Page 10 of Reclaimed Roots

"This is how he'd want things to be. He'd want us to be laughing. To remember the happy times," Mom said.

"I wish I'd made more memories here with him the last few years."

"Just because we weren't here in Sable Point doesn't mean we didn't make great memories together."

"But I should have been here when he was sick."

"You couldn't have known it would happen so fast, Natalie. We all thought there'd be more time."

It gave me some measure of comfort to know she didn't blame me for not being there in his last moments. But a well of guilt remained in my stomach, deep and dark and unwilling to dry up.

We spent the next few hours sorting, organizing, and making lists of what needed to be done. I threw myself into the mind-numbing work, grateful for the distraction.

As I was cross-referencing some files, Mom cleared her throat. "Natalie, I've been talking to our lawyer."

I froze, a cold dread seeping through me. I couldn't run from this conversation forever.

Mom continued, "We have a few options. We could sell the business if we can find a buyer. Or..." She looked at me intently. "Or you could take over."

My headsnapped up as she carried on.

"Your father always said he wanted to pass it down to you someday, but..."

But I'd left. I ran away to the city, to a shiny corporate accounting job—a life far removed from the small-town roots that had started to feel more like shackles than a safety net.

"Mom, I..." My throat tightened. "I can't. I mean, I have my job in Chicago, and..." And I was a coward. A selfish coward who was terrified of letting people down, of not measuring up to the impossible standards I set for myself. Terrified of settling down in a small town and watching all my dreams wither and die. Of being forced to see Jasper day in and day out, a constant reminder that I'd ruined my only chance at real love.

"I want to do right by his clients. They'll be in better hands with someone more qualified." The lie tasted like acid on my tongue, but I pressed on. "I don't have his years of experience, his goodwill in the community. Maybe it's better to just sell. Let someone else carry the torch."

"Oh, honey." Mom squeezed my hands. "No one expects you to be your father. You'll carry on his legacy in your own way, on your own terms. And everyone in Sable Point adores you. They watched you grow up. They'll rally around you."

She paused, making sure to catch my gaze. "But only if it's what you truly want. Your dad, he'd never want you to take this on out of obligation. He'd want you to pursue your own dreams. Whether that's here in Sable Point or back in the city or anywhere in between."

I studied the photos on Dad's wall while I let her words sink in. She was right. Dad always wanted me to follow my own path, even when it led me far from home. He'd told me not to let some misplaced sense of duty push me down a road that wasn't right for me.

And I had no intention of letting that happen.

Mom wandered over to Dad's chair and stroked the battered leather. "Natalie, no one would blame you for not wanting to upend your whole life. Your father would want you to do what makes you happy."

But whatwouldmake me happy? It was a question I'd been avoiding for far too long.

Mom gave me a sad smile, like she'd heard every one of my thoughts. "You don't have to make any decisions right now. Give yourself some time. I'll support you no matter what."

I nodded. She was right. I didn't have to figure out my entire future today. But I needed to do it soon.

"What do you say we call it a day?" Mom suggested. "We can come back tomorrow, keep chipping away."

"Sounds good. Maybe we can grab lunch at Rosie's? I've been dreaming about her grilled cheese."

"Rosie's it is."

Chapter Six

JASPER

I pulledup to the house just before noon. It was a rambling two-story colonial, full of nooks and crannies and surrounded by gardens that always seemed to be in bloom no matter the season.

Mom was an incredible gardener. Her love of nurturing plants was almost as strong as her love of baking. The whole property was a riot of color that time of year, a living work of art equal to any painting you'd find in a fancy museum.

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