I smiled warmly at Eric, who'd come in this morning to interview for one of the two open roles I was hoping to hire for. "Well, I think that about wraps things up." I looked over at June, who sat beside me, and saw her nod in agreement before turning back to him. "Thanks for coming in today, and one of us will reach out to you in the next couple of days with our decision."

Eric—a twenty-six-year-old from New York, who had recently broken up with his boyfriend and was looking for a new start in a smaller town—readjusted the beanie he wore and said, "Thanks for taking the time to meet with me." His eyes traveled over to our half-full display case, before sheepishly asking, "Would it be weird if I bought one of those lemon meringue muffins before heading out?"

I laughed and shook my head as June stood up to grab it for him. "Not at all. But don't worry about paying, we'll get that wrapped up for you free of charge."

"Are you sure?" he asked. His eyebrows furrowing warily as though trying to discern if this was a test of sorts.

"One hundred percent." A moment later, June returned, passing him a small paper bag with the muffin enclosed. "A little welcome to town gift."

"Thanks," he said, reaching over with his free hand to shake both of ours. "Let's hope the rest of the town is as welcoming."

After reaffirming that I thought he'd love it here, he bid us both goodbye and left the shop. At which time I turned to June and asked, "So, what did you think?"

She'd ended up needing two days off work to recoup and fully bounce back from her stomach bug, which I didn't fault her for at all. Though it certainly reinforced the need to hire some help sooner rather than later, because while I got through the near fourteen-hour days, it wasn't something I wanted to do again. And I didn't want June to fall into the same predicament either once I stepped away.

"I think he could definitely work for the full-time role," she replied. "He has a lot of retail and barista experience, so I think he'll be able to work well with customers, and then also handle stock and inventory when needed once he's trained up. He didn't particularly have any baking experience, but I'll be mostly in charge of that side of things, and for one of the part-time roles we hire for, we could look for someone with a bit more of a baking edge."

"Very true," I agreed. "And I don't know if you picked up on it, but he kind of reminded me a little bit of you when you first landed in town."

"How so?"

"He's looking for a new place to call home and seems eager to work hard to put down roots." I bumped her hip with mine. "I think you both will get along well."

A small snort escaped her as the corners of her lips pulled upward. "We'll see how things go, but I agree, I think he'll be easy to work with and on top of his shit."

"Then it's settled." I clapped. "I'll call him tomorrow to tell him the good news, and hopefully he'll be able to start next week."

"And in the meantime, I'll go finish filling up the display case for the lunch rush." She hooked her thumb over her shoulder as she began to back away, then nodded towards the front store. "As it looks like a few customers are looking for an early lunch."

As I slid back behind the counter, I indeed noticed the car that had pulled into the parking lot with an out of state license plate and, seemingly, a family on vacation piling out of it. Not seconds later, the eldest child opened the door, bell ringing overhead, and I smiled as I said, "Welcome. How can I help you?"

***

Being a weekday, the lunch rush wasn't super busy. Just a steady stream of locals and tourists alike looking to grab something to eat. And despite June urging me to take off early—since we'd switched shifts for the remainder of the week—because she was confident that she could handle things on her own, I stayed until my shift was over at one before jumping on my bike and riding over to my dad's.

With my workload the last couple of days, I hadn't had a chance to see him, and while I knew Ryan and Bowen had dropped by to keep him company the last couple of mornings, it felt strange not seeing him myself. I hadn't gone more than two days without seeing him since my mom had passed.

It didn't take long to reach his house, and after propping my bike up against the side of his house, I clambered up the steps and knocked on the door a few times before letting myself in.

"Dad?" I called out as I slipped off my shoes. "You around?"

"In the kitchen."

Following his voice, I found him washing the dishes he presumably had used for lunch and immediately jumped in to take over. "Here," I said, reaching to grab the sponge and the pan from his hands. "Why don't you sit down, and I'll finish these up."

He shot me an astute look as he dried his hands, before moving to take a seat at the dining table. "I am capable of cleaning up after myself, you know that right?"

"I know that dad—" I tossed a glance over my shoulder. "—but there's nothing wrong with accepting a bit of help now and then."

I didn't think anything of the beat of silence that followed, believing my dad to simply be waiting until I finished the dishes to respond or turn the conversation in another direction. But I was wrong. On his end, the silence was uneasy and tense as he searched for how to get his next words out.

"You're right, there's not, and I can admit that," he finally spoke. "But why haven't you taken your own advice?"

A crinkle formed on my forehead, unsure of what he was referring to as I finished up the dishes, turned the water off, and faced him. "What do you mean?"

He tapped his fingers on the tabletop. "Well, don't get mad—" Those were definitely not words I wanted to hear. "—but I'm talking about the fact that you're unhappy at the store. That you're planning on leaving."

My eyes widened and my body froze as a guilty feeling caused my stomach to twist. "Where did you hear that?" I asked, almost robotically.

"Ryan let it slip a few days ago when he was here, because he assumed I already knew," my dad responded. There was no anger or confusion to be found; he was simply calm and collected as he spoke. "Which begs the question... why didn't you tell me that's what you were planning?"

"I—" Closing my eyes for a moment, I let out a soft breath. "I honestly don't know."

"Did you think that I wouldn't have been supportive? That I would've tried to stop you?"

I shook my head adamantly. "No." But I knew that wasn't actually true. There was a part of me—which was growing immensely heavy and making itself known—that had been terrified he'd have thought me leaving the store meant letting my mom down. Letting our family down. "Or, I don't know, maybe a little," I conceded a few moments later, pushing my fingers through my hair as I took a seat next to him. I could feel the ripples of tears of frustration begin to cloud my eyes as I admitted, "I didn't think you'd try and stop me, but more that you would be upset I was letting go of one of the last things that connected me to mom."

"That's ridiculous," he said with bewilderment. He reached over and put both his hands on top of mine. "One, because my role as your father is to be supportive of whatever you choose to do. You're a smart, caring, and determined young woman, and whether you're working at the Wilma's, teaching, or choosing a completely new path, I'll always be proud of you as long as you're happy.

"And secondly, the store isn't your last connection to your mother. All the memories you have with her—the laughs, the adventures, the lessons—they'll always be with you. In your heart and in your mind. No one can ever take those away from you, and you'll always carry her close to you."

The smallest smile wobbled onto my lips. "I miss her... a lot... but I don't think I can take up her mantle at the store any longer."

"That's okay honey. The store was your mother's thing, it doesn't have to be yours. It never did," he said. "Was I grateful that you stepped up when everything went to shit last year? Of course I was, but it's high past time you go back to living your life for you."

Those words—having the affirmation that I wasn't letting him down by following my own dreams—were exactly what I needed to hear in that moment. "Thanks, dad."

"You're welcome," he replied, squeezing my hands. "Now—" He leaned back in his chair, watching me with a curiousness in his gaze. "—tell me about how things are really going at the store. I know you scared off that business tycoon, but how's the day to day? Is June feeling better? Are there any prospects for new hires? When are you planning to step away?"

For the next half hour, we sat there as everything came out—the sales, June's amazing work and how she was stepping up, Eric and my plan to hire a few new folks. It felt freeing. Like a weight had lifted from my shoulders.

The only issue, which I ignored at that moment but was certainly stewing in the back of my mind, was the fact that I hadn't been given the choice to open up and be vulnerable. To tell the truth. It'd been forced upon me unexpectedly. Something I'd fallen into because of Ryan, and that didn't sit well with me. Not one bit.