If It Makes You Happy(24)
“You’re fine, Trace,” I reassure her.
“She said Emily left her alone. She should at least try to be a good role model.”
I grit my teeth as a spark of irritation skitters through me. “She is.”
“Not good enough. Listen, if something like this happens again, I want to consider … I don’t know … something.”
The sudden tension in my chest almost cuts off air. “Something? What do you mean?”
“Maybe Brittany can … I don’t know … stay with me.”
Tracy does this every so often. She feels guilty and considers adjusting our custody agreement. It scares me every time. She makes good money. It would be too easy for her to change her mind.
I force a laugh. “Trace—”
“The schools here are good. I think.”
“The schools here are good too. They’re settled here. She likes it.”
“Being raised there and liking it are two totally different things.”
The words feel like a knife stabbing through my chest. First, my parents moved, then hers, then Tracy. Some people view Copper Run as a prison. I can’t understand why.
I bite my lip and nod to myself. “Yeah, well, let’s put a pin in that thought. School just started back.”
She sighs. “Fine. But … I’m serious,” she repeats, but it’s hesitant, as if maybe she didn’t convince herself the first time. “I’ll call next week.”
“Can’t wait.” It’s probably more sarcastic than it should be because Tracy doesn’t say goodbye; I only hear a click and then the dull dial tone moaning back at me. I slowly place the phone back.
Emily strolls out from the kitchen, arms folded over her chest and staring at a blank spot on the wall. “She didn’t ask to talk to me,” she murmurs.
My heart sinks, plummeting deeper and deeper with each passing second.
“She was running behind, kiddo,” I manage to say. “I think she’s been really busy out there with work.”
“Sure,” she mumbles.
I squeeze her shoulder. “She didn’t forget.”
Emily nods, then strides right past me, taking Brittany’s hand and walking her back to the Harvest Festival.
It infuriates me how Tracy treats Emily. I try as hard as I can to shield Emily from her mother’s resentment. It’s not Emily’s fault we didn’t use protection at sixteen. But Tracy plays favorites, and it sends my blood pressure skyrocketing every time.
Deep down, Tracy didn’t want a family. She was forced into that role, and being a mom felt like a burden. I was a burden with my stupid jokes and sarcastic comments—an enlightening statement that came out in the divorce proceedings, which I’ll be mulling over for years.
But while I understand her motivation to leave, I can’t fathom genuinely wanting to.
I love my girls so much it hurts. The idea of leaving them would never cross my mind. But that was Tracy’s prerogative. Not mine.
Through the bakery windows, I spot Michelle leaving the corner store across the street and untying Rocket’s leash from the light pole. I’ll need to properly thank her for her help today. I’m just not sure how.
CHAPTER 6
Michelle
The guest book is no longer empty, but I wish it were.
Copper Run is an idyllic town.
The autumn leaves and cozy fall festival were perfect.
New management was fine.
Fine?
I flip back a page, where every entry complimented the bed-and-breakfast experience, complete with a few sentences on the host herself. My mother’s stunning breakfast, the compelling conversation, the overall homey feeling.
I swallow and shut the book, blowing out a breath and closing my eyes. It’s been another week of guests lifting their noses in my direction.
After setting up breakfast this morning, I received a weak smile from the mother in the small family—a condescending please leave us alone smile—so I walked off. I’m leaving them be. I followed every guest around last week, and that didn’t work either. I keep trying different things, and none of it is clicking. But that’s okay. This is another focus group, like in advertising. Another problem to be solved.
But this problem’s solution isn’t clicking. Something always clicks eventually, and the fact that it hasn’t is irritating. I’m better than this. I’m an advertising manager for a reason.
“Oh, it’s beautiful,” a voice coos.
I look up. Lisa waltzes through the front door, peeking around the foyer in awe. George follows. I stiffen behind the front desk. After I left our conversation at the corner store, I didn’t expect to see them again.
“Wow, you even washed the doilies!” Lisa picks one up from the entryway table and grins.
I can’t tell if she’s genuinely beaming or if her cheeks are over-blushed with powder.
“How are things going?” George asks.
“Oh, and the flowers!” Lisa interrupts on a gasp. “And you restocked the newspapers! I always told Birdie she needed to stay on top of that, but, oh, she was never concerned about the news. George, that reminds me; we need to get the paper this morning.”
“You can take one,” I say.