Page 9 of Heart to Heart
“In the office. Desk. Top drawer.”
She nodded, flashing a smile as she proceeded to search for something to clean and straighten. At least some things never changed.
“What?” Josh asked when I flashed another annoyed look in his direction, scooting behind the counter to make my way to the back of the store.
The office was located right off the kitchen in a small, closet-sized room that seemed to be more of an afterthought than a genuine part of the building’s original blueprints. Above the desk marred with dents and a leg held together by prayer, the fluorescent lighting flickered to life when I flipped the switch. On top of being barely functional as a desk, the furniture took up roughly eighty-five percent of the office’s space, making traversing the room a task. Ten pounds heavier and I would have had very real difficulties maneuvering my way around to get to the desk drawers.
As I sat down to reach the top drawer, the buzzer upfront signaled the arrival of what was hopefully the first customer of the day, which meant I needed to put the pedal to the metal.
Okay, deposit bag, where are you?
With a swift yank, I opened the notoriously sticky drawer, shuffling through some papers before locating a vinyl bag tucked underneath a stack of bills. I pulled it out, bringing with it one of the sheets of paper that had been concealing it. The paper floated down to the floor, landing at my feet. I reached for it, snatching it from the floor, stopping short when my eyes caught sight of what I was looking at. An involuntary gasp escaped from my lips, my stomach sinking so low I feared it would bring my cinnamon roll back up with it when it resurfaced again.
A foreclosure notice on my parents’ home—the home where I grew up, where Josh was still living. Most of my fondest memories had been made behind its brick walls and under its gabled roof. If I hadn’t been worried before, the lack of customers felt all the more foreboding with this scrap of paper in my hand. How could this have happened? How had I not known that my parents’ situation had become so dire?
Because you’re not home, you twit.
I’d seized the opportunity to leave South Haven the first chance I’d had. I should have known something was up; I should have checked in. Even worse, I never should have relied on my parents when money was a little tight. Switching schools had been my choice, and the financial strain I’d placed on them had clearly been devastating. The proof was in my hand.
“Avery,” my mother’s voice startled me, “did you find the bag? There’s a customer up front waiting, and I don’t want to leave her alone with your brother for very long, and…What’s wrong, sweetie?”
I debated throwing the notice back inside the drawer and pretending like I hadn’t seen it, but there was no hiding the guilty, shamed expression on my face. “I—I found the bag, but I also found this.” My mom’s face fell when she saw the notice dangling from my trembling fingers. “Is everything okay?”
No, everything isn’t okay, Avery. The bank doesn’t threaten to take away your home if everything is hunky dory.
“Oh, that,” she flicked her wrist like one would when dismissing a minor inconvenience. “I’m sorry you had to see that. You know the pandemic was hard on small businesses, our bakery included. Things were tough for a bit, but it’s beginning to turn around.”
“But—but the house. The bank…”
“Isn’t going to take our house.” A crash from the front of the store, followed by Josh’s proclamation that everything was okay, sparked my mom back into action. “Throw me the bag, please. I have to save this place from your brother.”
Nodding, I tossed the bag into her outstretched arms, watching as she turned to leave. She made it a couple of steps before turning back around to face me again. “Everything’s fine, honey. I promise.”
She’d told me that before. That exact same thing in that exact same tone of voice. My nana had been sick with pneumonia in the hospital. I was eight years old and terrified, wanting to see her but not being able to. Mom, through her own pain, had taken me into her arms, promising me that everything was going to be okay.
Everything had not been okay.
My nana died in the hospital two days later. My mother was shielding me now as she always had, the only difference being that I wasn’t a child anymore.
But Josh? He was a kid. A kid who deserved all the opportunities I had been given, even if that meant fulfilling his dream of becoming Kelsea Ballerini’s pool boy. What would happen to him and his future? More importantly, how would Ms. Ballerini fare without someone standing behind her, cooling her off with the wave of a palm frond?
Unable to stomach looking at it anymore, I folded the notice and stuck it back inside the drawer, wishing I’d never seen it. Operating a bakery during a pandemic had to have been a struggle. Bills must be paid regardless. I just couldn’t keep the nagging feeling that I should have been here from tugging at my heart.
What could I do? How could I help? I couldn’t quit school, not when I was so close to graduating and attending law school. All my parents’ sacrifices—and money—would have been for naught. Maybe I should just hold off on applying to law school indefinitely. If, in fact, law school was even going to be a possibility for me. Should I move back home, disappoint Kiki, abandon my life and my internship, and throw myself into the bakery life?
No, I can’t do that.
I sunk back into the desk chair, its high-pitched squeak masking my groan. There had to be something I could do to earn money, short of making an OnlyFans account. I was awkward enough when out in the wild. Add a camera and I’d become a sweating, stuttering mess, incapable of even standing on my own two feet.
Though there could be a market for that, couldn’t there? There was a market for every kink imaginable.
No, Avery, absolutely not. You have neither the tits nor the feet for the fetishes out there.
Thanks, brain. I can always count on you to keep me from doing, well, anything if I’m being honest, including attending many a social event. Besides, it wasn’t like I could fit much into my schedule, which meant whatever I did would have to be done quickly and yield a ton of cash. Basically, I needed to win the lottery.
Or…
Have you lost your mind, brain?Absolutely fucking not. That’s a solid no.
