Page 94 of Hometown Girl

“I was really, really wrong.” Slowly, she sat down in the chair next to him. “My dad had been running his business for years. It was doing really well—like, really well.” She glanced at him. She saw no judgment, only a willingness to let her talk.

“Like I said before, we manufacture lawn mower parts. I thought I’d found a less expensive way to make this one specific part. I went to my dad and told him about it, and he wouldn’t even hear me out.”

She’d been so excited—so sure she’d found something that would save money. They’d streamlined the material, made it more affordable so shops like theirs didn’t have to pay as much. The best part was they wouldn’t have to change what they charged because nobody would ever know the difference.

She worked for two weeks straight on a presentation to take to her dad. Now that she was managing the office, keeping costs within their budget was something she was responsible for, and she wanted nothing more than to do him proud.

She’d hardly gotten through the opening paragraph of her presentation when he held up a hand and stopped her. “No.”

She stood, slack-jawed, in front of his desk. “You haven’t heard what I’m going to say.”

“I know where this is going. I’m not changing the materials in our parts. Our customers rely on us. They know they’re getting the best. This stuff”—he waved a hand across her paperwork—“is not the best.”

“It could save us a lot of money.”

“And it could ruin our reputation. I appreciate your work on this, Beth, but the answer is no.”

She recounted the conversation for Drew, then paused to take a breath.

“It might’ve been the first time in my life I didn’t do what my father said.” She stared at her folded hands in her lap. “And I should have. About six months later, customers started complaining. Because of the change, our clients’ mowers were defective, and three of them got together and sued my dad’s company.”

Beth could feel the tears building behind her eyes. Drew hadn’t moved a muscle the whole time they sat there. He only listened. She supposed men who hated talking were good at that.

“I’d never seen my father so angry,” she said. “Especially at me. At my brother Seth, maybe—but me?”

Beth had been so ashamed. Whitaker Mowers was being sued for the first time, and it was because of her. She’d tarnished the reputation of the company her father had tirelessly worked to build.

“The worst part was that he took the blame.” She wiped a traitorous tear from her cheek and stared at the ground. “He never told anybody it was my fault. And neither did I.” Of course Darren Sanders had found out—a paper trail tattled on her. When he’d confronted her on it only a few weeks ago, she’d almost felt relieved.

Almost. As far as anyone in her family knew, she was still working at Whitaker. How was that for shameful?

“Is that why you work so hard? You’re trying to make it up to him?”

She shrugged. “He died before I could. He had a heart attack. I can’t help but think that was my fault too. I caused so much stress. I broke his heart.” Another tear slid down her cheek. “But a part of me has always felt like I had something to prove.”

“Right, because you’re supposed to do something more.”

She stilled. “More than Willow Grove? Yes. Great dreams don’t come true in places like this.”

“Sometimes they do.”

Slowly, she found his eyes.

“Mine don’t. I’m not like the people who live here. People like Callie. She never had big dreams like I did. She likes this small town. She bakes pies for a living—and she loves it. The only thing missing from her life is a husband and a carload of babies. Once she has that, she’ll never wish for anything else the rest of her life.”

“And that’s not okay?”

“It’s great for her.” Beth wiped her palms on her jeans. “Not for me.” She paused. “I just thought I’d be closer to my goals by now, I guess.”

“You do realize you are one of the people who live here, right?”

She frowned, then looked away.

“And there’s nothing wrong with that.”

He didn’t understand. How could he? He hadn’t grown up here.

He took another drink. “Did you ever think maybe the something ‘more’ you were supposed to do is exactly what you’re doing right now?”

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