Chapter Six
SOPHIE
My alarm blares, and as my eyes crack open, rapidly blinking away the grittiness from my makeup the night before, one thing occurs to me.
I’m officially too fucking old to sleep on Abbie’s couch.
My back groans as I sit up, reaching my fists above my head in a stretch that makes my shoulders crack in ways I didn’t think possible.
Yep, too fucking old.
“Turn that thing off!” Abbie grumbles, half asleep, from her bed in the other room. I find my phone where it fell on the floor last night, and turn off the alarm.
Crawling into bed with Abbie, I prod her with my finger. “Hey.” Despite the fact that there’s plenty of room in her queen sized bed for the two of us, no amount of alcohol can make me sleep through the way she tosses and turns all night. More often than not, she would end up laying half on top of me, spread out like some sort of restless starfish.
“What?” She cracks one eye open, glaring at me for interrupting her sleep.
“Thanks for being a good friend. I’m going to go home to get ready for work.”
“Yeah, yeah. I love you too. Leave me alone so I can go back to sleep.”
Chuckling, I leave her room to grab my clothes from yesterday. Abbie let me borrow some sweats to wear to bed last night, and once I change out of them, I throw them in the hamper on my way out the door. I’ll run home really quick and get changed before heading to Hart’s Flowers.
Saturdays are full days at the flower shop, and something I look forward to every week. Ever since I picked up managing the Twin Rinks, I don’t get nearly as much time in the shop as I used to. While part of me loves the fact that I get to do both jobs, the other part feels guilty for letting someone else help so much with the shop that my parents spent years growing from the ground up. During the week, I’m at the shop from open to till noon, then head to the rec center. On Saturdays, the assistant manager, Brandon, opens Twin Rinks, so I can stay at the flower shop until three, then grab Jordan and his two best friends for his hockey practice while I coach my own junior high rec team. The busyness of the flower shop on a Saturday should be enough to keep Carter far, far away from my thoughts—where he belongs.
When I arrive home at 8:30, the house is quiet. Tom’s truck is in the driveway, so I’m assuming he’s getting as much sleep as he can before heading down to the rec center to coach the younger hockey teams.
Twenty minutes and a hot shower later, I’m running out the front door in my pink Hart’s Flower Shop t-shirt, jeans, and my tennis shoes. I grab a Twin Rinks hoodie for the practice later and throw it in the back seat as I slide into the car. I’ll just make it in time. Last thing I need is to show up late and get a talk from my parents about how I’m “doing too much” and I need to “take a break and focus on myself.”
I pull up to the shop at 8:59, right as Kerry is flipping the “closed” sign to “open”, and she unlocks the door, smiling at me.
“Hey, Sophie!” she says as I approach, and grin back at her.
“Good morning, Kerry.” I walk through the door she’s holding open for me.
One of my favorite things about the flower shop is how it’s always bursting with color. I’d probably feel that way about any flower shop, but Hart’s Flowers is filled with so many childhood memories that every morning, the sight of it settles something within me. This place is safe. Predictable.
I do a quick inspection of the floral coolers that line the painted light-blue walls. One is filled with pre-made arrangements, and the others have tall, rustic metal buckets filled with specific flowers, separated by color. As always, Kerry has everything for the day ready to go.
After tucking my purse under the counter, I move to the tablet we use as a POS system, clocking in for the day.
My stomach rumbles, and I realize that I didn’t have any time for breakfast.
“I come bearing gifts.” Kerry’s voice is chipper, and she’s holding a cup of iced coffee and a pastry bag out towards me. Her bright green eyes sparkle, and I know she just heard my stomach as loudly as I did. She’s wearing the lavender version of our Hart’s Flower Shop staff shirts, making her eyes pop and her bronze skin glow. Her long, black hair is in a braid that drapes over her shoulder while curled tendrils frame her face, only adding to her angelic appearance.
“Oh, sweet Kerry, you’re a lifesaver.” I gratefully take the treats from her and immediately chug a third of the coffee. A moan escapes me at the taste of the salted caramel goodness. She always knows just what to get me.
Kerry laughs at my theatrics. “There’s a chocolate croissant in there too.”
“I knew I liked you.” I wink at her, and she chuckles.
“How much do I owe you?” She waves me off.
“You bought lunch last week, remember?” She’s right. I sigh, knowing that arguing that I should be buying her lunch for all of her hard work and she doesn’t owe me anything is an argument neither of us will win.
The bell over the front door chimes, indicating we have our first customer. “Greg!” Kerry exclaims, a smile lighting up her face. “How are you? What can I help you with?”
“Hey, Kerry.” The customer, a young man who looks to be about Kerry’s age, smiles nervously. “I need some help. I’m meeting my girlfriend's parents for the first time at dinner tonight, and I want to make a good impression. Do you have any ideas?”
“You bet I do,” she winks, and leads him to the display coolers, showing him the different flower combinations they could go with. Once he makes his choices, they come back to the front register and Kerry tells me to ring him up for a custom bouquet of white and pink lilies, dark pink carnations, and some babies' breath. He pays, and can’t seem to stop staring at me. Before I can ask if I have something on my face, Greg speaks up.
“You’re… you’re the Sophie from the Town Council meeting last night, right?” he asks, somewhat cautiously, no doubt remembering how worked up I got.
“Yep, that’s me,” I say with a tight smile just as Kerry comes out with the full arrangement.
“I bet you’re excited Carter Williams showed up and saved the day.” He nods, like he’s agreeing with himself. “He’s gonna do great things for this town, I can tell.”
Forcing myself to smile politely and ignore the anger at Greg’s words, I watch as Kerry hands the arrangement over, wishing him luck at dinner tonight.
It’s not Greg’s fault. If I hadn’t been trying to save the damn place myself for two months, and didn’t personally know Carter, I’d probably think the same thing.
But I do know better.
Shit, I had been so determined to not think of Carter, but of course, he’s going to be talked about. Having an NHL star come to Ivy Glen is the most exciting thing to happen in this town since… well, since he was drafted.
Kerry, sensing my shift in mood, wisely doesn’t comment on what Greg said. Instead, she turns to me after the bell rings at his exit. “I’ll send you the picture I took so we can add that to our menu. We can call it, ‘Meet the Parents.’”
The look-book is a menu of sorts, displaying all the arrangements we have and what occasions they might suit.
“Let’s wait until the end of the day, and I’ll add all the new ones at the same time,” I tell her, writing myself a sticky note so I don’t forget.
She nods, biting her lip. “I’ve been thinking, Sophie, what if we start marketing outside Ivy Glen? Like Oakdale, Willow Creek, or one of the other bigger cities nearby? I have some ideas.”
It’s not something I haven’t thought of before, and it would be a great opportunity for the shop. But heading up a marketing campaign to an entirely new demographic of people does not feel like something I can manage on top of the rec center, helping with Jordan, and not only handling the finances for the shop, but also manning the storefront.
If Kerry felt like she could be the driving force behind the marketing, it would be a fantastic business opportunity.
“That’s a great idea, Kerry,” I admit, turning to face her, “but it’s not something that I can head up right now. If you want to take it on though, I’ll fully support you.”
Her face lights up and she nods again, heading to the back to ready arrangements for some of our weekly orders while I man the register. Saturday is our busy day, and we hardly have a moment to breathe between consultations on baby showers, anniversaries, weddings, and checking out customers. Gladys Mitchell comes in around noon, her equally elderly Yorkie in her arms.
“Hi there, Monty!” I coo, giving the canine a small treat from the bowl on the counter, “how’s my favorite puppy?”
“Calling him a puppy is like calling me a teenager,” Gladys chuckles, then shakes her head, sighing. “I had to take him to the vet this week, it looks like he’s going deaf now.”
“Poor guy.” I frown, scratching him under the chin as his little tail wags.
Gladys places an order for some flowers to send to her friend whose husband passed away, and as I print her receipt, reminding her, “Don’t forget to send me over those financial statements for your taxes so I can get started.”
“You’re too good for this world, Sophie Hartwell.” Gladys sighs, tucking the receipt into purse. “I don’t suppose you’ll let me pay you this year? Or I could set you up with my grandson?” She arches a brow at me and I stifle a chuckle.
“Not a chance on the payment, Gladys. You’ve been a loyal customer of the flower shop for years, it’s the least I can do. I’ll let you know on the grandson, though.” I wink conspiratorially at her, and she tuts out of the shop, a self satisfied smile on her face.
A while later, after Kerry and I have each taken a thirty minute lunch break, I’m handing Mrs. Donahue her once-a-year order of a massive bouquet of red orchids, which she’ll bring to her husband’s grave.
“Thank you, Sophie, dear.” She smiles kindly at me, her wrinkles deepening at the expression. “What do I owe you?” She asks this question every year, even though the answer is the same.
“It’s taken care of, Mrs. Donahue. Give Mr. Donahue our best.” Same as every year on her and her late husband’s anniversary, she takes me in a frail hug, pressing a pink-lipstick kiss to my cheek.
“You’re a good girl, Sophie.” My heart breaks a little at the words, imagining how much she must hurt every day that my small action once a year fills her with such gratitude. She shuffles out of the store, on her way to the cemetery. Mr. and Mrs. Donahue were together for sixty years before he passed away from a stroke six years ago. I can’t imagine having to live without someone I was with for that many years.
Carter had been in my life for twelve years, and I was absolutely devastated when things ended. And it wasn’t even like he died or anything.
Enough of that, Sophie . No thinking about Carter.
He doesn’t deserve to take up even an inch of space in my mind. My brain is officially a “cheating, arrogant, rec center ruining, asshole free” zone.
Three o’clock hits, and I call back to Kerry, “I gotta go pick up the boys for hockey practice!”
She comes up from the back of the shop, rolling her eyes at me. “Any chance you can keep Theo while you’re at it?” I laugh at the jab at her younger brother, who has a particular talent for driving her crazy. She tells me she loved having a baby brother when he was born, since she was ten, and it was like having a live baby doll, but his pre-teen days are kicking in hard now and she could do without the attitude. “I’ll be fine by myself for the last hour until closing. You have a good rest of your day.”
“You too, Kerry. Thank you.”
I still need to find a new supplier for succulents since our last place increased their prices, and the delivery schedule for next week needs to be finalized, but I can take care of that later.
It’s time for the best part of my week: Hockey practice.