“I don’t know what you’re talking about, dear. We’re having coffee and dessert.” She lifted her cup in front of her lips.

  “I can see that.” Lauren knew she’d have to take control of the conversation; otherwise, the three of them could banter back and forth all night.

  “Dad, you know the World Wide Web? The Internet? Online shopping? You are aware of what this is, right?” She shot out the questions with more force than normal.

  “Of course, I do. I’m not senile,” he answered.

  Lauren questioned that at this very moment but went on. “The guy who started online shopping, John Giampalo, he wants me to write his biography. And I said yes.”

  He stared at her but didn’t say a word.

  He knew exactly who she was referring to. This was the stubborn side of her father showing, and thankfully, he didn’t let it appear too often.

  But she was as stubborn as he was, and she could return the stare as long as he dared, knowing now that this was a battle of wills. “I know you know who he is. And for the record, I think you’re acting ridiculous. You too, Mother. If you don’t want to discuss it, fine. I’m going to bed. Someone has to run Razzle Dazzle, despite the dwindling sales. If you two will excuse me, I’m calling it a night.” Lauren dumped her half-eaten slice of pie into the garbage disposal, rinsed the plate off, and put it in the dishwasher. She felt their stares but was not going to give in. Her parents were dolls, but sometimes they acted like dolts. It was one of those times.

  “Good night,” she called as she left the kitchen.

  Upstairs, in the privacy of her own room, she mentally chastised herself for losing patience with her father, and her mother too, but at the same time, she felt justified. They were treating her like a child, and in doing so, they themselves were acting so childish.

  “Heck with it,” she said, grabbing her laptop and plopping down on the bed. Feeling like a sulking teenager who had been sent to her room, Lauren logged on to the Internet and continued to research John Giampalo. She read several more articles and decided she liked the man already. He was quite the philanthropist, donating to dozens of charities, not to mention numerous social and humanitarian causes. A supporter of arts, culture, and education, John Giampalo had certainly shared his wealth, and it appeared that he truly tried to make a difference in the lives of so many. She read through at least a dozen more items, and all were positive. It seemed no one had a negative word to say about him. Lauren knew this was apt to change. He sounded like a decent guy, certainly intelligent enough to seize the moment when the World Wide Web was in its infancy. Lauren read yet another article and was surprised to discover John Giampalo was a University of Florida alumnus. Why she didn’t know that was beyond her, but in her opinion, it only added to his likability factor.

  Lauren bookmarked several web pages to peruse later when she wasn’t so dog tired. She still had to contact the newspapers in the surrounding towns and place the ads she’d discussed with Brent. Having the ability to do this at home—using the Internet was so easy—she completed the task in minutes. If she’d called, as her father would have done, she would have been on the phone forever making sure the ads were correct. And she could not have done it until the morning. Why he couldn’t bring his life and her mother’s into this century continued to baffle her. Lauren would try to convince him this truly was the way of the future, but not now. She was completely wiped out. Slipping into a pair of flannel pajamas, she slid beneath the covers and was asleep within minutes.

  Chapter 10

  Lauren couldn’t believe what a good night’s sleep could do for one’s disposition. She’d gone to bed a bit ticked at her father’s stubbornness and her mother’s willingness to play along.

  But it was a new day, and she decided that she would keep the details of her newly acquired contract to herself. Angela had sent her a copy of the book contract late last night, and she’d read through it this morning while she lingered in bed. Though it was so common in most households, she decided against revealing she had access to the Internet at home. That old saying “What you don’t know, won’t hurt you” could be applied in this case.

  Lauren closed her laptop and quickly made up the bed. Twenty minutes later, she was showered, dressed, and sipping a cup of tea in the kitchen. Her parents were still sleeping. She enjoyed the early-morning quiet, the privacy, and was having second thoughts about continuing to live in the house. She could stay in the guest cottage, though it would require a few repairs; she would mention it to her mother later, when they decided to act like grown-ups instead of ten-year-olds. Or not. But then she’d be acting like a kid herself. That would be silly, and she laughed at the pure childishness of her thoughts.

  “Somebody’s in a good mood,” her mother said, entering the kitchen.

  “Mom, you’re up early,” Lauren commented. “Dad okay?”

  “I let him sleep in; he needs his rest.”

  Lauren placed a pod of her mother’s favorite Dunkin’ Donuts coffee in the Keurig—the sole twenty-first-century item to be found in the house, only tolerated because Lauren had insisted on having one when she had come home three years ago—then clicked the BREW button. As soon as the cup finished, she held the cup out to her mother. “No cream or sugar, right?”

  “Watching my waistline, dear. Thank you.” Her mother was wearing the same yellow chenille robe she’d had since Lauren was a little girl. The bend in the elbows had thinned, and the belt she wrapped around her waist was not much more than a few strands of material struggling to stay together.

  Definitely time for a new robe. Lauren would order her one for Christmas. And she’d use the Internet. A flash of humor crossed her face.

  “What are you smiling about?” her mother asked. “You didn’t seem too happy last night.”

  Lauren sat in the chair across from her mother. “And you know why, too. What I don’t understand is why you didn’t back me up, at least tell Dad to listen to what I had to say. I felt a little blindsided, if you want to know the truth.” She took a sip of her tea.

  “No, that was not my intention. I’m sorry. Your father was so hyped up over the weather, I just didn’t want to upset him more than necessary. He’s been so touchy lately.”

  “Mother, you’re just putting off the inevitable by treating him like an invalid. First of all, he’s not mentally encumbered in any way, at least none that I know of. He can either accept what I’m going to do for John Giampalo or not. It’s his choice. And while we’re speaking of choices, I think it’s time I told you that the sales on Black Friday weekend weren’t that good. I placed a few ads in the papers last night, but I’m not sure if they’ll help at this point.” Lauren took another drink of tea. Now was the time to tell her mother the cold, hard facts. Before her father joined them. “Yesterday, I called my financial adviser. I asked him to deposit enough money in Razzle Dazzle’s account to keep us going for a couple of months. If Dad doesn’t make the leap into the twenty-first century, there isn’t going to be a lot of hope for the store’s future.”

  “But I thought you said the sales were decent.”

  “We sold all of Jenny Farrow’s pieces to one couple. Had it not been for that, we would’ve barely covered the commissions on a couple of your crafters’ sales.” She knew it was not what her mother wanted to hear, but she didn’t see much point in putting off telling her the truth any longer. She was bound to see the bank statements; most likely, they’d arrive in today’s mail.

  Lauren’s heart saddened at the expression on her mother’s face, hating that she’d had to be so real, so blunt with her. This living in the past had to stop, and new attitudes might as well start immediately, with her new writing contract. They couldn’t remain in the dark forever. “All you have to do is take a close look at the bank statements, Mom. While we’re not in debt, thank goodness, we aren’t making much profit in the store. Again, if you and Dad would consider adding a website for Razzle Dazzle, I wouldn’t be surprised if sales for the month of December would carry us throughout the year. You both have to open your eyes and see what’s really happening in the world today.” Lauren went to the sink, rinsed her mug out, and placed it in the dishwasher.

  “I can see exactly what is happening,” her father said, entering the kitchen. He was fully showered, shaved, and dressed. The scent of Prell shampoo clung to his damp hair, and the faintest odor of a new cologne wafted off him.

  “Dad,” Lauren said.

  “Lauren,” he returned, his voice matter-of-fact.

  Her mother hurried to make a cup of coffee for her husband. “Al, sit down. Lauren wants to talk to you. I’m not going to play referee, either.”

  “Good morning to you too, Ilene,” her father said, in what Lauren thought of as his king-of-the-castle tone of voice. He sat in his usual place, and Lauren saw no sign that his movements were a struggle. Maybe today was going to be one of his better days.

  Her mother placed the coffee in front of him. “I’m going upstairs to shower. You two can help yourselves to cereal or whatever you want.”

  Lauren couldn’t help but laugh. This was her mother’s way of telling her dad to “deal with it or else,” without actually saying the words. There had been a few episodes like this when she was a teenager. Times changed. She was not going to play along with their childlike games.

  “I’m not having breakfast,” Lauren said. “You need help with yours?” This was the least she could do. He was, after all, on many days unable to do much of anything other than sit down.

  “I am perfectly capable of making my own bowl of cereal, Lauren,” he said. “I’ll eat in a bit.” He sipped at his coffee, his gaze appearing to be a million miles away.

  “Look, Dad, I know you’re upset with me. About the book. But I can’t pass up this opportunity. It would be foolish of me. And of you to think I shouldn’t take it.”

  “I haven’t said anything about this to you, so why do you assume that I’m against it?” He directed his gaze to hers.

  “Last night. You didn’t acknowledge what we both know you’re trying to avoid. You let Mom make a fool of herself, and I think you’d at least be a little bit remorseful about that.”

  “I suppose I deserve that,” he said. “I didn’t want to discuss this man last night, and frankly, it isn’t something I want to talk about now. Lauren, you do what you must, and that’s all I’ll say. Now, if you’ll grab me that carton of milk, I’m going to fix myself a bowl of cereal.”

  Stunned, it took her a minute to absorb what he had said. “As you said, you’re ‘perfectly capable of making your own bowl of cereal.’ I won’t stand in your way,” Lauren stated before sailing out of the kitchen and heading upstairs. She didn’t ever recall a time, at least since she’d returned to Fallen Springs as an adult, when she’d had any major disagreement with her parents. Or at least one that was so divisive, pitting her against them. Or her against her father. Both of them would have to learn to live with the decisions she made for herself. And if they didn’t climb out of the past, they were going to lose a lot more than an argument with her. They’d lose a family legacy when Razzle Dazzle Décor fell headlong into bankruptcy. Even though she would do whatever she had to in order to prevent that from happening.

  Chapter 11

  Lauren was glad she’d caught Maggie on her way out. She’d been so irked earlier this morning, she had forgotten to call her to tell her she wouldn’t have to work at the shop today. She was thankful that she had remembered as soon as she’d unlocked the back door. With her flight canceled, there was no reason for Lauren to stay at home while someone else worked. Now that she could set up a Wi-Fi connection to use at the store, she could just as easily do her research between customers. If they were lucky enough to have any.

  In her office, settled in, Lauren had read through dozens of articles on John Giampalo when her stomach reminded her of the time.

  She’d been in such a rush this morning, she hadn’t bothered to bring anything for lunch, so she called over to Ruby’s Diner and placed an order. She hadn’t eaten dinner last night, only that gingerbread cookie at Beth’s and half a slice of pecan pie, and she was famished. Glancing at the clock, Lauren hurried to the front of the store, placed her OUT TO LUNCH sign in the window, exited through the front door, and raced down King Street, covering the two blocks to Ruby’s in record time. The midmorning air cut right through the heavy wool sweater she wore. As she picked up her pace, she felt silly for not taking an extra minute to put on her jacket. The sharp icy air stung her cheeks, and the gusty wind sent her long, blond hair dancing around her shoulders. She managed to gather a handful, smoothing it down as she stepped inside Ruby’s. Lauren smelled the famous yeast rolls and smiled. She’d ordered the lunch special, no clue what Tuesday’s was, but she knew that whatever it was, it would include those soft, buttery yeast rolls that practically melted in her mouth. She found a seat at the counter while she waited for her order.

  “I thought you wanted this to go,” Ruby called out from the kitchen. At almost noon, the place was practically empty, but Lauren knew that in ten minutes, the place would be packed with diners from many of the local businesses.

  “I’ll eat it here today,” she said, suddenly changing her mind. She hadn’t had a single customer all morning, and she needed a change of scenery.

  “Gotcha,” Ruby called to her. “Two minutes.”

  “No hurry,” she replied.

  Ruby came bursting out through the kitchen’s double doors, a plate in each hand. She placed them on the counter. “Tuesday’s special. You let me know what you think,” Ruby said before returning to her kitchen.

  Macaroni and cheese, with chunks of ham, a large portion of green beans, a freshly made salad, and, of course, three yeast rolls. Lauren wouldn’t be able to zip her jeans if she ate all the food, but she was hungry and was going to give it her best.

  Each bite tasted divine, and each warm, buttered roll practically slid down her throat. Eating at Ruby’s was heavenly. It was a good thing she didn’t eat here often or she’d be in big trouble. A couple of times a week was more than enough. “Ruby, you’re the best. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted mac and cheese like yours.”

  “Nope, you haven’t. It’s an old family recipe, and Louise and me are takin’ it to our graves,” she called out from behind the counter. “Glad you approve. You want to take some home for your mom and dad? I’ve made enough to feed the entire town.”

  “No, thanks, I think they’re starting to watch what they eat for the next few weeks, just so they can consume all the goodies Mom will bake, but I’ll tell her you offered. Gotta run. I’ll see you later,” Lauren said. She left a ten-dollar bill under her plate and left just in time to see the lunch crowd gathering outside the diner. She hurried the two blocks to Razzle Dazzle, crossing her fingers that she’d have a few customers this afternoon. Entering through the back door, Lauren walked to the front of the store, removed her OUT TO LUNCH sign, and unlocked the door.

  When she’d left for lunch earlier, a big gust of wind had blown in, causing some of the ornaments on the tree in the window to get tossed around. She made a few adjustments to a delicate glass star and a handblown, tree-shaped ornament before returning to the office to continue her research on Globalgoods.com. As far as she could tell, this man who’d changed the way most of the world shopped was truly a generous, kind man, though she would wait until she met him in person before she made up her mind. Anyone can look good on paper. Lauren had good instincts, and she trusted them. Rarely had they been wrong.

  The little bell she’d hung at the entrance chimed, letting her know she finally had a customer. She hurried out of the office to greet her lone visitor.

  “Madison, what in the world are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be teaching great things to all those little minds?” Lauren gave her a hug.

  “Today was a half day. Yesterday, the high school and middle school had their turn, so here I am. I thought I’d check on you, see if you learned anything more from James, plus Scott told me he saw you at the store last night. Said you looked ‘distressed,’ though I’m not sure in what context. Things okay with your parents?”

  Lauren sighed. “Let’s go in the office. I’ll make us a cup of tea and fill you in.”

  “Sounds good,” Madison said.

  Lauren put her glass kettle in the microwave and took two clean mugs, dropping a black tea bag in each. “Dad’s fine physically, Mom’s good, but I swear I had the craziest falling-out of sorts with them last night, and it continued this morning.” She filled the cups with boiling water, added sugar for Madison, and handed her the tea.

  “How so?” Madison asked, seating herself on the sagging sofa.

  Lauren sat beside her. “How long do you have?” She laughed. “Seriously, the past twenty-four hours have been crazy. I was going to tell you, but I haven’t had a chance. I got an e-mail from Angela yesterday—you know, my agent?”

  “The one from New York.”

  “The one and only.” She blew on her tea to cool it off. “She has a new contract, another biography, and you will never guess who the subject is.”

  “Okay, so you want me to drag it out of you? That means it’s a goodie. Okay, first guess: Brad Pitt?”

  “Not even close,” Lauren said.

  “Okay, Chris Hemsworth?”

  “I wish, but nope. Way too cold.”

  “Let’s see. Hmm, George Clooney? No, he’s too old, never mind. I think Brad Pitt is old, too. A little bit.”

  “I don’t write bios of movie stars.”

  “Hey, a girl can hope, right?”

  “I suppose. I’ll give you one more guess, and that’s it.”

  “Has to be someone in the business world.” Madison drummed her perfectly shaped nails against her mug. “I give up. I can’t think of anyone worthy enough,” she said.

  “I was shocked myself, so I know you will be, too. John Gerard Giampalo.”

  Lauren observed her best friend, curious how she’d respond.

 

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