Page 86 of Book and Ladder
I love my parents. They’re decent small-town people. Hard workers. Kind. But living in the same town you grew up in means having more than a few boundaries in place—otherwise, I’d end up living in my childhood bedroom forever. And they’d probably be fine with that—happy, even.
I can’t keep putting off this call. I don’t want to ignore my mom at all. She did nothing wrong and is always on my side. I settle on the side of my bed and answer.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Daisy! Are you alright?” Her voice drips with sympathy and concern.
“I am.”
“I know you like to muscle through situations. I’m trying not to pester.”
“You’re not. Don’t worry. I just knew if I talked to you I’d fall apart. And I have to function. You know?”
“So strong. I’m so proud of you. Mama would be proud of you too.”
I swipe at a tear at the mention of my grandmother.
“She’d know what to do, too,” I lament.
“She did always seem to. But you can’t always stop things from changing, sweet girl. And this one’s big. More than half the town wants a Home Mart. So, it looks like they’ll be gettin’ their wishes.”
“What about Moss and Maple?” I ask, as if she could predict the future.
“You stay in business as long as you can. Your daddy canmeet with you if you like, make a plan to help you scale accordingly.”
Scale—as in, downsize in preparation for the end.
“I haven’t been having very kind thoughts about that family,” I confess.
“The O’Connells? Oh, well. They mean well.”
Do they, though?
“How have you been holding up?” Mom asks.
“Sad.” I pause. “Scared.”
And I feel like a failure. It doesn’t make sense, I know. But feelings rarely do.
“This was my dream,” I remind Mom. “Carrying on Gran’s legacy. And now … ???”
“Now you pivot. You don’t let go of the dream, Daisy. You find a new way to fulfill it.”
“That location is half of the magic of Moss and Maple—the woods out back, the open field just beyond the parking lot. Do you know how crowded and busy our street will be when a big box store moves in? And do you think Mr. O’Connell will stop there? He’s going to want other stores to come in. Condos. Maybe a hotel. Knowing him, he’ll talk an NFL team into moving to Waterford and next thing you know they’ll build a stadium!”
My mom’s laughter is soft and careful, but she’s laughing.
“It’s not funny,” I practically pout.
“No. It isn’t. But you are. I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s a hard pill. I really wish we could predict the future and map out all the roads ahead of us in life. Then we could prepare and ride along in ease. But that’s just not life. Instead, it’s twists and turns and bumps and dips. Sometimes we get unexpected blessings. And other times it’s a big box store taking over the precious little corner of the world we thought we’d preserve forever.”
“I feel like there should be something I could do.”
“I know that feeling well.” That’s all she says. A gift of camaraderie and empathy. No quick fixes.
“You’re grieving,” she adds. “It takes a bit of time to adjust to a loss—even when the loss is something we thought would continue and is probably not going to, at least not in its current form. Give yourself time, Daisy.”
“I don’t know that I have the luxury of time,” I say, falling back onto my mattress.
