Page 84 of Child of Mine

“I know you could, but the bookstore isn’t turning a profit anymore, so we can’t afford to keep it going.”

“But that’s not fair,” Lilah says, sounding younger than she usually does.

“I know, honey,” my mom answers, sounding much older than she usually does. “It’s not fair at all. I hate it.”

Lilah blinks like she’s struggling to compute all of this information. “What will happen to it?”

“Well, a lady is going to buy it. She’s going to sell yarn, things for knitting and crocheting.”

“But it’s a bookstore.”

“It is now, but those are the things she likes and wants to sell.”

“But it’s ours.” With this protest, her voice wobbles, and I can’t take it anymore. My mom’s doing her best to explain, so I just scoot my chair closer to Lilah’s and scoop her onto my lap, hugging her from behind.

“I know, sweetheart,” my mom continues. “But sometimes you have to make a change, and this is what Grandma has to do right now.”

Lilah takes in a shaky breath. “But what about the books?”

“They’re going back to the publishers.”

“Even the children’s books?”

“Yes, honey.” Now my mom’s getting teary.

“But can I keep my favorites?”

“Well, sure. We can go through them, and you can pick some to keep.”

Lilah’s head drops, and I hug her tight. She’s being so good about this. Then she whispers, “May I be excused?”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

She slips off my lap and walks out of the room without another word. I lean back in my chair so I can watch until she disappears into her room.

Henry leans forward to whisper, “That could’ve gone worse.”

I shake my head. “I don’t think this is over.”

“Bella, we can’t afford to not return most of the books,” my mom says softly.

I nod. “It’s okay, Mom. We’ll figure it out.”

She gets up and grabs a tissue from the box on the counter. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know you did your best.”

“So, what happens next?” Henry asks.

“We wait for it to really hit,” I say. “Could be five minutes, five hours, or five days.”

* * *

Five minutes is allit takes. When I go to check on Lilah, she won’t speak to me. Instead, she slams her bedroom door in my face.

When Henry whispers, “Should I do something?” I stop myself from saying,It’s okay; you can go. He needs to be here for the ugly stuff, too. He needs to see that it’s not all blissful trips to the Public Garden. I crook a finger, and he follows me back to the kitchen.

“Let’s give her a little space before we say goodnight,” I suggest before offering to make tea. After the kettle has boiled and I’ve poured three cups of peppermint tea, Henry offers to check on Lilah.

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