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Lazarus grins. "Yeah, Earl went to Roanoke to con people, didn't he? Too many people around here knew him. At least that's what Dad said. That guy was cool as hell."
I stare at them, jaw dropped. I snap it shut. "You didn't know my father is Earl Weston? You just assumed I was up to no good because I did something nice for the mayor's wife?"
Grant rubs his jaw and looks away. "You've been here four days and you've already got half a cupcake catering business going. I don't want Lazy to get used to having you around, only for you to leave." He clears his throat. "People who get used to fresh baked cherry danishes tend to revolt when they're asked to go back to store-bought desserts and stale coffee."
Lazarus laughs and slaps his brother on the back. "She already told you, man, she's not going to share her sweets with you. Come on, Dani, we can talk in my office."
But I don't follow Lazarus right away. I stare at Grant, trying to figure him out. No one in my life has ever suggested I'm meant for better things or that I'll be able to build a business in a short time. This guy has to be mocking me.
But Grant stares right back, defiance on every line of his face. Defiance against what, I have no idea.
I turn away before I figure it out.
CHAPTER SIX
Dani
When I walk into the kitchen, all three of my sisters turn to look at me. Spread out before them on the table are notebooks and sheets of paper that look like they have graphs on them.
Goldy.
Of course she's taken my idea and run with it.
"You're late," Goldy says.
"We waited ten minutes." Clover's smile is reassuring as she pats the seat next to her.
"Which was a waste of time." Goldy shuffles her papers. "As usual, Dani puts a plan in motion and there is no follow through."
Her words sting, but I push the hurt down. Arguing will prove nothing to Goldy. She only recognizes action. "I got a job in town, and I had to fill out some paperwork."
"Congratulations," Clover says. "Is it at the bakery?"
I hadn't even been able to step into the bakery. I'd been saving it for the last option and only if I was desperate. After losing my bakery and getting turned down for a job at every bakery in the metro Atlanta area, the wound is still too raw, my grief over the loss still too sharp.
"It's at the bookstore by the river. They sell coffee and bakery items. I'll be baking for them and acting as barista."
"Congratulations," Clover says again.
"That's wonderful news," Honey says.
"Good news," Goldy says. "Between that and baking for the diner, you ought to be able to get by until we're all freed from this ridiculous inheritance prison and you can go back to a real job."
I wince, but don't argue. Goldy has never seen what I do as a real job. She still sees me as the kid in the kitchen, baking so much that I've used up all the sugar for her coffee, oblivious to the fact that our single mother isn't getting child support from our father and can't afford to keep buying baking ingredients. A detail, I'll point out, no one told me, because in our family we don't talk things out or share bad news.
It's why no one here knows I co-owned a bakery for a year, and no one knows I lost it.
If they find out I lost it because I didn't read the contracts, it will be even worse.
I take a seat at the table and drag the nearest spread sheet over. "What ideas have you all come up with for a business so far?"
"It needs to be something we can fold up after a year with no harm done to the community," Goldy says.
Honey huffs. "That's your opinion. I like Catalpa Creek and I like this house. I want to stay."
That's news to me, but my sisters don't look surprised. In fact, they look weary. Like they've been over this repeatedly.
"I like it here, too." I don't realize how true that is until I say it. Catalpa Creek holds bad memories from my childhood, but the mountains feel like home. I love being away from the city and in a place where I can walk across my backyard to climb a mountain. "I could see staying."
