Page 26 of The Charmed Friends of Trove Isle
There was a long silence.
“It was nice. Last night. Jo would have liked it,” he finally said.
Melody had already realized that he was right. Jo would have liked it. She probably did like it from wherever she was watching from. Maybe from the Isle of Lost Things. “Yes. She would have.”
“I think when I die, I want to go out the same way,” her father said, surprising her.
Melody let out a startled laugh. Her father was dry. Humorless. Boring even. She would expect nothing less than a funeral with only piano music. No singing. No guitar. Definitely not drums. “You’re kidding.”
“Absolutely.” He turned to look at her. He wasn’t smiling exactly, but there was a subtle twinkle in his eyes. “I’m glad you’re here. It’s good to see you.”
She shifted back and forth on her feet, currently in the strappy black sandals she’d slipped on yesterday before the celebration of life. Her feet ached to take them off. Her body ached to climb into her childhood bed. She couldn’t quite return her father’s sentiment—not yet—but she was working on it. “Thank you,” she said instead. “That means a lot,” she added, meaning it.
To: Bri Johnson
From: Liz Dawson
Subject: Change is coming
Bri,
Sharing a house with Rose has reminded me of why I couldn’t wait to leave my parents’ place when I was eighteen. She doesn’t pick up her things or respect mine. And she’s a night owl even though she knows I wake up early to open The Bitery.
I turned down the photography job for Missy Lyons’ parents. I don’t have transportation or a responsible person to cover the bakery. Saying no took a little piece of my soul though. I wanted to say yes. Really wanted to. I’ve been thinking, ever since Jo’s letter at her celebration of life. She said something about not being afraid to follow your dreams. I know this sounds crazy, but I think she was talking directly to me. There are things I want to change about my life, but for that to happen,Ineed to change. I’m just not quite sure how. I guess deciding what I want is the first step. Scratch that, deciding what I don’t want is first. I don’t want to work at the bakery for the next thirty years. I don’t want to spend my whole life on Seagull Street. I don’t want to be afraid of everything. I want to chase my dreams like Jo did. I’m tired of letting my fear hold me back.
Stay tuned. Liz 2.0 is coming.
xx,
Liz
P.S. I’m coming to visit next week. It’s not as easy with my parents in Ecuador. I’ll find someone else to drive me—just not Rose because her license should be revoked.
CHAPTEREIGHT
LIZ
Liz’s gaze flicked to the clock on the wall. It was four o’clock. Rose was an hour late. She was supposed to take over the counter after school so that Liz could leave early and snap some photographs. But it looked like that wouldn’t be happening today, no thanks to Rose.
Just as Liz had resigned herself to closing the shop for the sixth night in a row, the front door to the bakery opened and Rose breezed in, wearing a tank top and the shortest pair of shorts Liz had ever seen.
Liz sucked in a breath. “We had an agreement. You have to follow Mom’s rules. You can’t dress like that.”
Rose stopped walking and thumbed behind her. “Want me to leave? I can go home and chill while you finish up the day here.”
Liz was sure her sister would love that. “No. You’re working. I have a spare pair of shorts in the back room on the shelf. They should fit you. I’ll wait while you change.”
Rose’s face contorted in disbelief. “You’re not serious.”
“Oh, I am. Hurry, please. I’d like to leave while there’s still daylight outside.”
Rose turned on her heel and headed toward the staff restroom, returning a couple minutes later wearing a pair of stonewashed jean shorts with a longer hemline. “Happy now?”
“Much better. Call me if you need anything.” Liz collected her oversized purse from under the counter and headed toward the front door. “And don’t put a tip jar out this time. We don’t collect tips here. Mom’s rule.”
Rose huffed. “Mom doesn’t pay well enoughnotto collect tips.”
Liz sucked in a breath. “She pays better than most part-time jobs around here. Especially ones that are willing to hire irresponsible sixteen-year-olds who are consistently late. No tip jar.”
