from my father. They were polar opposites, which was fine, I supposed, but I always thought I’d end up with someone like him. My mother never questioned his devotion to her.
It also just occurred to me that he considered Beck part of the family. That was kinda cute.
“That’s why Paul Baker was in here sniffing around?”
My dad frowned. “Yeah, he must have gotten wind I’d had the place appraised.”
“You don’t want it?” Beck asked me.
He already knew the answer. “I never minded working here, but owning a pub doesn’t exactly line up with my skill set. No offense to either of you, but I didn’t go to CIA and study at the best pastry school in France to make chicken fingers and fries.”
My dad smiled at me. “I didn’t pay for you to attend CIA and help fund your trip to France for you to make chicken fingers and fries either. But you could do anything you want with this place.”
We’d had this discussion many times. “I know, but it still takes a lot to run a bar. You and Mom had the benefit of doing it together. I don’t think this”—I waved my hands around, admiring the renovated oak and attention to detail my parents had put into O’Malley’s—“says mille-feuille.”
“Mille what now?” Beck asked.
Dad chuckled.
“If you want it,” I reiterated to Beck, knowing it was the right decision, “it’s yours.”
Beck exhaled. Clearly it was a lot to take in. And neither of us wanted to pressure him. But my parents would be keeping their trip to Florida. The last thing I wanted was them putting their dreams on hold on my behalf.
“Listen, we know this was just sprung on you.” I turned my attention to my father. “You and Mom go to Florida. I’ll help out while you’re gone. I need something to do, and a source of income, while I figure out next steps. We got this. And it’ll give Beck some time to think about it.”
True to his easy-going nature, Beck shrugged. “Works for me. And I agree with Mae. You guys deserve it.” He made his way over to my father to shake his head. “Whatever happens, I appreciate the confidence in me with your legacy, Mr. O’Malley.”
Seeing the two of them together made me all warm and fuzzy inside. They were very different in so many ways—as far as I knew my dad wasn’t a ladies’ man like Beck, even back in the day—but they were both kind at heart, respectful and… it just made me happy that someone believed in Beck.
“We can talk more when I get back. The books?—”
“Don’t worry about them. I got it,” Beck said.
“Uh huh,” I said. “By ‘I got it’ you mean, ‘Mae will do it.’”
Beck had always hated math. I’d done pretty much all of his math homework in exchange for him writing my essays throughout school.
“That’s exactly what I meant.”
“Dad,” I teased. “I’m not sure about leaving Beck as my boss.”
He laughed. “You are co-managers,” he said. “How’s that?”
“Oh, gawd.” Beck rolled his eyes, and head, backwards. “Lord help me.”
“Not sure about the lord,” Dad said to Beck. “But Mama finally sprang for that online program for bookkeeping you’ve been after us about. We can access it remotely, so if there are any problems, we can help.”
Wow, my parents were joining the twenty-first century. Refreshing. “Remote access. Fancy. Do you even have a laptop?” I asked him.
Dad looked at Beck in mock horror. “Do you hear that? The girl goes to a fancy school in France and suddenly thinks her father is a country bumpkin.”
