Jane would miss her furry coworker today, but there was plenty to do and it was better the dog wouldn’t be underfoot. Jane knew her mother would be prepping the children’s room for the holidays, setting up special displays and putting out stashes of holiday favorites. After thirty-three years teaching kindergarten and first grade, the children’s room was her mother’s domain. Jane, on the other hand, spread her love of genre fiction and paper goods around the shop. Beautiful journals, pens, stationery, and cards drew in a lot of customers looking for unique gifts. There was a large selection of planners and calendars, and every week a group of women gathered in the common space to swap ideas and planner tricks. The shop carried all the big bestsellers, but Jane filled the shelves with her favorite mysteries, romances, historical novels, and memoirs.
Harbor Books was an institution in their little town. One of the oldest businesses on Main Street, there had been many changes since her grandfather opened his book and stationery shop during the Great Depression, but the Fallon family had adapted to each challenge.
Over the last twenty-five years, she’d brought the store to a new level—ironic because she’d never planned on owning the store, or making her life in Angel Harbor. But here she was, and as she faced a brand-new phase of her life, Jane wondered what was up next.
“Are all Tara’s college applications done? I know she had some early deadlines.”
“Finally,” Jane sighed. Her seventeen-year-old daughter had complained through every one of them, agonizing over each essay. But now that most of them were done, tensions had lessened in the household.
Tara had always been stubborn. Curious and determined, she hadn’t been easy to keep up with. Her daughter had shifting passions, jumping from one activity to the next. That all changed when she took a creative writing class at the beginning of her sophomore year. Like someone flipped a switch, it opened a whole new world for her daughter. Her talent—her passion—for the written word was the spark that moved her. She made good friends in the class—brilliant, creative kids like she was—and they brought her into the theater program, completely changing her trajectory. Jane’s appreciation for the arts—and for Tara’s gift—was rooted in her training in archeology. A civilization’s art and literature told the story of its people, providing a view of the past that was deeper than historical events could ever show on their own.
“She’s going to be fine, you know.” Her mother was the endless optimist. Her years in the classroom made her secure in her belief that her granddaughter would figure things out. Of course, in her mother’s eyes Tara could do no wrong, even when she was at her moodiest.
“I don’t know what she’s going to do with a writing degree, but what do I know?”
Mom chuckled. “The same thing you did with an archeology degree. She’ll find her way.”
That wasn’t very comforting. While working in Scotland as a researcher with a renowned archeologist, Jane got the call that her father, Mike Fallon, had died. The staff job that was supposed to launch her career, the PhD program she’d had her sights set on since she was a freshman undergraduate, were both mothballed. Her dad’s death pulled her home and it irrevocably changed her path.
Her friends, her career, her aspirations were gone. Jane had adjusted, pivoted into a new role, but there was always an inkling of regret.
She took up the mantle at the bookstore and moved back in with her mother, who was devastated by the loss of her husband. Eventually, Jane married badly, and divorced quickly. However, the bright light in all of it was Tara.
Once the baby came, there was no returning to her dream of traveling the world and learning about ancient civilizations, but she never doubted that her little girl was an amazing gift, and always would be. Difficult times and all, Tara was at the center of everything she did. Jane would never regret becoming a mother.
“You’re drifting,” her mother stated quietly. “Where’s that boat headed today?”
“Nowhere.” Jane shook off her wanderings with a smile. “I’m going to drift myself into the stockroom. I want to double-check my gift inventory.”
From the sidelong glance sent in Jane’s direction, her mother didn’t believe her. There was no reason she should. Her mom was many things, but clueless wasn’t one of them. She could always tell when the people she cared about were brushing off her concern. “Right,” Mom