you’re right,” she said.
Edward turned, surprised. Nicole walked behind the counter.
“A customer should always be compensated.”
I stared at her. “Nicole?”
She reached under the register and pulled out a small gift bag, the kind we used for birthday orders, with pink tissue paper sticking out the top. She walked over and set it in front of him.
Edward frowned. “What’s this?”
“Open it.”
Vanessa narrowed her eyes. “Is this supposed to be a joke?”
“No.”
Edward reached in and pulled out several folded sheets of paper. His face changed before he even finished opening the first one. The color drained from it, slowly, like water from a sink.
Vanessa leaned closer. “What is that?”
He snapped the page shut. “Nothing.”
“They’re your messages to me,” Nicole said quietly.
I looked at my daughter. “What messages?”
Edward’s eyes locked onto her. “Don’t.”
That one word hung in
the air, and somehow the room grew even quieter. Nicole calmly took the pages back from his hand and unfolded the first.
“For the last few weeks, Dad’s been asking me to come live with him.”
Something twisted in my chest. “What?”
“He said you were working too much. That the bakery was swallowing everything. That Josh and I needed a more stable home.”
Edward took a step toward her. “Nicole, those were private conversations.”
She moved the papers out of his reach. “They were private until you walked in here and tried to destroy Mom’s business.”
Vanessa turned to him, stunned. “You asked her to move in with us?”
Edward didn’t answer her. And that silence told me she hadn’t known either.
Nicole looked at the next page. “This one’s from Tuesday.” She read it aloud, her voice steady. “‘Your mother is too proud to admit that bakery is
