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“Hi dad,” Bea said as she opened the door to their apartment. “Hold on a second. I’ll be right back.”

Her father was where he usually was when she got home, watching TV on the couch. She retrieved the envelope from Home Badger and took it back to the living room before sitting on the side chair beside her father.

“Hi Bea. What’s up? Should I turn off the TV?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

He got up and pushed the power button on the old TV. Vaguely it reminded Bea that they didn’t even have a TV with a remote control. At least it wasn’t black-and-white.

She took a deep breath and began.

“So, here’s the thing. A man from Home Badger came by yesterday. Actually he’d come in before a while back, but he didn’t tell me who he was then.”

“Home Badger,” her dad spat. “What do they want?”

“They want to buy the Ol’ Pickaxe, dad.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. He left this paperwork to look at. Dad, they’re going to break ground on a new Home Badger location out by the Interstate.”

Her dad let out a sigh. “Was bound to happen, I suppose.”

“Dad, you know what that’ll do to us.”

“Yeah. I know. We’ve got maybe five years at best till everyone starts going over there. They’ll undercut our prices too, and we won’t be able to match them. I studied them, you know.”

“I know, dad. But here’s the deal they’re offering. They are going to keep the Pickaxe open, as a satellite of the main store. We can keep our staff too. And dad…” she paused for emphasis.

He sat up and looked at her. “Yeah?”

She pulled out the first page. The offering amount was in large type.

Her father’s eyes grew wide for a moment, before narrowing in suspicion again.

“Why so much? What’s the catch?”

“Dad, I don’t think there is a catch. After that situation in Sprayberry, I think they’re doing this to keep a good reputation - and our good will. Ever since that thing in the mine, I guess I’m kinda popular around here. But he said that as soon as the news of the new Home Badger is out, the offer will be removed.”

“Sounds like Home Badger. Gotta keep the pressure on. But you think it’s legit? We’d better have this looked over. Who knows what ‘gotcha’s lurk in the fine print?”

“Definitely. I read the whole thing and didn’t see anything, but we need a lawyer’s eyes to be sure. But I didn’t know if… well… if you’d be interested.”

Her father took her hands in his. She looked at them. Like his eyes, they were older than she remembered. Still big and strong, but more wrinkled, and the scales seemed looser.

“Bea,” he said, squeezing her hands for emphasis. “I’m getting older. I know the Pickaxe is all you’ve known. Even if we hadn’t lost your mother, I might not be able to run the place anymore anyway. I’m starting to forget things, Bea. I didn’t tell you, but I notice it. Bea… I think it might be time to sell.”

“Really?” Bea said, her eyes widening. But she immediately held back her emotions. She didn’t want to influence his decision. Despite her work there, it was ultimately his business.

“Yes I do. Bea, I know you always wanted to go off to college. What happened with your mother… it’s been hard on both of us. Maybe this is for the best, Bea. Are you still interested? In college I mean? You’d be starting late.”

Bea’s eyes started to burn. “Dad, I’ve never wanted anything more. I know this isn’t enough to live on, but if I could get a good degree, I know I could make enough for us both. And without that damn hospital bill hanging over us.”

“You sure you’re okay with it?”

Bea started to laugh. “Dad… I’ve never been more sure.”

“I thought you loved the Pickaxe!”

“I do… kinda. But… Oh dad, thank you!”

“Why don’t you take this over to Mr. Akkerman tomorrow and have him look it over. Don’t get your hopes up too much. One wrong sentence buried in here can mean it’s not at all what it looks like!”

“Dad, Mr. Akkerman retired last year. We’ve got a new lawyer now. Mr. Dansky. Don’t you remember?”

Mr. Santello hit his head lightly. “Of course. I’m telling you Bea, it’s no fun getting old! Do that. Take it to Mr. Dansky.”

“I will. And dad… thanks!” she said, getting up and giving him a fierce hug that he returned.

“Thanks? For what?”

“For the Pickaxe, dad. We might be selling it, but we’d have nothing to sell without all the years you put into it!”

“Aw, thanks kid. But it kept us going all these years, didn’t it? That’s something, especially in this town.”

“That’s really something special, dad. You can be proud of it. I’m going to insist that they keep a picture of you inside the store.”

“Both of us, Bea. You’ve kept her going these last two years on your own. That should be remembered too.”

“Okay. Both of us! Maybe I can get them to rename it to Ol’ Santello’s.”

“Hey! That’s not a bad idea! Not like pickaxes sell anymore. I bet the younger folks don’t even know what a pickaxe is for.”

*****************************

Two days later, Bea got a call from Mr. Dansky. She left the Pickaxe early and walked to his home-office not far off Main Street.

The place smelled of books, like every lawyer’s office she’d ever been in.

He was sitting at the big mahogany desk and invited her to sit down.

“I’ve looked over the document and, Bea, I have to tell you, it’s as straightforward a buy-out as I’ve ever seen. I’ve also written up the two clauses you asked for and have spoken to Mr. Brown on your behalf. He’s agreed to both, and they’ll pay for the signage changes too! I don’t know how you managed to get an offer of this size though. You must really have impressed them, Bea!”

“Ah, I don’t know about that. I think they were just desperate.”

“Well, for whatever reason, they aren’t sparing any expense on this. Are you and your father free to come by on Friday? They want to get the contract signed as soon as possible. I suggested 1pm, if you can bring him in.”

“Sure! No problem. We’ll be here at 1pm.”

Mr. Dansky handed the envelope back to Bea, rising to show her out.

“And Bea… tell your father I want to congratulate him. Businesses in Possum Springs just don’t sell for that much. But I can also tell you I hope to be buying my hardware from Ol’ Santello’s for years to come!”

Bea thanked the young lawyer and stepped out into the late-spring afternoon. Suddenly, in the space of only a few short weeks, her life had changed completely. She had hope again.

********************

Friday couldn’t come soon enough. By noon she was back in her apartment, trying to help her dad get ready as best she could. His suit no longer fit around the middle, but she persuaded him to wear it open anyway. But, other than Mae, she hadn’t told a soul about the impending buy-out.

At the meeting she met Mr. Brown again, along with two lawyers for Home Badger. Her dad treated them respectfully enough, though his suspicions were on high alert - questioning everything he had to put his signature to. After a lengthy three hours, though, all the papers were signed and the transfer of ownership - as well as the new name - would happen on the first of the next month. Bea would stay on to help the transition for two months at full manager’s salary - more than she’d ever paid herself really - at the end of which her position would be open to her to continue if she wanted to, or open for anyone of her choosing.

Germ came immediately to mind for her replacement.

They walked out of the lawyer’s house/office and Bea felt the weight of the world suddenly lifted off her shoulders. She walked home with her dad, walking by the Ol’ Pickaxe on the way.

“Let me stop in, for just a minute, Bea?”

“Sure dad,” she said, and held the door open for him.

He made his way over to his accustomed place behind the counter, while Germ stepped out from behind it. The old wooden floorboards creaked in a way that somehow always reminded Bea of her dad. No one else made them creak in quite the same way, and it brought back memories of an earlier, happier time.

The old gator breathed in deeply.

“Still smells of wood and turpentine,” he said, opening his eyes. “Your mom used to sit here, on this very stool, Bea, when you were so little. We used to have a closed-off area over by that window where you and Mae would play when you were kids. Do you remember that?”

“I remember it. Mae does too.”

“Then you used to come in… right about this time, after school. Right through that door. I can see you now, Bea. You’d be in your school clothes and the bell would ring over the door. We used to have a mechanical bell on a spring, you know. Not the electronic thing we have now. We’d hear that bell, and your mom would come running over. Oh, those were good times, Bea.”

“The best, dad.”

Mr. Santello sat still, looking at the door. His eyes went from bright, shining remembrance to heartbreakingly sad in an instant.

“God I miss your mom.”

Bea couldn’t stand it. She hugged her dad to herself. “I do too dad.”

“Bea. You know I’ve never been a religious man. I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve been to her grave.”

“A long time, dad. Do you want me to take you there?”

“No, Bea. I want you to take me to Pastor Karen. I need to talk to somebody. I love you, Bea, but I think I need to talk to her. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, dad. I think I do. Let’s go see her.”

And with that, Bea walked her dad out of the Ol’ Pickaxe - soon to be renamed Ol’ Santello’s.