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Goldy purses her lips. "No, Dandelion. You are the grown woman with no money in your bank account, a minimum wage job, and no college education to fall back on. I'm sure you've been having all kinds of fun baking for pennies and partying away your free time, but some of us understand what it takes to run a successful business in the real world."
"Oh, yeah?" I'm running on pure adrenaline and anger now. "Is that what you've been doing all these years while you've been riding Brit's coattails? Have you been learning what it takes to run a business?"
Her expression goes ice cold and my stomach flips. Too far. I've gone too far and now she's mad at me.
I hate it when my sisters are mad at me.
Or worse, when I unintentionally hurt them.
Slowly, carefully, Goldy slides her hands over her shorts and bare thighs as though she's wearing a ball gown and is smoothing out the wrinkles. "My title might be Brit's administrative assistant, but her business is small enough that my actual title should be CFO. I handle all the accounting, all the travel plans, and all the scheduling." She clears her throat and looks away. "At least I used to do those things. Brit handled the hands on part of the business and I handled everything behind the scenes."
"Goldy," I say, my anger softening. "Are you sad Brit's opening a pre-school? Would you have preferred to continue on as you were?"
Goldy meets my gaze, her expression hard. "It doesn't matter what I want, because that isn't how the world works. Reality is that plans change and sometimes those of us who prefer the behind-the-scenes part of the job are forced to step onto center stage and interact with…" She shudders. "Children."
"Have you told Brittany how you feel?"
She purses her lips, a clear giveaway that she has, in fact, told Brit none of this. Which makes no sense, because I've never known Goldy to hold back her opinion about anything. "This change has made Brittany happy. And, since I'm forced to stay here for a year, I plan to attempt this new venture with grace and good nature."
"So she'll give you a good reference? Goldy, you can't think she'd ever give you a bad one just because you don't want what she does."
"I need time. I'd appreciate if you don't share what I've told you with Brittany or Grant or any of your many, many friends."
"I'll keep your secret." I feel more tenderness for my sister than I have in a very long time. Does she have many friends? If so, I've met none of them, other than Brittany. "I'll keep your secret if you keep mine."
She wrinkles her nose, clearly offended. "I don't share personal information, mine or anyone else's, without a good reason."
"I opened a bakery. I partnered with a friend, someone I trusted implicitly. I handled the baking and the selling, and she handled all the behind-the-scenes stuff. For almost a year we were very successful."
Goldy sinks into the couch as though too exhausted to sit up straight any longer. It's strange to see her like this, weary and sad. It's a side she never showed us as kids. How much of her discipline and indefatigable work ethic was a front borne of necessity? "The business you were on the phone about the other day. Why didn't you tell me?"
I started this story without thinking it through, but I've never been good at lying or making up stories on a whim, so I tell her the truth. "I didn't think you'd believe me if I did tell you. A year of in the black profits seemed like the best kind of proof." I smile sadly. "Abby pushed me out of the business days before we got to that point."
Goldy straightens back up. "She pushed you out? Why?"
"Money. Boring and cliché as hell, but true. She was tired of splitting the profits with me and figured she was more responsible for our success than I was. She forced me out of the business, telling me my baking wasn't good enough, and she gave terrible references for me at every bakery within fifty miles."
Goldy gasps, outraged on my behalf. "Your baking is wonderful. You are magic with pastry. I hope her bakery fails."
Her compliment brings tears to my eyes, but tears have always made Goldy uncomfortable, so I hold them in and shrug. "It might, or it might not. It doesn't really matter, because I won't be there and I'll never have another shot at my dream."
"Why in the world are you starting a sanctuary farm when your dream is to start a bakery?"
"I don't own a cute downtown space, Goldy. I own a farm. I have no money and no business partner or investors. I can't start a bakery from nothing. But dreams can change. I've been wanting to try new recipes, to branch out into a new market, and vegan food is becoming more and more popular. With a sanctuary farm, maybe I can save animals like Mari and still sell my pastries. Maybe I can do more. Maybe I can teach people how to bake and spend all day every day in a kitchen and also make life better for a few animals nobody else wants." I sigh, realizing that burger I ate at dinner might be my last, because all I can think of at the moment is Mari being led to slaughter. "Humans domesticated and bred these animals, we made them incapable of surviving in the wild. We can't abandon them when they get too big or cease to earn a profit."
"I would never throw you away, Dani. I hope you know that. Your earning potential doesn't represent your worth."
I narrow my eyes at her in the dim light of the room. Yep, she's serious. I toss a pillow at her and she catches it but doesn't throw it back. "I'm not talking about myself, you nincompoop. You'd never throw me away, you'd just think less of me."
"No," she says emphatically. "Never. I just want you to succeed. In a lot of ways, after Dad left, I felt responsible for you and the others. It was my job to make sure you did well in school and were happy. I guess I haven't quite let go of that job."
"Well, let go. We're grown and alive and mostly happy. Your work is done."
"I'll try." She definitely doesn't look happy about it.
"Just think how Dad must be rolling over in his grave right now. How much would he hate to know we're building him a non-profit legacy built on saving the lives of the animals he most loved to eat?"
"He's not rolling over in his grave," Goldy says, her lips twitching. "He was cremated."
