Page 30 of The Good Luck Cafe
He cleared his throat again. He could use a bottle of water right now instead of a hot coffee. “I’m not unhappy. When the right person comes along though, I’ll be ready.”
Darla nodded. “Sometimes the right person just needs a little extra time to figure things out.”
Was she insinuating that Moira was the right person for him? If so, she didn’t have a good bead on her daughter. He was probably the last person Moira would ever want to begin a relationship with—even if he’d felt something different coming from Moira lately. Or maybe that was his imagination.
“I want you to know that turning Doug down for a job here had nothing to do with me being upset about the town’s plans.”
“A job here?” Gil asked.
Darla gave him a strange look. “He didn’t tell you? Doug has come in a few times asking about a part-time job. I tried to hire him a couple years ago, and he turned me down. After he came here last month inquiring, I was planning to hire him. Then you gave me the news. I’d love to have Doug work for me but, safe to say, it’s not the best time for me to be taking on new employees.”
“I understand,” Gil said, even though he didn’t. Doug worked for him. Was Doug planning to quit, or was he going to take on two jobs? Granted, Gil didn’t pay much more than minimum wage, and being a campaign manager for a small-town mayor wasn’t exactly a full-time position.
“Maybe after I relocate,” Darla said. “IfI relocate.”
“If?” Gil blinked back at Darla. “You have to. Somerset Lake needs you.”
“Not as bad as they need a parking lot, apparently.”
***
At five o’clock, Moira signed off the dispatch and headed into her bedroom with intention. There was a town hall meeting tonight, and she planned to be there. Her mom should be attending as well. It was her bakery after all. Her livelihood.
Moira stepped into the bathroom and brushed her hair into place. She wasn’t one to wear a lot of makeup, but she was addressing a room full of people tonight. She wanted to look and feel her best. She also wanted her mom to come with her. When Moira had called to ask Darla earlier in the week, Darla had made excuses. That’s why Moira was heading over to her parents’ house right now to make a convincing argument that her mother couldn’t resist.
After a short drive, Moira pulled into the driveway of the home she’d grown up in. She’d spent half her childhood here in this ranch-style brick house and the other half in Sweetie’s. They were both a part of her. Even though she’d grown up here, Moira rang the doorbell like any other guest. After high school and moving into her own place, she’d learned her lesson about not stepping inside unannounced. Her parents took advantage of their empty nest in ways Moira wished she never knew about.
“Oh, Moira. This is a nice surprise,” Darla said as she opened the door wider. “I thought you had something else to do tonight.”
Moira stepped into the living room and turned to face her mom. “I do. I’m going to the town hall meeting, and I still want you to come with me. That’s why I’m here.”
Darla frowned and started walking toward the kitchen, where Moira could smell Italian herbs in the air. “I already told you, I have no interest in going to tonight’s meeting. I’ve never had any interest in politics, you know that. That was always you.”
Moira had dabbled in student government in high school. She’d never been the student body president or anything, but she’d been treasurer and she’d loved being involved during that time in her life. Growing up, she’d also taken an interest in local events and causes like saving the old oak tree on the lake when the town had wanted to chop it down. Moira had joined all the protests organized by her school, and she’d been part of the journalism club as well.
“Mom, this is about more than just being involved in politics. This is your business. Your livelihood. You need to speak up while there’s still time to change things. Bringing up this issue at tonight’s meeting will mean more coming from you.”
Darla kept her back to Moira and talked over her shoulder, tending to a pot on the stove. “Why? Nothing I say will change anyone’s mind. If the town thinks a parking lot would better serve Hannigan Street, who am I to argue?”
“You’re the business owner who’s going to be put out of business, that’s who!” Moira practically yelled.
Her mom finally turned to her. Her cheeks were a rosier shade of red, thanks to the heat from cooking. She sighed wearily as she wiped her hands on the apron tied at her waist. “Well, perhaps that’s for the best. Then I can join your father in retirement.”
Moira wanted to scream. Why was her mom just lying down and taking this? “Dad is ten years older than you, Mom. You’d be miserable if you retired, and you know it. What are you going to do, take up knitting?”
Her mom put her hands on her hips. “What’s wrong with knitting? Your grandmother loved knitting. Maybe I would too.”
Moira threw her hands up in the air. “Fine, if you won’t fight for Sweetie’s, I will.”
“Mo, do you really think that’s a good idea?”
“Yes, I do. And you should too.”
Her father walked into the room, skidding to a stop when he realized the tension in the room. He looked between Darla and Moira. “What’s going on?”
Moira gestured toward her mother. “I want Mom to come to the town hall meeting with me tonight and fight for Sweetie’s, and she’d rather spend the rest of her days knitting,” she said with exasperation.
“Knitting?” Her father furrowed his brows. “You don’t even like knitting,” he said to Darla.
