“That’s the fourth time you’ve looked at the clock in the last ten minutes,” his mother declared, leaning an elbow on the counter where the register sat.
“Sorry.” He turned from the shelf of knickknacks he’d been pretending to straighten.
She shook her head. “I know this is no fun. Business hasn’t been great for a while. We met with Gil Saunders the other night.”
Drew went on full alert. Saunders was the man, a somewhat friend of theirs, who’d been wanting to buy the shop. “And?”
His mother smiled just a bit. “We think we’re going to sell.”
He struggled to keep the sigh of relief from passing his lips. This was their place and he did not want to influence them. “I see.”
That made his mother laugh. “Oh, Drew, please. Everything you think is written all over your face and it always has. Honey, it’s okay if you’re happy about it.”
“It is not. This has been your shop for a long time.”