Wildflowers

Wildflowers by Robin Jones Gunn Read Free Book Online

Book: Wildflowers by Robin Jones Gunn Read Free Book Online
Authors: Robin Jones Gunn
turn around that week or any week after that. More than half of the inheritance Genevieve had received from her parents’ estate had been lost on a high risk stock that Steven had felt sure was going to triple. All her father’s hard-earned money was gone, just like that.
    And she felt horribly guilty.
    A long-repressed tear slipped out and trailed down Genevieve’s cheek as she stared out the window at the dark shadows stretching across the lawn.
I know it wasn’t Steven’s
fault. We both agreed on where the money should be invested. It’s not as if it was all lost. We still had enough to buy the café
.
    Wrapping her arms around herself, Genevieve rocked and wished Steven were there to hold her. He never was home when she needed him most. Like the night she had received the phone call that her mother had passed away. Or the afternoon she went into labor with Mallory, three weeks before the due date.
    Steven has simply not been there for me
.
    A stream of tears came, blurring her vision of the world beyond the familiar rocking chair. With her tears came a rush of criticism toward herself for being so overwhelmed.
Snap out of it, Genevieve! You have no reason to feel so sorry for yourself. It’s not as if Steven is moving in with another woman and leaving you forever. He has been a good father. He has provided for you and your daughters in a generous way over the years. Your inheritance money wasn’t something you needed to survive
.
    The tears didn’t respond to her logic. The hurt was very real to her heart. With the moonlight as her only witness, Genevieve rocked in her mother’s chair and cried out all the bottled-up tears she had saved, without realizing it, for such a leisure moment.

Chapter Four

    T he only conclusion Genevieve came to after her night of swimming in her tears by moonlight was that the Wildflower Café was now the embodiment of all her dreams and expectations. It was her one chance to make good on what had remained of the inheritance money, a chance to “make something of her life that will shine brightly.”
    Genevieve spent the next few days focusing on her redecorating efforts. She decided to put more work into fixing up the front of the Wildflower while the weather was nice.
    Steven called a few days before he came home, and Anna answered the phone. She bubbled over with descriptions for her father about her involvement in sprucing up the café. She described the four wooden frames she had salvaged from the shed and how they were all freshly painted,decorated, and ready for pictures worthy of their charm.
    Then she told him about how she had spent the weekend cleaning up the old bicycle, painting the fenders deep red and artistically positioning it in front of the café.
    “Seth wired the bike to the wall,” Anna told him. “Not because we’re afraid that anyone would want to steal it. It’s because it’s such a relic. Seth said the bike is being held together with fresh paint on top of the rust and the wire we used to connect it to the wall.”
    Genevieve stopped in the middle of helping Mallory with a math problem and listened to the delight in her middle daughter’s voice. Anna was telling her father customers’ comments about the café’s front. Then she asked a favor that Genevieve knew Steven would be happy to fulfill.
    “Dad, when you get home Thursday, will you pick me up after school and come see the front of the café with me?”
    The spring rains returned on Thursday, and so did Steven.
    He picked up Anna after school. Genevieve joined them in front of the café and held a wide umbrella so Steven could conduct his own shower of praise on Anna.
    Genevieve couldn’t hide her pride and enthusiasm for her daughter and for the café. The inside still needed a lot of attention, but the entrance was 1000 percent more appealing than it had been.
    “I heard some people say they think it looks like a European café now,” Anna said. “Is that what you think,

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