Just One Kiss (Fool's Gold #10)(12)

“Or annoying, if Great-Aunt Becky wasn’t into kids.”

Ava laughed. “As it turned out, she was as charmed by you as you were by her. She extended her visit twice and you both cried when she left. She always meant to come back, but never made it.”

“I wish I could remember her.” Patience had vague recollections of a tall woman, but that could have been anyone. “Do you want me to send a card?”

“If you’d like. The thing is, Great-Aunt Becky left you some money. An inheritance.”

“Oh.” That was unexpected. “Didn’t she have children of her own?”

“One daughter. Great-Aunt Becky was very wealthy, so her immediate family is taken care of. You don’t have to worry.” Ava leaned forward and took Patience’s hands in hers. “She left you a hundred thousand dollars.”

Patience stared at her mother. She heard a rushing in her ears and if she’d been standing, she would have surely fallen to the floor. The space-time continuum seemed to shift just a little to the left.

“A hundred...”

“Thousand dollars,” her mother said. “You heard that right.”

The number was too big. No. It was too huge. Impossible to grasp. That was all the money in the world.

“Margaret wanted to let me know that the lawyer in charge of Great-Aunt Becky’s estate will be calling you in the morning. He has the check written and ready to overnight to you.”

Patience pulled one hand free to press it to her chest. “I don’t think I can breathe.”

“I know.”

“We can pay off the mortgage.”

“I don’t want you to worry about that.”

Patience shook her head. “Mom, you’ve been there for me all my life. I want to pay off the mortgage. Then I’ll fund Lillie’s college account.” She bit her lower lip.

Even after all that, there would still be money left over. Maybe as much as twenty-five thousand dollars. Assuming she put some away for a rainy day, there was still enough to...to...

Ava nodded. “I know. I thought of that, too.”

“The coffeehouse.”

“Yes. We could do it.”

Patience sprang to her feet and raced upstairs. When she reached her bedroom, she pulled open the bottom drawer of the small desk under the window and removed a file. It was her business plan—the one she’d been working on for years.

She returned to the kitchen and spread out the papers.

Everything was there. The cost of the lease, money for minor renovations, equipment, supplies and some promotions. There were cost projections, income estimates and a profit-and-loss statement.

“We could do it,” she breathed. “It would be tight.”

“I have some money I’ve saved,” Ava told her. “I’d want to invest in the business. That way we’re really partners.”

“We’re partners no matter what.”

“I want to do this, Patience. I want you to open the business and I want to help.”

Patience returned to her seat. “I’m terrified. I’d have to quit my job with Julia to do this.” Which meant giving up the security of a regular paycheck. She would also have to take on the lease and hire people.

Her stomach churned. Somehow dreaming was a whole lot easier than facing the possibility of trying and failing. Yet even as she wondered if she could, she knew there wasn’t really a choice. She’d been given a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Great-Aunt Becky’s gift deserved more than her being afraid.

“You want to do this?” she asked.

“Absolutely.”

“Then we will.” She drew in a breath. “I’ll call Josh about the building I have my eye on and get an appointment to see it as soon as possible. Once we figure out if that’s the right space, we can move forward.”

She stood and her mother did the same. They faced each other.

“We’re really doing this,” Patience said, laughing.

“We are!”

They hugged each other and started jumping up and down. Lillie appeared on the stairs.

“What’s going on?”

“We’re opening the coffeehouse,” Patience said, holding out her arm so her daughter could join them.

“Really? Are you going to call it Brew-haha?”

“I am.”

“Can I help?”

“Yes.”

They hugged and jumped and screamed and danced. When they were all exhausted but still grinning, Ava motioned for them to follow her.

“This calls for ice cream,” she said. “Let’s all go get hot fudge sundaes.”

Patience laughed. “I’ve always admired your style, Mom.”

* * *

“JUSTICE?”

Justice turned at the sound of his name. Patience stood on the other side of the street, waving at him.

The sight of her—worn jeans hugging curves, a T-shirt featuring a white cat with a martini in one paw, long, wavy hair fluttering in the light breeze—hit him in the gut. And lower. Her smile made his mouth curve up, and her enthusiastic wave drew him.

In the fifteen years they’d been apart, he’d never forgotten her, even as he’d wondered if he was remembering more than there was. Now, watching her practically dance in place as he crossed the street to get closer, he knew he’d missed out on the main point. Patience in real life was far more vibrant than any of his recollections.