Page 119 of Book and Ladder
He did this. A place of refuge and beauty stripped bare to make way for another box store. A glaring intrusion on what had been simple and timeless.
How did over half the town agree to this?
How did I?
An elderly couple shuffles toward an old sedan in the gravel lot between Daisy’s shop and the scar of land beside it. In my shock, I hadn’t even noticed their car.
The woman waves; I wave back. Her husband lingers by the door while she steps closer, resting her hands on the low fence.
Pointing back toward Moss and Maple, she says, “That little store underwrote half my class fundraisers when I was teaching.” Her lips thin and her eyes narrow at me. “Daisy and her family helped hundreds of Waterford kids learn to love books. We can’t pretend places like this don’t matter.”
The lump in my throat feels too big to swallow. “I couldn’t agree more.”
The corner of her mouth pinches up, quiet judgment cutting deeper than her unspoken words.If you agree, what did you do to stop this?
I swallow hard.Nothing. I did nothing.
“Have a nice day,” I say in lieu of a defense.
“You too.” She turns back, waving off her husband’s apology for her bluntness. I admire her grace and grit—reminds me a lot of Daisy.
My dad’s black Mercedes rolls up, a stark contrast to our surroundings. The gleam of it looks obscene against all this dirt.
“Thanks for coming,” he says, clapping me on the back like Mr. Potter inIt’s a Wonderful Life.
What are you doing, George Bailey?
Dad and I cross the churned earth to where a man I’ve never met studies blueprints. His pressed shirt and dress shoes look as out of place as Dad’s car.
“Phillip, this is my son, Patrick.”
Phillip’s grip is firm, practiced. “Your father speaks highly of you. I’m glad we’re finally getting a chance to bring you in at the ground level. Looking forward to partnering with you on this build.”
I glance at my dad as if we’ve been speaking in two different languages with no interpreter. That’s on me. I’ve never given him reason to think I wasn’t fluent in his.
Boat. Dock. Water. I’ve straddled for too long. Now something’s about to tear.
Dad beams—pride I’ve never seen aimed at me. “This is only the beginning, son. We’ll make improvements the town will thank us for later. People cling to the past. They resist change. But innovation—that’s what made this country great. Waterford won’t wither on our watch.”
I remain silent, and not the kind that speaks volumes. I’mcomplicit—doing what I always do. Agreeing. Going along. Never bucking against the iron fist.
If I keep this up, I’ll never have a chance with Daisy.
It’s time to abandon the dock. The ship is leaving the harbor.
If I’m going to be the man who wins her heart—or even has a chance at a friendship with her, I have to start standing up for what matters to her.
I can’t keep kowtowing to my father.
I’m going to have to take a stand.
Chapter 32
Daisy
The hardest thing to do is leaving your comfort zone.
But you have to let go of the life you’re familiar with
