It’s hard enough to deal with Peggy dying. I’ve never lost anyone like that before. Plenty of people have come in and gone out of my life, but nobody ever died. And now, Martha is going too. It hurts almost as bad as it did when I came out of that bathroom as a kid and my mom was gone and then learning that she’d intentionally left me behind.

What the hell am I supposed to do? They are my compass. My rock. The voices in my head congratulating me or tell me I’m being an ass. The closest thing I ever had to a parent, including the woman who gave birth to me.

The front door closes on the last of the guests and Martha comes over, smiling sadly. “You heard I’m leaving?”

“Why?”

She sighs and sits down. “Peggy and I were planning on moving to Florida, to get away from this damn cold and be closer to our kids. Most of them are down there.”

“She never told me.”

“She didn’t want to worry you guys.” She pats my hand. “We were going to wait until next fall, but I don’t want to be here anymore.

“I understand.” I really do. Peggy was her life, not the shop. “So, you’ll be closing Skin Scribes.”

Martha tilts her head. “Not exactly.” She opens the drawer in the side table and takes out papers. “I had these drawn up. I’ll still own the place, but I want you to run it.”

I don’t even take the papers. “I can’t run Skin Scribes. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

“It’s easy honey. Get yourself a receptionist and bookkeeper, and they’ll do all the work.”

“There’s more to a business than that.”

“My lawyer will do the rest. Anything business related, licenses and all that crap.”

All I can do is stare at those papers. This is not what I want. I was going to go back to school to teach.

“You won’t like teaching Alex,” Martha says as if reading my mind. “Your heart is in the right place, but you won’t like it.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve seen you with your customers since you met Kelsey. The people who come in for a tattoo need you listening, understanding and then doing their ink. Nobody else has what you have.”

“There are five other guys. Hell, maybe even Caleb and Pete will come back.”

“They just care about the ink, the skin and the money. They don’t care about anything else, but you do.” She presses the papers toward me. “Send me my cut every month. Or, you can send me a little more, the amount is in there, toward the purchase price of Skin Scribes.”

“As in buy it?” I’m shocked she even suggests such a thing. I am not a business owner. I do tats. I was going to go back to school. I once wanted to be a graphic artist. I never wanted to own a business.

“I just need you to open after the first of the year. The customers expect it. Operate it the way you want, and change the name.”

“It’s a popular tattoo parlor. Changing the name could ruin that.”

“It’s yours now, Alex. Make it your own.”

“I haven’t said yes,” I argue.

“Ah, but you will.” Then she winks at me. “Just think about it.”