Moira headed around to the back of the home, spotting her mom sitting in her deck furniture. Her mom’s backyard was beautiful. Since Moira’s dad had retired, he’d taken to transforming the yard into a small slice of heaven on earth with his gardening. Everything was abloom for spring and rich in color.
“Dad has really outdone himself, hasn’t he?” Moira asked, climbing the steps and taking a seat next to her mom.
Darla glanced over. “I love seeing him discover new things that he’s passionate about. Has he told you he’s going to take a beer-making class?”
Moira laughed. “Dad doesn’t even drink, does he?”
“He likes a taste here and there.” Darla shrugged and continued looking out on the backyard, her expression slowly wilting.
“Mom,” Moira said, reaching to take her mom’s hand, “I heard about the town’s decision to move Sweetie’s and make a parking lot in that location instead. It’s despicable. I can’t even fathom what the town council is thinking.”
Darla released an audible breath. “They’re thinking about what the town desperately needs. Downtown parking has been an issue for as long as I can remember.”
“Sweetie’s Bakeshop has been a staple for as long as I can remember,” Moira said softly. “It’s not right, and I won’t sit around while your life’s work is demolished.”
Darla looked at her now. There was something so sad in her eyes. It broke Moira’s heart. Her mother was always smiling. She was one of the happiest people Moira knew, even during the times when her life had seemed like it was crashing around her. Like when Moira’s father had cancer. And like now.
“I don’t want to see that happen either, but what can I do? I don’t own the building anymore.”
Moira really wished her mom had never sold it. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time though. “When you sold it, you were promised that you could stay. We can fight this in court.”
“With what money?” Darla’s red hair caught the sunlight as she shook her head.
“We know lawyers, Mom. Jake Fletcher is a lawyer. Maybe he’d do it pro bono.” Gil Ryan was a lawyer, too, although he wasn’t practicing anymore. His dad still was, but there was no way Tony Ryan would take on a fight against the town and its mayor, who just happened to be his own son.
“I’m not going to ask for charity. Jake is busy. He and Trisha are expecting their first baby, and he’s working and running the Somerset Rental Cottages. No.” Darla lifted a stubborn chin. “Sometimes life gives you lemons, Mo.”
“And you just have to make lemonade with them.” Moira had been listening to her mom say that phrase all her life. It was usually when Moira had been going through some sort of drama at school or work. “Well, I’m making lemonade by fighting those lemons and turning this plan to demolish Sweetie’s around.”
“No,” Darla said forcefully. “As much as it breaks my heart, I love this town. What’s best for one shouldn’t outweigh what’s best for all. If a parking lot will make our downtown more accessible and safer, then that’s what should happen. I can find a new location for Sweetie’s.”
“Where?” Moira asked. “It wouldn’t be on Hannigan Street. People love your bakery and café, but they won’t go out of their way to get there. They might at first, but then they’ll stop because location is important for your business too. Then what, Mom?”
Darla fidgeted with her hands the same way that Moira did when she was nervous. Darla’s hands were cracked and wrinkled, effects of years using them to make pastries, pies, and breads. It wasn’t fair that she’d given so much of herself and would have to watch it disappear. “I went to the diner on Good Luck Avenue earlier this afternoon,” she said quietly. “Angela is a good friend of mine. She always has been.”
“Okay?” Moira wasn’t sure what this had to do with anything.
“Her business has been struggling for a while now. Truth be told, I’ve always kind of thought she resented me a little bit for taking some of her business away when we opened the café part of Sweetie’s.”
Moira shook her head. “There’s more than enough business for both of you.”
“In theory.” Darla nodded. “She’s stopped serving breakfast to save on costs because the café has taken her morning crowd. I didn’t tell her about the town’s plans for Sweetie’s, but I can’t help but think she’d be happy to see me move somewhere else.”
“Then she’s not a good friend,” Moira said.
Darla chuckled. “All’s fair in friendship and business.”
“You mean in love and war. And that’s a complete lie.” Moira blew out a breath. “What if we create a petition for people to sign in support of saving Sweetie’s? You can have your customers sign it when they come in. I’ll get people to sign it too. I’ll go door to door if I have to. I’m sure Tess would put a petition out in Lakeside Books.” Moira’s excitement and determination gained momentum as she talked. She hadn’t considered this idea yet, but it just might work.
Darla reached over and laid a hand over Moira’s. “Sweetie, I appreciate the sentiment, I really do, but I want you to stop right there. As much as it breaks my heart, I’m not fighting this decision. And I don’t want you to either.”
* * *
Later that night, Moira lay in bed staring up at the ceiling, mulling over her mom’s words. She was disappointed that her mom wasn’t willing to go up against the town council when she was obviously brokenhearted about the prospect of Sweetie’s being uprooted from its current location. Darla would have to start over again, which seemed so unfair. While Moira’s father was enjoying retirement, her mom would be back at square one, reestablishing her customer base and creating a homey environment that would never replace what Sweetie’s currently had.
No. This can’t happen. Moira had heard her mom’s words tonight, but she didn’t believe for a moment that Darla meant them. How could she? Maybe she was tired after all these years of taking care of Moira and then Moira’s father when he got sick. Perhaps there was no fight left in Darla.
Well, Moira wasn’t tired. In fact, she was energized, fueled by frustration and anger and a need to protect what belonged to her family.
Moira blinked back hot tears as she stared up at her ceiling. It was time for sleep, but she wasn’t tired at all. On a sigh, she got up and walked into her kitchen to pour herself a glass of water. As she gulped it down, she began to construct a plan of action, eager for daylight so that she could fight hard enough for both her and her mom.
Chapter Seven
The following evening, Moira pulled her knees to her body as she sat on the leather couch in Lakeside Books.
Her friends had all arrived and were discussing how Trisha’s belly was so much larger than last Thursday. They weren’t wrong.
“This is the only time in my life that I won’t be offended by how much you-all are commenting on my stomach,” Trisha said, leaning forward awkwardly to get a piece of fudge off the coffee table.