Chapter 10
There are always flowers for those who want to see them.
—Henri Matisse
The police never did show up. Apparently, Chris told the hotel manager Claire was part of the act but the audience misunderstood and things got out of control. The hotel manager didn’t seem entirely fobbed off by that explanation, but he did seem happy to call off the police. Bad publicity for the hotel, he said.
However, he told Claire she had to leave the hotel and forgo the second day of the conference. So she packed up her little overnight bag to head home.
She had mixed feelings about leaving. Sorry to leave Sophie, whom she kind of enjoyed. Not sorry to leave the rest of the conference. Sorry to have to tell MaryBeth that she’d been kicked out. Not sorry to tell MaryBeth that Jim Turner was spreading lies about purchasing Same Day Delivery.
Later, at home, when Claire was trying to fall asleep, she couldn’t stop thinking of Chris. A little spark of happiness kept trying to flare up while they were alone in the hotel manager’s office. Frustrating. Seven years had passed and she still struggled to tamp down her feelings for him.
When she had first arrived in Savannah, that very first Sunday, she’d gone to church with MaryBeth and heard the pastor preach, “Block the pain and you block everything.”
Not a bad strategy when you felt a deep ache in your heart. She wasn’t sure that’s what the pastor had in mind, but she took the advice and did her best to block all thoughts and feelings of Chris.
For the first time in seven years, she let herself picture Chris as she remembered him. His face came to her in little bursts, like a jigsaw puzzle taking shape. The way his eyebrows shot up in surprise. The cleft in his chin. The mischievous sparkle in those blue, blue eyes when he knew he had pulled off a trick. Seeing Chris had released all kinds of buried emotions. Anger, sadness, grief, loss ... and love. He’d been her first love. Her first everything.
They’d met in English class during senior year. She sat in a corner in the back row—the best spot to avoid getting called on by the teacher. It was her seat. By senior year in a small high school, everyone had their seats. One day Claire had come into the classroom, and there was a guy who looked a lot like Prince Harry, sitting in her chair. Chris. She told him to move and he wouldn’t budge. He patted his lap and gave her a flirty wink. “You can sit right here, darlin’.”
And so she did! She sat down on him.
That moment set the stage for their “spirited” relationship, which took off from there. All senior year, they were inseparable. They’d go roaring around town in his noisy old Ford Mustang. He helped her search for Nana on those frightening nights when she went missing. His friendship, his lightness and laughter, his daring ways—he’d been a great comfort to her over the year as she lost her grandparents and then their home. Chris helped Claire to not take life too seriously—something she was prone to do.
Chris had been recently released from a stint in juvenile hall and was staying with his aunt. Rose Reid, for all her practical, no-nonsense ways, had a blind side when it came to her nephew. Chris was the son she’d never had. In her eyes, he could do no wrong.
But Chris did plenty of wrong. Rose just didn’t see it. Or maybe she didn’t want to see it.
Maybe, Claire admitted to herself in the wee hours of her sleepless night, maybe she didn’t want to see it either. Neither did Jaime, or Tessa. Especially beautiful, male-magnet Tessa.
As Claire tossed and turned in the night, she thought about returning to Sunrise, like Chris had suggested. Mainly thought about why she would not do it.
The next morning, Claire arrived early at Same Day Delivery. One step inside the door and she closed her eyes to take in a deep breath, inhaling the clean, sweet perfume of the flower shop. Her favorite scent in all the world.
And then her pleasure evaporated. She heard K-Love blasting on the radio in the workshop, and the sound of the cooler door opening and shutting. MaryBeth was already in the shop.
Claire set her purse under the counter. Before she went to the workshop to face MaryBeth, she mentally rehearsed her explanation as to why she wasn’t at the conference.
The radio turned off in the workshop. “Sweet pea, is that you?”
Claire braced herself. She had never told MaryBeth about why she left Sunrise, but maybe the time had come. She went back to the workshop to find MaryBeth processing Zinderella zinnias—large, spherical blooms that were both gorgeous and lush. Perfect focal flowers.
She glanced over at Claire. “Hold on just one minute till I finish up with these darlin’s.”
All zinnias were MaryBeth’s darlin’s. Her go-to sturdy summer flower. She had specific flowers for every season. Her summer list included standard hothouse roses, hydrangeas, calla lilies, zinnias. And carnations, of course. After all these years, Claire still became sad when she saw the selection. Summer offered such bounty of beauty. The possibilities were endless! Anemone, black-eyed Susan, foxglove, Amaranthus, ranunculi. MaryBeth finally agreed to add sunflowers to her summer list, but only because Claire had verified to her that they could hold up for long periods of time without wilting. A flower had to prove its worth—in both dependability and affordability—for MaryBeth to even consider ordering it. Mostly, the latter.
Claire waited patiently until MaryBeth put the processed zinnias into a bucket of water. She set the bucket in the cooler and turned to Claire.
The time to tell all had come.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t time to tell.
MaryBeth folded her arms across her chest. “Last night I got a call from Jim Turner. Sweet pea, what on earth has gotten into you?”
Claire lifted a finger in the air. “I can explain!”
MaryBeth held her hands in the air like a stop sign. “Don’t even bother. It doesn’t matter anymore. As soon as Arthur arrives, there’s something important we have to discuss.”
A sick feeling started in Claire’s stomach and spread throughout her entire body. She hadn’t felt this way since the night her dad told her he was moving her grandmother to a facility. Change was coming, and it wasn’t going to be good.