Our Star-Crossed Kiss (The Rooftop Crew #4) - Piper Rayne Page 0,12
to bring my products in at noon today, which means I had to ask Elsie to come in again. So I chose to tell my mom. She’ll eventually be the one to sign the papers since she’s one of the rightful owners of the shop.
“Hey, sweetie, how is everything?” Mom rushes in and heads to the back, where she washes her hands.
“Good. A slower-than-normal morning.”
“Oh really? I wonder why?” Her dark curly hair, not unlike mine, doesn’t look as though it’s been brushed and it has a slight frizz today. She cut hers to shoulder-length since she doesn’t have the time to actually style it.
As usual, her full attention isn’t on anything I’m saying because she believes I have it all under control. That I’m the child she doesn’t need to worry about, the one she can rely on if she needs to.
“I’m not sure.” I stand in the doorway between the kitchen and the counter, unsure how to bring up what I did. I took a chance and so far it’s panning out, but she might think that what I’m doing is wrong because she knows my dad won’t agree. He’ll be here in an hour or so after he’s done his cardio physical therapy. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
She dries her hands and rests her hip on the sink, looking me over. Her wide eyes fill with worry. “What’s wrong?”
That’s the aftermath of when a horrible thing happens. Your first thought when someone says they want to talk is that it’s bad news. First it was my dad’s heart attack. Then the surgery. Then the rehab. And he’s still not back to where he was. The business stresses him out, so we agreed that I’d take over the day-to-day and he’d help out where he could. Which is why I need to make this place more profitable. Profitable enough to hire outside help so my parents can live off the income it generates without the stress of managing it.
“Nothing’s wrong. But… can we sit?”
She huffs. “I have to make the cream cheese for Scrumptuals.”
“I did it already,” I say.
Her eyes light up. “You did?”
“I told you it was slow.”
A soft, gracious smile lands on her lips. “Thank you, sweetie.”
“You’re welcome.”
For a moment, we’re not manager and owner—as it often feels these days—we’re mother and daughter again.
She grabs a cup and swings her arm around my shoulders, leading us to the front of the shop. “Let’s sit.”
I sit in the first booth, which is more or less our family’s. Eli does his homework here, Elsie whines, my dad reads the newspaper. My mom and I might be the only two in our family who don’t sit in it.
Once she fills her cup with some soda, she sits across from me. “What’s up?”
“Did you hear about the Food Channel’s auditions at the mercantile mart?”
She shakes her head. I’m not surprised. My mom is busy and doesn’t really have time for much outside of the business, my brother, and my dad.
“Well, the Food Channel is filming in Cliffton Heights for Nick Klein’s show, Tastes of Small Towns?” I wait to see if the show name sparks any recognition.
My mom sips her soda and shakes her head.
“Well, I… um… I went down yesterday to audition.”
“That’s why you had Elsie come in?”
I nod. “We were chosen to come in today for them to sample our products. If they like them, we’ll probably make it onto the show.”
She continues to sip her drink for a moment. My anxiety skyrockets, worried about her reaction. It’ll come down on one of two sides—that it’s good for the business or that dad won’t like a bunch of strangers and a production crew up in our business.
“What happens if we’re chosen?” she asks.
I shrug. “I think they come here, film, and say how good our food is. Maybe they choose a specialty item. Then it airs on television.”
She thinks it over for a moment. “Okay.”
“That’s it?”
She smiles. “It sounds like a good opportunity. We’ll just wait to tell your dad until it’s for sure. No need to put that stress on him until it’s certain.”
Guilt pinches my chest at the thought of causing my dad undo stress. “You’re not mad I went behind your back?”
She pats my hand. “Sweetie, this is your future. I can’t be mad for you wanting to make it a success.”
My gaze deviates out the window.
My future.
A bagel shop.
Yippee.
“But you know it will be a tough sell to your dad, so