Small-Town Girl. Jessica Keller

Should the partnership become public, Mr. Atwood had the right to back out of his deal with her and call in her loan in full.

      Thinking of the loan, plus the cost of the furniture in her office and everything else Sesser had given her, Kendall swallowed hard. It would take her years and a lot of hard work and sacrifice to pay the loan back if he called it in. More important, she’d lose her business—her dream.

      Brice angled his body in front of her in a protective way. “Like I said, it’s best if you leave.”

      Her mother peeked around him to make eye contact. “Looks like you found a dog with some bark this time. But we both know he won’t last. Not with you. You’re too much like me, Kenny. Neither of us can keep a man. That’s why we need each other.” She gave a small wave and headed back down the pier. “I’ll see you later.”

      Brice held on to Kendall’s hand while her mother staggered across the beach. His eyes never left her, as if he was on high alert. Neither of them said a word, even after her mother disappeared from view.

      Finally Kendall broke contact and dropped her head into her hands, grabbing fistfuls of hair. “I’m so sorry you had to hear all that. What must you think of me?”

      “I’m not sorry.” Brice placed his hands on her upper arms, getting her to meet his eyes again. “I’m glad I was here...glad she listened. Here’s hoping I’m around next time she shows up too.”

      “I don’t think she would have left so easily if I had been alone.”

      His eyebrows formed a V. “Is she always like that?”

      “Sometimes worse.” Kendall tried to offer a smile but failed miserably. “You must think I’m a horrible person, speaking to my own mother like that and telling her I won’t help her.”

      He let go of her and blew out a long stream of air. “Believe me, you couldn’t be more wrong. My own family...” He turned away and scanned the boatyard before turning his attention back to her. “How she speaks to you... It’s not kind.”

      “You get used to it.” Kendall pulled his coat tighter around her middle.

      “You shouldn’t have to.”

      She shrugged. “I tried to leave without letting her know where I was going so I could get a clean start away from her. You see how well that went.” She gathered her hair in one hand, catching it all at the nape of her neck so it would stop whipping into her face.

      “What are you going to do?”

      “What can I do?” She let her hair go so she could toss up her hands. “She’s my mom.”

      Brice steepled his fingers and pressed the tips to his lips for a moment, thinking. “My father isn’t the best man. He has a pretty bad reputation in town. If you stick around long enough, I’m sure you’ll hear about him sooner or later.” He shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “All that to say, we don’t get to choose our family, but we can choose how we let them affect us. We choose the type of power they have over us.”

      “Easy for you to say. It looks like you have more than just your dad.” An image of Evan and Brice hunched over the wood carving together projected onto her mind. “For me? It’s only the two of us. I get her or I get no one. Not the best set of options if you ask me.”

      Brice’s lips tugged with a sad smile of understanding. “Anyway, if you ever want to talk about it... I’m around and I’m willing to listen.”

      “I’ll try to remember that.”

      * * *

      Brice watched Kendall like a hawk the whole time they were talking. He’d misjudged her yesterday. Completely. He’d pegged her as a cheerful woman without a care in the world. What other type would start a date-planning service?

      But he’d been wrong.

      A quote the new young pastor at the church was fond of repeating filtered back into his mind. Something about being kind to every person because there was always something going on in everyone’s life—a battle—that the outsider looking in may never even know about. Kendall proved that. The beautiful woman Brice met yesterday hid a lifetime of emotional scars delivered by one of the people a daughter should have been most able to trust.

      Not unlike his own upbringing.

      Brice touched the scar on his cheek. “Will she follow you home? Will you be safe on your own?”

      “She’d never actually hurt me.” Kendall started down the pier and reached the landing. A cool summer breeze whistled in between the boats in the harbor, causing some of them to bob back and forth. Masts with bells jingled.

      Brice trailed her. “Words count as hurting.”

      “I can handle her.”

      It didn’t look like it. He bit back the words he wanted to say. If he’d read Kendall correctly, she’d been seconds from caving to her mother’s demands for money before he stepped in. Her mother would approach her again. Then what? But they didn’t know each other well enough for him to press the point, so he dropped it.

      Besides, he was one to talk. How much money had he given his father over the years just to keep the peace? He knew full well all that money ended up being used to gamble on the riverboats and not on food or items for the house as his dad had promised. Just like the money Dad had demanded in the latest voice mail. But his parents still had Laura in the house to take care of. Brice was never able to say no when his father dropped his sister’s name and said she needed something. So foolishly, until last year when Laura became old enough to have her own cell phone when Brice could call and check in on her, he’d still been handing over a lot of money to his parents.

      Technically he was the worst person imaginable to advise Kendall on dealing with her mother. It would be best if they steered clear of family conversations going forward.

      He fell into step beside Kendall. “Let me at least walk you back to your car. Where’d you park?”

      “Next to that warehouse.” She pointed.

      Brandon Hankman’s warehouse? Oh no. In Hankman’s world there was only black and white—no gray. If someone broke a rule, he was sure to point it out and want to see them pay a penalty.

      Brice’s gut twisted. “Not in a spot?”

      “I wasn’t able to find any spots...” Kendall’s words faltered as they rounded the warehouse. She froze. “Where’s my car? It was right here.” She grabbed his arm and jiggled it as if he’d been the one to move her vehicle. “Where’d it go? My mother—”

      “She probably has nothing to do with this.” But Hankman no doubt did. “It’s been towed.”

      Her eyebrows shot up into her bangs. “Towed?”

      “And you won’t be able to get it until Monday. The city’s lot is only open during business hours.”

      “Until Monday?” Her voice got higher. “What kind of town is this?”

      “A small one that can’t staff the lot on the weekends.”

      “Maybe these are all signs. What if my business is doomed to fail? I should never have tried to make all this happen.” She looked as if she might start crying.

      Brice’s stomach twisted into a knot. If there was one thing he was even worse at handling than parental relationships, it was crying women. Please don’t cry.

      Help. How can I encourage her?

      That thought shocked him. Usually Brice was introverted, but something about Kendall put him at ease. Perhaps it was her open way of talking. Whatever it was, if he thought about it any more he’d clam up.

      His favorite verse instantly came to mind. “Now, don’t talk like that.” He offered her what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “God doesn’t give us a spirit of fear. That discouragement