Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 94585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
“What kind of favor?” she asked and raised a hand to touch the bruise on my cheek. I stepped back, shaking my head.
Chapter Five
Daisy
This wasn't Royal's fault. I was in the right place at the right time and I kind of stopped a break-in. Sort of. It's complicated. And I'm not getting mixed up with Royal Sawyer. He's not my type.” I hoped that would be the end of it.
J.T. looked at his feet and murmured, “Royal’s everybody's type.”
Before I could glare at J.T. he did what we’d been doing for each other since middle school and saved my ass. Winding his arm through Sheree's, he turned her to the double doors leading to the front of the shop. “Come on, Sheree, let's get you back in an apron. We have customers, and we can't let Daisy out front looking like that. She'd scare them all away, right? Anyway, she's got orders to fill.”
Grams gave my arm a squeeze and followed them out.
We’d had a momentary lull when the flowers came, but it didn’t last long. The sounds of a busy shop leaked through the doors as I worked. It was a good thing my mom had shown up when she did. I had my hands full filling orders, prepping for the next day, and trying to figure out my next target for expansion now that I'd locked down The Inn.
I couldn’t forget scheming a way to get my mother alone. I needed to know about Dad, and I couldn't ask in front of Grams or J.T. They still didn't know what I’d done. With every day that passed, it got harder and harder to tell them.
Who was I kidding? It didn't get harder, it had started out impossible and only got worse.
I couldn't tell them. I wouldn't.
I was just going to fix the problem and then no one ever had to know. Every time I hit that train of thought my stomach squirmed with unease. Making excuses for my own bad judgment sounded too much like my father.
Not telling is a lie. I knew it, but every time I opened my mouth to come clean the words disappeared.
I had a plan. And maybe, just maybe, my dad would come through.
J.T. and I followed Mom and Grams back to the house after we closed. As J.T. said, “Might as well get a free meal if Grams is cooking.”
I usually settled for a sandwich in the evenings, hastily assembled while I finished up the day's work, or did paperwork at my desk. I could use a decent meal, and I hadn't seen my mother in months. If I went to dinner at the house I might have the chance to catch her alone.
Sheree had learned a few things in her decades of marriage to my father. She proved elusive, always managing to be right next to Grams or J.T. every time I tried to catch her eye.
She knew I hadn't told them.
By the end of dinner, I found myself wanting to stomp my foot like a thwarted child. Sheree was always so sweet and kind and affectionate. It's true, she was all of those things. She also used them to hide her wily side.
I finally pinned her down while she washed dishes in the kitchen and J.T. had pulled Grams aside to ask her about something he was studying in class.
Grabbing a pot to dry, I tried to act casual. “Mom, how was Charlotte? Did you like it?”
“Charlotte?” she asked as if she'd never heard of the biggest city in North Carolina. Crap. That wasn't a good sign considering that's where Dad had said he’d find his big business opportunity.
Cautious, not wanting to spook her, I pressed a little harder. “Yeah, Charlotte. I thought that’s where you guys were.”
“Oh, of course. It was nice. I don't care for it in the winter, though, so we headed down to Tampa.”
“Is, um, Dad planning on coming for a visit?”
My fingers curled into fists behind my back. I wanted to demand information. Considering the position they put me in, I didn't think a little straight talk was out of line. Not going to happen. My mother and straight talk were not acquaintances.
“He'll be along, I expect. He had some things to wrap up.”
I swallowed hard and braced, keeping my voice low. “And the money, Mom? Do you know if Dad's planning on paying me back? He was supposed to have it by Christmas, remember?”
She refused to meet my eyes, scrubbing hard at the casserole dish in the sink. “Daisy, baby, you know I don't handle things like that. I'm sure your father has it under control. You ask him when he gets here, and he'll get this sorted out for you. Hasn’t he always taken care of you?”
No, I wanted to shout. He’s never taken care of me. Grams took care of me and now the three of us have screwed her over.