Читать книгу The Texan's Cowgirl Bride - Trish Milburn - Страница 11

Chapter Four

Savannah chickened out. Part of her wasn’t sure she wanted to know where her mother was, why she’d up and abandoned her family with no explanation beyond a short note saying she needed to be alone. So instead of calling Travis, she went home and buried herself in the familiar comfort of baking. She’d seen a recipe for peach cake online and already had several ideas of how to adjust it to make it uniquely her own.

Gina had the afternoon off, so Savannah was alone in the store. She had HGTV playing on the TV and was in the midst of pouring cake batter into pans when the front door opened. She was about to call out that she’d be with the customer in a moment when she noticed it was her dad being pushed in his wheelchair by Juan, one of the farmhands.

When Juan shot Savannah an apologetic look, her stomach sank. Her frustration wasn’t helped by the file folder sitting on her father’s lap. She broke eye contact and took a deep breath as she finished scraping the batter into the pans, then rinsing the bowls in the large sink.

Juan parked her dad at one of the small tables then made himself scarce.

“Can I get you something, Dad?”

“No, I’m good. But we do need to talk about the store.”

This so wasn’t what she needed today. For a moment, she wished she hadn’t made the decision to cut back on her racing. And she hated feeling that way because she loved her dad. At heart he was a good guy, but he had trouble believing anyone else could run a business as well as he could. Lizzie had already been down this road with him before he finally acknowledged that Baron Energies was in good hands while he healed.

She didn’t rush to his side, which no doubt annoyed him. Instead, she took the time to put the cakes in the oven, set the timer, and pour both her father and herself sodas before slipping onto a chair opposite him.

“I know the store has been your pet project, but we have to look at financial feasibility, and the store just isn’t cutting it.”

“We’re doing fine.” Of course, “fine” wasn’t anywhere near good enough for Brock Baron.

“Really? You don’t seem to be overrun with customers.”

Savannah held back the snappish retort that almost flew past her lips. Instead, she calmly said, “We had an entire bus full of people in here about an hour ago. I completely sold out of peach turnovers and pies.”

“That’s all well and good, but we’re a farm. We should be selling our products directly to food companies.”

“We already do that, Dad, and you know it. We’re doing quite well in that area.”

“Which just proves my point that we should direct all the products that direction.”

“I don’t think we’re quite at the point of throwing up the white flag just yet. The store’s offerings are growing every day. In fact, I just put some new cakes in the oven. I’ll even bring you one later.”

“You’re not hearing me. The store is not a wise investment.”

Savannah’s hold on her frustration slipped. “Well, I think you’re wrong.”

Shock registered on her father’s face. He wasn’t used to people disagreeing with him. Before he could say anything, she pressed forward.

“Dad, you trust Lizzie to keep things running well at the office. I’m a grown woman, too. Trust me to know what I’m doing here.”

She could tell he didn’t like being contradicted, and in that moment she wondered if her mom’s leaving hadn’t had anything to do with her children at all. Had Brock driven his wife away with his unyielding ways?

“Dad, do you know where Mom is?”

He jerked as if she’d slapped him. “Why would you ask me that?”