The bookstore thrived. Jennifer thrived. We fell into rhythms, morning coffee at the kitchen table before opening, book talk during slow afternoons, dinner together most nights.
She’d tell me about her writing. I’d tell her about customers, about Paul in the early days of the store.
Ten years passed like that. Jennifer grew from a scared 16-year-old into a confident 26-year-old woman.
She was kind. Talented. Strong in ways that still surprised me.
But sometimes I’d catch her staring out the window. A look on her face I recognized.
«What are you thinking about?» I asked once.
«Nothing.»
«Jennifer.»
She sighed. «Do you think he ever thinks about me?»
Chris. Always Chris in the background. «I don’t know.»
«I wonder what it would be like. Having a father.»
«You don’t need him.»
«I know. But sometimes I…» She trailed off. «Never mind.»
«You’re allowed to want that.»
«It’s stupid.»
«It’s human.»
She never brought it up again. But I knew it was there. That ache for something she’d never had.
We’d built something good together. Something real. But part of her still carried that wound. The father who didn’t want her.
I hoped time would heal it. I was wrong.
Things stayed quiet for a few months after that. Jennifer kept writing. The bookstore kept thriving.
We had our morning coffee. Our evening talks. Our life together.
I stopped worrying about Chris. He’d made his choice ten years ago. As far as I knew, he’d forgotten we existed.
I should’ve known better.
One morning, Jennifer came down to breakfast with her phone in her hand and a smile on her face.
«Look at this,» she said. «Someone from that online literary magazine interviewed me last month. I forgot it was coming out today.»
I took the phone. Read the headline. «From homeless teen to bestselling author: Jennifer Carter’s inspiring journey.» There was a photo of Jennifer in the bookstore, surrounded by shelves, smiling.
The article told her whole story. Amanda. The drugs. Finding her mother dead.
Foster care. The orphanage. Running away. A year on the streets.
Then finding William’s bookstore. Finding me. It mentioned the $200,000 advance. Her rising career.
How she’d been raised by her grandmother, Linda Williams.
«This is good,» I said. But my stomach tightened.
«They want to do a podcast interview next month,» Jennifer said. «Isn’t that crazy?»
«That’s wonderful.»
She took her phone back, scrolled through comments. People congratulating her. Saying her story inspired them.
I drank my coffee, tried to ignore the feeling in my gut.
The message came two days later. Jennifer was restocking the poetry section when her phone buzzed.
She pulled it out. Stared at the screen. Her face went pale.
«What is it?» I asked.
She didn’t answer. Just kept staring. I walked over.
«Jennifer?»
«He messaged me.» Her voice was barely a whisper.
«Who?»
«Chris. My father.»
My blood went cold. «What?»
She held up the phone. I read the message.
«Hi Jennifer, I’m Chris Williams. I’m your father. Your grandmother told me about you a few years ago, and I wasn’t ready then. I was wrong. I’ve regretted it every day since. I’d like to meet you if you’re willing. I’m so sorry.»
I handed the phone back. «Don’t answer that.»
«What?»
«Don’t answer it. Block him.»
«Why would I block him?»
«Because he wants something.»
Jennifer’s face changed. «You don’t know that.»
«Yes, I do. He saw that article, saw you’re successful. Now he’s interested.»
«Maybe he’s changed.»
«People like Chris don’t change.»
«You don’t know him anymore. It’s been 10 years.»
«I know him better than anyone.»
Jennifer put her phone in her pocket. «People deserve second chances.»
«Not him.»
«Why? Because he hurt you? Or because he didn’t want me?»
«Both.»
«Well, maybe I want to give him a chance anyway.»
We stared at each other. First real fight we’d ever had.
«If you do this,» I said, «he’s going to hurt you.»
«Or maybe he’s genuinely sorry. Maybe he wants to be in my life.»
«He abandoned you before you were born.»
«And maybe he regrets it. The message says he regrets it.»
«Words are easy, Jennifer.»
«So I shouldn’t believe anyone who apologizes.»
«You shouldn’t believe him.»
She turned away. «I’m going to answer him.»
«Don’t.»
«It’s my choice.»
She walked to the back office. Closed the door.
I stood there in the poetry section. Surrounded by books about love and loss and betrayal. This was going to end badly.
I knew it in my bones.
The first coffee meeting happened three days later. Jennifer came home glowing.
«He was so nice,» she said. «He apologized for everything. Said he was young and scared. That he’s thought about me for years.»
«What else did he say?»
«He asked about my writing. About my books. He seemed really proud.»
Of course he did. «Are you going to see him again?»
«He asked if we could meet next week. Is that okay?»
«You don’t need my permission.»
«I know. But I don’t want you to be upset.»
«I’m not upset.» I was terrified. «I just want you to be careful.»
«I will be.»
The meetings became regular. Once a week. Then twice. Coffee turned into dinner. Dinner turned into lunch on weekends.
Jennifer texted me updates. «He’s so funny. He told me about his startup ideas. He asked to see my manuscript.»
I watched from a distance. Waited for the other shoe to drop.
After a month, Chris started showing up at the bookstore. Always when I wasn’t there.
Jennifer would mention it later. «Dad stopped by today.»
Dad. She was calling him dad now.
«What did he want?»
«Just to say hi. He bought a book. One of mine.»
«How nice.»
«You don’t like him being around.»
«I don’t trust him.»
«You don’t trust anyone.»
«That’s not true.»
«You’ve been alone for so long you forgot what it’s like to let people in.»
That stung. «I let you in.»
«Because you had to. I needed help.»
«That’s not why.»
«Then why don’t you want me to have a father?»
«I want you to have a father who actually cares about you. Not someone who showed up the second you became successful.»
Jennifer’s face hardened. «You’re wrong about him.»
«I hope I am.»
But I wasn’t. Two months in, Jennifer mentioned Chris to her literary friends. Brought him to a book signing.
He charmed everyone. Told stories. Made people laugh.
I watched him work the room. Saw how he positioned himself next to Jennifer. How he mentioned being her father to anyone who’d listen.
«He’s really proud of you,» one of Jennifer’s friends told me.
«Is he?»
After three months, things shifted. Jennifer came home from dinner with Chris. Quiet, thoughtful.
«Everything okay?» I asked.
«He told me about a business opportunity.»
There it was. «What kind of opportunity?»
«Subscription boxes. He says the market’s coming back. Better than it was 10 years ago.»
The same pitch, word for word. «How much does he need?»
Jennifer looked surprised. «How did you know he needs money?»
«Lucky guess.»
«He needs investors, people who believe in the concept.»
«And he asked you.»
«He said he’d understand if I wasn’t interested, but he wanted to give me first opportunity, since I’m family.»
Since I’m family. The words made me sick.
«How much?»
«A hundred thousand to start. But he says the returns could be huge.»
«Jennifer.»
«I know what you’re thinking. But he showed me the business plan. It’s solid.»
«Don’t give him money.»
«It’s my money.»
«I know, but please, don’t do this.»
«He’s my father.»
«He’s a con artist.»
«Stop.» Jennifer stood up. «You never wanted me to have a relationship with him. You’re trying to sabotage this.»
«I’m trying to protect you.»
«From what? From having a parent who actually wants me?»
«He doesn’t want you. He wants your money.»
«You don’t know that.»
«Yes, I do.»
«No. You just can’t stand that someone besides you cares about me.»
«That’s not fair.»
«Neither is this.» She grabbed her coat. «I’m going for a walk.»
She left. I sat at the kitchen table, hands shaking.
I had to do something. Had to prove what Chris was really after.
The plan came to me that night. It was risky. If I was wrong, Jennifer would never forgive me.
But if I was right, she’d finally see the truth.
I called Chris the next morning.
«Mom?» He sounded surprised. «What’s going on?»
«I need to talk to you. In person.»
«About what?»
«About Jennifer. And money.»
Silence. «Okay. When?»
«Today. Four o’clock. The bookstore.»
«I’ll be there.»
I hung up. Texted Jennifer. «I need you to trust me. Come to the bookstore at 4:15. Don’t come inside. Wait in the back office. Just listen. Please.»
She texted back an hour later. «What’s this about?»
«Please. Just do this one thing for me.»
«Fine.»
At 3:45, I closed the store early. Locked the front door.
Jennifer arrived at 4:00. I let her in through the back.
«What’s going on?» she asked.
«Chris is coming. I’m going to talk to him. I need you to listen from the back office.»
«Why?»
«Because I need to prove something. And you won’t believe me unless you hear it yourself.»
«This is crazy.»
«Just listen. That’s all I’m asking.»
She looked at me. «You really think he’s using me?»
«I know he is.»
«And if you’re wrong?»
«Then I’ll apologize. To both of you.»
She went to the back office. Left the door cracked.
Chris arrived at 4:03. I let him in. Locked the door behind him.
«What’s this about?» he asked.
«Sit down.»
He sat at one of the reading tables. Looked around the store like he was appraising it.
«I’ve been thinking,» I said. «About what you said 10 years ago. About selling this place.»
His eyes sharpened. «Okay.»
«You were right. I’m getting older. This is too much work.»
«So you’re ready to sell?»
«Maybe. The property’s worth more now. 450,000 at least.»
I watched his face. Saw the calculation happening. «That’s good,» he said carefully.
«I’ll sell it,» I said. «And I’ll give you all the money.»
«What?»
«Every penny. 450,000 dollars. Maybe more if I get a good offer.»
He leaned forward. «Why would you do that?»
«One condition.»
«What?»
«You disappear from Jennifer’s life. Completely. No contact. Block her number. Block her social media. Walk away and never come back.»
Chris stared at me. «You’re serious.»
«Dead serious. The money’s yours if you leave her alone.»
«She’s an adult. She can make her own choices.»
«Then make yours. The bookstore or your daughter.»
