“Oh, Wendy. You made it,” Dahlia said.

“Sorry, the door was open. Should I come back later to see the apartment?”

“No, come in, you’re fine. I thought you were a customer.” She motioned for Wendy to enter.

She breezed in through the door and embraced her, a cloud of flowery perfume following in her wake. “Oh good, I was hoping you’d be here. I lost your phone number, so I couldn’t call when I left Haven Shores. I’m so glad to see you and be here. Candle Beach is such a beautiful town.” She beamed at Dahlia. She’d piled her red hair into a ponytail and looked even younger than the day before. “Where should I park the truck to unload my stuff?”

“The truck?” She looked through the open front door at the white panel truck parked outside the bookstore. It took up two parking spaces and stuck out into the street. A car honked as it swerved around the truck’s back end. Parking for a large truck hadn’t come up in their brief rental discussion. Why hadn’t it occurred to her that Wendy would have a truck to transport her furniture? Delivery trucks didn’t usually stick around town after dropping off their loads and finding parking in downtown Candle Beach for the oversized vehicle would be tricky.

“Uh, you can pull it around to the alley to unload,” Dahlia said. “I’ll go open the back door.” They’d deal with the parking issue later.

“Thanks!” Wendy bounced out of the bookstore, her ponytail bobbing behind her. Dahlia hoped she’d have half of her energy when she reached that age.

In a few minutes, Wendy had the truck parked next to the bookstore in the back alley. Dahlia watched as she exited the vehicle, pulled open the back of the truck and lowered the ramp.

“Do you need help?”

“That would be great,” Wendy said. “Your sofa weighs a ton. They don’t make furniture nowadays like they used to.”

The two women edged the sofa out of the truck and into the store using a furniture dolly and a lot of elbow grease. Wendy moved the stool Dahlia had used earlier out of the way and lined the sofa up perpendicular to the two existing armchairs.

“It’s beautiful,” Dahlia said. The emerald-green velvet sofa lit up the bookstore and provided the charm she’d hoped for. Painful slivers twisted in her chest. Someone else would get to enjoy the sofa. Would the new owner keep it in the store?

Wendy brushed her hands off and looked around. “Quite a place you have here. I see you’ve been doing some painting.” She motioned to the wall Dahlia had painted Friday night.

“Yeah, I wanted to add some color in here.”

“I think it’s fabulous. This place will look great when you’re done.”

She smiled, but her heart wasn’t in it. How was she going to tell Wendy that she wouldn’t be around to see the completion of the remodel?

“Let me show you to the upstairs apartment.” Dahlia led the way to the back staircase and they ascended the steep stairs.

“Oh my, it’s nicer than I expected.” Wendy immediately ran over to the open window to check out the view. “I can see the ocean from here.” Wendy hugged Dahlia. “I love it!”

She twirled around and clapped her hands like a child. She strode from room to room, the smile on her face growing wider with each step.

“I knew it was fate when we met,” she exclaimed. She hugged Dahlia again. It should have been odd to be hugged by a stranger, but it felt natural coming from Wendy. Her exuberance was contagious.

“Do you have a lot to carry in?” Dahlia asked.

“Not too much. I try to travel light. Then I’m free to go wherever I want.” They went down the stairs and out to her truck. Wendy grabbed a few bags from the truck and deposited them in the back storeroom.

“Where should I park the truck now that I’m done unloading?” Wendy asked.

Dahlia assessed the options. “There’s a small parking lot across the street. Your truck should fit there.”

Late on a Sunday afternoon, most of the day tourists would be on their way home, leaving parking spaces available. She crossed her fingers. Wendy thanked her and hopped in her vehicle.

Dahlia’s good mood faded after Wendy left and she remembered her predicament. She entered the office and sat down in Ruth’s chair. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed Agnes.

“Hello, this is Agnes.”

Dahlia’s spine straightened, as if ready to be scolded by a teacher. She couldn’t say anything.

“Hello?” Agnes said again.

“It’s Dahlia.” She paused. How was she going to tell Agnes about Wendy? Finally, she blurted out, “I rented the apartment in trade for some furniture. The new tenant, Wendy, moves in today. She’s really nice.” There was no response from Agnes.

“Uh, she moves out at the end of September. Then you can do whatever you want with the space.”

“I see,” Agnes said. “I take it you still plan to abandon the bookstore Ruth left you? You know, she thought it would mean something to you.”

What, so now Agnes thought she should stay? The woman confounded her. Dahlia’s blood had reached boiling point.

“I’m leaving because you’ve straitjacketed me. I can’t improve the bookstore, and without improvements, I can’t compete with the Book Warehouse in Haven Shores. If you hadn’t noticed from the financial reports, sales are down since the mega bookstore opened last month.”

“Dahlia, I think—”

“You can disapprove of me all you want, but I’m leaving tomorrow. I hope you can make the bookstore successful.” She hung up. She truly did wish for the bookstore to regain profitability. Ruth would have wanted that. But enough was enough. Agnes couldn’t control her anymore.

Behind her, the back door clicked open as Wendy let herself in. She climbed the stairs with her two bags, her luggage knocking against the walls with every step.

“Let me know if you need anything,” Dahlia called out to her.

“I will. Thanks again.” The door at the top of the stairs banged shut.

Her residual anger toward Agnes made the office walls feel like they were closing in on her. She placed a key and a note for Wendy at the foot of the stairs, grabbed a sketchpad and left the store, locking the front door behind her.

Unlike the rainy day before, the weather was sunny and warm, a perfect July day. Dahlia passed through the middle of town on her way down the hill to the beach access, but didn’t allow her thoughts to dwell on any part of the town. She paused for a moment at the overlook. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she’d stopped there and gazed at Candle Beach in the distance. And longer than that since she’d met Garrett. She shook her head to clear away any lingering thoughts of him and descended the stairs to the beach below.

The tide was out and she had to walk several hundred feet from the base of the stairs to the compacted wet sand. On impulse, she pulled off her sandals and flung them up to dry ground. She rolled the cuffs of her Capri pants up above her knees and sprinted into the water.

The freezing water rushed against her ankles and shins, splashing droplets onto her pants. The warm sun beat down on her as she waded in the shallows. Pebbles swirled around her bare toes as the waves flowed in and out.

Things had to get better, right? She’d find a job in Seattle and an apartment. Anything had to be an improvement over the place she’d lived in before moving to Candle Beach.

Near the creek that came off of Bluebonnet Lake, a small child ran amongst the waves, chasing a golden retriever. The girl’s giggles carried over the roar of the ocean. Had she ever been as carefree as that child? She’d always prided herself on being a free spirit, but had she ever truly been free?

Although she didn’t like to admit it, she’d always been chained to a job, an apartment, or a relationship that didn’t bring her joy. Being in Candle Beach made her happy. She sat down in the dry sand and raised her face to the sun, basking in its warmth. Grabbing her sketchpad, she quickly drew the little girl, but couldn’t quite capture her carefree attitude. She dropped the pen and paper to the ground and lay back to relax against the firm sand.

With the sand cradling her in its comforting embrace, her mind wandered to To Be Read. It was a pity that all her hard work would go to waste. There was still so much to do at the bookstore. But it wasn’t her problem anymore. After the store sold, she’d be lying on a beach on the French Riviera instead of on the Washington Coast.

As much as she wanted to enjoy daydreaming about the future, she found herself dwelling on the store. Darn it! She’d forgotten to move a new carton of books out of the storage area to the ‘to be shelved’ area. The books would be mixed in with the old books and not be available for customers to buy.

She tried to push the thought out of her mind, but the concern over the buried books ricocheted around her brain until she had to act. She sat up, brushed the sand off her body, and retrieved her sandals. Being responsible wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

When she arrived at the bookstore, she unlocked the front door and stepped inside. Two women’s voices drifted down the stairwell from the upstairs apartment. She tiptoed up the stairs and stopped at the top to listen. One of the voices was Wendy’s. The other was even more familiar. At the sound of the other voice, tension spiraled up through her muscles, super-charging her nerve endings. She pushed the apartment door open.

* * *

“What are you doing here?” Dahlia leaned against the doorframe and folded her arms against her chest.

The women sat at the kitchen table, her mother with her back to the door. At the sound of Dahlia’s voice, Vanessa turned around and smiled at her daughter.

“Dahlia,” she said. “I’m glad to see you.” She’d traded one of her many power suits for a matching turquoise yoga pants and jacket set. Her ensemble would allow her to blend in well with the tourist crowd.

Why was her mother in Candle Beach? Vanessa hadn’t set foot in town since Aunt Ruth died. She’d talked about taking some vacation time over the summer, but a big opportunity had come up at work and she couldn’t take the time off. Now she was suddenly in town?

Dahlia thought she knew why.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” Wendy gestured at the two teacups on the table. “I picked up some muffins from the Bluebonnet Café too. They look delicious.” She held out a blueberry muffin sprinkled with chunky sugar crystals.

Dahlia’s stomach rumbled. “No thank you,” she said to Wendy, and turned to face the other woman. “Mom, what are you doing here?” Her eyes drilled holes into her mother’s face as she fought to control her speech.

“I came to see you,” said Vanessa. “Let’s go downstairs.” She nodded at Wendy. “Thank you for the drink and chat. It was nice to meet you.”

Wendy smiled back at her and stood to clear the table.

Vanessa and Dahlia walked down the stairs in silence. At the foot of the stairs, Dahlia turned to her and asked again in a hushed whisper, “Mother, why are you here?”

“A little birdie told me you planned to leave Candle Beach and sell the bookstore.” Vanessa regarded her daughter shrewdly. “Is that true?”

Dahlia’s shoulders slumped. How had she heard about this already? She hadn’t planned to say anything until she was back in Seattle with another failure on the books. The long arms of the Candle Beach town gossip machine reached further than she had expected.

“Yes,” Dahlia said. “I’m leaving town.”

“But honey, you sounded so happy when we spoke on the phone yesterday. What happened?”

“Agnes happened.”

Her mother shot her a quizzical look. “Agnes Barnes? What does she have to do with it?”

“She won’t loan me the money to remodel the bookstore,” said Dahlia. She picked up a stray book off a box and put it in a pile with some others to be shelved. “I don’t have any savings to draw from and the monthly stipend from Aunt Ruth’s trust isn’t enough to cover everything I want to do. Without the trust money, I’m stuck. The way things are currently, the bookstore can’t compete with the big box and online stores. My only hope was to create an inviting space for the community and cross my fingers that doing so brought in sales.”

“Okay,” her mother said slowly. “So Agnes wouldn’t give you the money. Did you think of any other options? Maybe scale back plans?”

She took Vanessa’s hand and led her into the main bookstore. She pointed at the area where she had planned to build the espresso bar. “Look, that’s where the espresso bar would go. And over there—the children’s area. And a new seating area here.” Her enthusiasm built as she detailed her plans.

She flopped onto the new velvet couch and ran her hands over the softness of the material. “I bought this from Wendy. Didn’t she do a beautiful job reupholstering it?”

Her mother smiled and took a seat next to Dahlia. “She mentioned she worked on furniture, but she didn’t say anything about this piece. It does seem to brighten up the bookstore.”

“Not that it matters anymore.” Dahlia leaned against the side of the sofa. “Do you understand now? This place needs some major work. Without it, To Be Read is going to go under—sooner rather than later. I don’t see any way around it.”

“You could have asked your father or me for a loan.”

“I didn’t want to ask you for money. I’m an adult. I shouldn’t have to beg my parents for money.”

“So instead you’re running away from your responsibilities like a child.”

“That’s not what I’m doing.” Dahlia stood and paced the seating area. “You know it’s not.”

“Well, from my point of view, that’s exactly what you’re doing,” Vanessa said. “Things have gotten tough and you want to take the easy way out.”

“I want to take my half of the settlement from the bookstore and Aunt Ruth’s house and travel around the world. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do. I’m not running away from Candle Beach or my problems, I’m following my dreams.”

“You worked at a travel agency for years and you never took a vacation,” her mother said wryly. “That indicates that travel isn’t a huge priority of yours.”

“That’s not fair. I didn’t have money to travel.”

“If it was important enough, you would have found a way to make it happen.” Vanessa’s eyes met hers. “Look, you’ve been following this pattern for your whole life. When things get difficult, you run away and leave your problems behind. You changed your college major four times because you didn’t like what you had to do to graduate. You’ve worked countless jobs since you finally received your diploma.” She paused, then said in a low voice, “When your marriage got too difficult, you didn’t go to counseling or work on your relationship. You left at the first chance you had.”

“You should talk. Your relationship with Dad during the divorce made me miserable,” Dahlia said. “Why do you think I run? You were always fighting. Coming to Candle Beach for the summer was the only chance I had to get away from it.”

“I admit your father and I didn’t handle our divorce as well as possible. We were too focused on ourselves and not on you and how our fighting affected you. We thought sending you to Aunt Ruth in Candle Beach was the best thing for you.” Vanessa stared at the floor for a moment and then gazed up at Dahlia. Tears glistened in her eyes. “I’m truly sorry we hurt you.”

Dahlia was quiet for a moment. She knew her parents’ divorce had been difficult for her, but until this moment, she hadn’t realized how much it had affected her in childhood and into adulthood. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me,” she acknowledged softly and offered a small smile.

Vanessa wrapped her arms around her. “I’m so sorry.” She repeated and patted her back, just as she had when she’d been a child.

Dahlia relaxed against her and sighed. It had been a long time since they’d had a close mother–daughter moment.

After a minute, Vanessa pulled away and held her at arm’s length. “So what do we do about the bookstore?” she asked. “Aunt Ruth wanted you to have it. We had many long conversations about you and to be honest, she was worried about the trajectory of your life. She thought this was the best thing for you—a chance to be a business owner and have a life of your own here in Candle Beach.”

“Aunt Ruth was worried about me? I wasn’t a last resort for her?”

Dahlia knew her mom had spent quite a bit of time with Aunt Ruth before her death, but she’d never really considered that they may have conspired together to leave her the bookstore.

“No honey, she wanted you to have it.” Vanessa hugged Dahlia again. “So what do you think? Do you want to be a small-town bookstore owner?”

Did she? She wasn’t sure. Her mother had been correct in her assessment of her tendency to run when things grew tough. Was her dream to travel another excuse? Or was it her true passion?

She looked around the bookstore and something bubbled up inside of her. Owning the bookstore had incited a feeling inside of her that she had never experienced before. Maybe a sense of pride, but definitely excitement for the future.

“So what do you suggest I do?”

“How much money do you think you need?”

She showed her mother the financials and her plans for the bookstore.

“You’ve put a lot of effort into this,” she said, with a hint of surprise.

Dahlia shrugged. “I didn’t want to be unprepared when I asked Agnes for the money.”

Vanessa pulled out her checkbook and scribbled on a check. “Here you go,” she said, handing it to Dahlia.

Dahlia hesitated for a moment. “This is more than I need.”

“Remodeling costs have a way of exceeding the best of estimates. Remember my weekend patio project that turned into a full backyard remodel?”

She grinned. Her mother’s projects had a tendency to explode in scope. “When do I need to pay it back?”

“You can pay it back if you’d like, but consider it a gift. I want to see the bookstore and you succeed just as much as you do.” Vanessa smiled. “Remember, I grew up with Aunt Ruth and Uncle Ed. I know how important this place was to them. It was part of my childhood after my parents died and I came to live with them in Candle Beach, the same as it was a refuge for you when your father and I divorced.”

Dahlia took the check and put it in her pants pocket. “Thank you, Mom. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Vanessa put her arm around her waist and pulled her close. “I’m hungry. That was a long drive and I haven’t had anything today except Wendy’s tea and a blueberry muffin. The Bluebonnet Café?”

“Sounds great. I’m famished too,” she said. “Ooh, and you’ve got to try the new shrimp risotto special. Maggie’s been trying out new recipes to attract the summer tourists.”

“Sold. I’m a sucker for anything with shrimp.” Vanessa followed her out the door.

As Dahlia navigated the few blocks to the Bluebonnet Café on autopilot, she mentally assessed her to-do list. If she wasn’t going to leave town, she needed to make the bookstore profitable. Contacting Garrett occupied the top spot on her list. She planned to take him up on his offer to help promote the bookstore. Their last encounter had been awkward, but he was her best chance at success.

Making a go of To Be Read wouldn’t be easy, but she knew she could do it. Now that she didn’t need Agnes’s money, things would run smoother. With that thought in mind, she pushed open the door of the Bluebonnet Café and held it open for Vanessa, determined to not let thoughts of Agnes interfere with a rare dinner alone with her mother.