Page 77 of Keeping it Local

“What did he say when he mentioned it?” I asked.

“That he wanted to rekindle an old flame.” She raised her eyebrows at me. “In more or less words.”

I rolled my eyes. “I told him that wasn’t going to happen.”

She chuckled. “He might have mentioned that.”

“What else did he mention?”

“That you were seeing someone else.” She raised her eyebrows. “And that a guy on stage was glaring daggers at him. Why didn’t you tell us? I’m assuming it was that Johnny? From the restaurant?”

I groaned. “It wasn’t anything serious. It didn’t seem worth mentioning.”

“Why on earth would you think that?”

I shook my head. “It didn’t seem worth mentioning that I was seeing someone else, even just for the summer. I know you’ve always liked Michael.”

“Beth.” She tilted her head at me.

I looked at her sheepishly.

“I loved Michael. I still do. He’s a huge part of this operation, but I love you more.” She reached out and put her hand on my shoulder. “You’re my daughter.”

I sniffed, and my eyes watered.

“Above anything else, all I want is for you to be happy. It’s why I encouraged you to go to Port St. Clair when the opportunity came up,” she said. “I see how hard you’ve pushed yourself. I’ve seen what you’ve given up for this family. I just wish you could see it and acknowledge what you really want.” She paused. “And take it.”

I gave her a side-eye, not knowing what she was getting at.

“It wasn’t until we were in Port St. Clair that I got it though.”

“Got what?”

“That I was holding you back.”

“You didn’t hold me back, Mom.” I took her hand in mine. “This is always where I wanted to be. Here. With you and Dad. Building this.” I waved my hand toward the window.

“Maybe at some point in your life it was. But it’s not anymore. I see that. And as much as your dad would hate to admit it, he sees it too.”

My throat thickened, and I swallowed, listening to news I realized I needed to hear but didn’t know I’d ever hear the words.

“Your dad and I spoke with Michael when we got back from your place in Port St. Clair a few weeks ago. We mentioned we were looking to retire sometime in the next few years.” She paused. “I’m sure that’s one of the things he wanted to talk with you about when he came to see you. Of course, you’d be the one with first right of refusal to run Weber Farms, but after seeing you down there? I didn’t know if you’d want it or not. I wanted to get our ducks in a row for when you got back.”

My mind ping-ponged in all the directions at once. I was relieved they were finally looking at retiring. I had picked up on hints, but I wasn’t sure I was reading them correctly. I was anxious to figure out what this could mean. And I was sad at potentially leaving everything in the past behind.

“Mom.” I took a deep breath, pushing a tear away with my fingertips. “I love you guys. I love this business.”

“I know you do, but now, it’s time to take a look around and figure out if this is the life you really want to live.”

I gulped and looked out the window at the giant barn behind the house, the sheets blowing in the wind, and the acres of quiet that laid around us. Could I truly leave Randall? It was all I’d ever known—until this summer. It was what we did, who we were. Who I was.

A knot tightened in my stomach as my mom pulled me in for a hug. Her warm softness enveloped me, and her clean soap scent stood out as I nestled in her neck.

I pulled back.

“Dad is on board with retiring, huh?”

“He’ll get there.” She winked.