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“You went to the apothecary for me?” Sacred Roots sells crystals, beads, and incense, as well as a variety of over-the-counter herbal remedies. I haven’t explored their more unusual offerings, but I love their tea blends.
“One of the ingredients is catnip, so…” She shrugs. “Don’t go in for a drug test anytime soon.”
Georgia fixes a mug of the tea and sets it in front of me. I don’t know about catnip, but the scent of peppermint and cinnamon swirls through the air. She dishes up the chili and slices the bread. As I fill my stomach, even more of the headache ebbs away, and I don’t feel quite so weighed down as I did this morning in the throes of it.
“This is exactly what I needed. Thank you.”
“The protein and fiber seemed like a good choice.”
I can’t help my smile. “You’ve been doing a lot of research lately.”
“You haven’t had a migraine for a while. I figured it might be worse than usual.”
“You were right. I didn’t have any of my food triggers yesterday, though.”
A little line forms between her eyebrows. “It was probably from stress. You’re working too much.”
I focus on the food in front of me. “It’s the same amount of work I always do.”
“It isn’t, though. With Hannah gone, you’re in the store all day, every day. Baking, working the register, hanging out for half of the book clubs. If we weren’t closed on Sundays, you might as well live there.” She watches me like she’s trying to calculate something. “Now that I think about it, you’ve never had a vacation.”
“That’s pretty normal for a small business owner.”
“Plus, you’re volunteering at Fiesta Village.” The smile that peeks out ruins her scolding.
“It’s playing games for a couple of hours every week. I’m not sure it counts as stress.”
“You’re at the Harvest Festival most Saturdays helping out there. I know you do a lot for your mom. And somewhere in between, you have to find time to work on your books.”
Okay, so maybe itwasa stress migraine.
“I’ll admit, there are a lot of things on my plate?—”
“Your plate is heaped buffet-style.”
I pause, accepting that assessment. I do take on a lot. And yes, lately it’s been harder to focus on my next book for long periods of time, with a hundred other things pressing on my thoughts. But I can’t just “go to my writing cave” and shut the world out. I can’t pretend my needs outweigh everyone else’s.
She runs her hand over mine. “You’re going to burn out if you’re not careful. Your body’s telling you that today. You can’t do everything.”
It’s like my mother telling me a few weeks ago that it’s okay to take time for myself. Even if I know it’s true on paper, some habits are hard to break.
“There’s this quote that says the best way to honor someone who’s passed away is to carry on the qualities you loved most about them. My dad was always there for people. Family, neighbors, strangers—he was always the first to step up and help. To really be present. He had a way of making everyone feel like the most important person in the world. After he was gone, I guess I took that on, in some small way.”
Working in my own store and doing a bit of volunteer work a couple of times a week is such a drop in the bucket compared to the man he was.
“That’s really sweet,” she says softly. She holds my hand tighter and drops her voice. “I love that you’re carrying on his legacy. But don’t forget, while you’re helping everyone else out, you’re allowed to receive some of that back. You deserve to feel like the most important person in the world sometimes, too.”
In this small, quiet moment, I do.
Chapter 20
Georgia
Despite the turmoil raging in my confused little brain, Dogeared remains my happy place. I love the coziness of being surrounded by books, coffee, and delicious treats, even when my heart’s on a never-ending rollercoaster. I come to work or just hang out and let it soothe me.
I don’t so much fight the butterflies that threaten to overtake me whenever I’m in the same room with Miles now as just…let them do their thing. Flutter on, you crazy butterflies. I’ll figure out what to do about you eventually.
Unfortunately, a few days after my big confessional to my sister-in-law, Sam shows up at my happy place. Not unusual, but still a tiny bit suspicious. I want to believe Harper didn’t blab everything I said to Sam, but it entirely slipped my mind to make her swear she wouldn’t.
