My Beautiful Neighbor (The Greene Family #1) - Piper Rayne Page 0,16
I told her I’d broken up with Lincoln after college. He wasn’t the kind of man she envisions me marrying. FYI, that imaginary person lives in Connecticut and had the same upbringing I did—country club, private schools, and familial wealth. “Oh, thank heavens. Have you booked your flight home then?”
“No, I don’t know what I’m going to do. It seems weird to me that I’m left this building and now someone wants to buy it from me. Plus, I’m expected to just take some offer instead of seeing what it can get on the open market?”
“How much did they offer?” she asks.
“One hundred twenty-five thousand.”
“For a building in Smalltown, Alaska? Take it, Presley.”
I look around the small building and can admit to myself that I’m amazed someone would even offer that. I spot the same handwriting that was in my letter scribbled on patterns splayed out on the tables. The woman who grew me in her belly, the one I share DNA with, spent the majority of her time here.
“My God, you’re thinking about staying, aren’t you?” From her tone, you’d think I told her I preferred cotton over cashmere.
“No. I don’t know.”
“Presley, think about this. That town doesn’t want you. You’re a reminder of the secrets people hide in their closets.”
In Connecticut, no one would ever have told a soul about the child they gave up for adoption. Image is everything. So why is something drawing me to this place?
I say, “I haven’t decided. I just think that if I sell, I should get fair value.”
“Just take it and come home. You’re not going to find what you’re looking for there.”
“And what do you think I’m looking for?”
She blows out a breath. “I’m sure you’re curious as to who she was. When I adopted you, I wasn’t naïve enough to think you’d never want to meet her. But she’s passed on now. I’m afraid maybe her wanting you to take over this building is more for her other daughter than you.”
I lean my head into my palm, stretching out on the table. There’s no denying my mom has a point. But I feel freedom here. I’m not being pushed into the box my mom wants me in. This is somewhere I could spread my wings, for lack of a better term. Find out what I want in life, what I’m made of. And I’m not sure I can do that in Connecticut.
“Presley,” my mom says, “I’ll catch the first flight I can get. Help you navigate this and bring you home.”
It’s tempting, knowing that the people in this town might not want me here. Everything my mom is saying could very well be true.
I stand and go to the back of the building. There’s a desk there, set away from the rest of the store. From the calculator and bills on top, I’d say this is where she did the business side of things. I sit down and open the drawers, finding journals of sketches she designed in most of them. I open the last drawer and pick up a journal.
I allow Mom to carry on while I continue to be nosy. “I can fix this for you. Or you can come home and your father…”
A picture slides out of the journal and I catch it before it falls to the floor. It’s the same picture my mom showed me when she told me they adopted me—a typical newborn picture taken in the hospital and it’s of me. There’s no name on the back, but I know it’s me just the same. I scour the pages of the journal, hoping it was hers from when she gave me up and she anguished about whether she was making the right decision. Sadly, it’s just business plans.
The bell chimes and I stand, rounding the partition to the front of the store. My mom continues telling me all the options that involve me leaving this town and returning back to her.
“I gotta go, Mom,” I say.
“Presley.”
I click to end the call and look at the woman standing across the room, wondering what she wants to yell at me about now.
“Can we talk?” Clara asks like a scorned puppy with her tail between her legs.
Let’s hope this goes better than the first time.
After I drop Rylan at soccer, I head over to the brewery because this is my life. I’m either working or doing things with my family. Plus, the twenty-four-hour deadline I have from Nikki is on my mind.