Flirting Lessons

Chapter Three

Three

Taylor’s phone buzzed in her pocket as she left the winery on Thursday evening. She glanced at it to see texts from Erica.

Erica

You free for dinner? if so, come over!

Or wait, are you busy? have I already won the bet?

Taylor rolled her eyes.

Taylor

I am free for dinner, but if I wasn’t that wouldn’t mean you won. having dinner with someone does not equal sleeping with them

Erica responded to that before Taylor had even gotten to her car.

Erica

When it’s you it does.

Anyway, come over. sam is away for work and I just ordered an enormous amount of pizza because i’m hungry for everything right now. plus, you haven’t seen our new deck and backyard yet!

Taylor

Hmm. what kind of pizza?

Taylor got into her car and laughed at the outrage that she knew would be on Erica’s face when she saw that text. Sure enough, she responded with a middle finger emoji.

Her relaxed, easy text conversation with Erica made her think about the much less easy conversation she’d had with Avery at dinner. Had she pushed Avery too far to talk about why flirting was hard for her? She’d seemed reluctant, and maybe embarrassed, to talk about that. Taylor wondered if this was all too much for her, if Avery would call all of this off. She really hoped not.

She stopped at a bakery on the way to Erica’s house and picked up a half dozen brownies at end-of-the-day prices. She wasn’t sure what Erica’s pregnancy cravings were, since she’d just found out that Erica was pregnant, but brownies never hurt.

It was weird enough that Erica and Sam had bought an actual house, but their home was on a perfectly manicured street, where all the houses had rose gardens or succulent gardens or flowering jasmine or all three, and some had actual white picket fences. If you’d driven her and Erica down this street five years ago and said that Erica would live there in a matter of years, they’d both be hysterical with laughter. And yet.

She and Erica had known each other for over ten years; they’d been friends since Erica’s first day on the job at the restaurant in Berkeley where Taylor worked. Up until then, Taylor had been the only Black server; they’d gone out for drinks after that first shift and had been friends ever since. That had been the only time they’d worked together, but their friendship had stayed solid. Taylor bounced around, working at a bunch of different cafés and restaurants as a barista, server, and bartender, while Erica had gotten her aesthetician’s license and worked in a spa during the day and at restaurants at night. About five years ago, they’d both moved up to Napa Valley—Erica because she’d gotten a job at a hotel spa, and Taylor because Erica had floated the idea that she come along since rent was so much cheaper and they were both sick of their roommates. Taylor had shrugged and said, “Why not?”

She’d had no trouble getting jobs up in Napa; there were tons of restaurants and bars, she worked hard and was good at her job, and customers always loved her. She’d gotten her first job at a winery when one of her favorite customers had an opening and asked her if she’d be interested. The job at the winery started as just a lark, one that she did on the side, but slowly—and especially after she moved to Noble, which paid well to start off, and then promoted her—she started cutting back on her hours at her restaurant jobs. Now, she worked at restaurants only occasionally, usually when she got a panicked phone call from one of her old bosses that they were shorthanded and please, please, could she work tonight?

Taylor hadn’t expected to be in Napa for long, but she was happier than she ever thought she’d be, so she’d stayed. Even after she and Erica stopped being roommates, they’d still lived in the same apartment building. And after Erica met Sam, nothing major had changed; Erica and Sam had just moved into a larger apartment in the building.

Then they’d gotten married, and then Erica and Sam had bought this house, and it felt like everything changed. She couldn’t help but feel sometimes like they were the grown-ups and she was the kid, still dating around, with no interest in getting married or even a serious relationship, still in an apartment, still in a service job. She loved her job, that wasn’t it, but was everyone else miles ahead of her as she just trailed behind?

She shook that off and got out of the car. Erica met her at the front door and immediately looked down at the pink bakery box in her hands.

“Is that for me? See, I was going to be all mad at you for not even telling me for sure that you were coming, and then you show up with…” Taylor flipped the box open. “ Brownies? Ugh, you’re the worst. Thank God for you, come in.”

She led Taylor straight into the kitchen, where both pizzas were on the counter.

“In answer to your question, one Hawaiian; one pepperoni, mushroom, and hot honey. I was craving that salty-sweet thing, you know, and I couldn’t decide between the two, so I ordered both. I also ordered a salad, since I’m supposed to be eating vegetables for the baby, I guess, but all I’m craving is baked goods and salty things. Though”—she grinned—“I guess that’s what the baby wants, and who am I to disobey a baby’s commands?”

Taylor grabbed flatware out of a drawer.

“How’s our little one doing in there?”

Wow, that was awkward. Our little one? What did that even mean? Well, they hadn’t found out whether it was a boy or a girl yet, so she couldn’t call it him or her. Not that Taylor believed in enforced gender roles. And she couldn’t call the baby “it”—she’d made that mistake once, and people seemed to get really upset when you used it for a baby.

“Good, at least that’s what the doctor said last week. I can’t believe I’m only halfway through this.” Erica put pizza on her plate, and they walked into the living room.

“They say the baby is the size of a mango now,” Erica said. Taylor almost choked on her slice of pizza.

“A mango? Why are you supposed to imagine your unborn baby as a mango?”

Erica laughed.

“Oh, it’s a whole thing! I guess because people can imagine that size? Every week it’s a different fruit or vegetable. Sort of helpful, very weird.”

Very weird seemed like a good description of most things having to do with pregnancy and babies, Taylor was discovering. Speaking of. She went to the kitchen, and when she came back, she presented Erica with a plate heaped full of greens.

“Salad time, my friend,” she said. “Sam will kill me if she comes home and all you’ve eaten are pizza and brownies.”

Erica rolled her eyes but obediently took a bite of salad.

“I even got a salad with broccoli in it, see how committed I am to this vegetable thing?” She brandished a piece of broccoli at Taylor, who laughed and started eating her own salad.

“I’m very impressed. And just for that, you can have a brownie for dessert.”

Erica giggled.

“I’m not going to stop at one. But also! That’s not how you’re supposed to do it anymore with kids. The experts say not to force them to eat things they don’t like or make food they do like a reward for eating something they don’t. It turns food into a power struggle and can lead to body image issues and other problems with food. I learned about this from a parenting book my friend Sloane gave me.”

“Sloane? You have a friend named Sloane?” Taylor asked.

“Yes, you remember her! You met her at my housewarming party,” Erica said. “We’ve had this conversation before.”

Well, Sloane clearly hadn’t made any impression on Taylor.

“I’m glad she gave you that book, and I will definitely never turn food into a power struggle with our forthcoming little mango, and I certainly won’t allow anyone else to do it, either,” Taylor said. “You’re going to have to coach me; you know I don’t know much about babies. Can I say, ‘You are such a good little mango, eating all of your broccoli like that’? Wait!” Her eyes widened. “What if you think of your kid as a mango and then you serve them mangoes? What if you think of your kid as a broccoli and then you serve them broccoli? OH GOD, what if you think of your kid as a potato? That will ruin potatoes forever!”

Erica was laughing so hard she almost choked on her broccoli.

“Oh no, I’ve created a monster,” she said. “You’re going to call this baby ‘mango’ for the rest of their life, aren’t you?”

Taylor considered that.

“Well, at least until our little mango in there has a real name…and okay, yes, maybe for a while after that.”

Erica shook her head.

“Thank goodness we didn’t have this conversation a few weeks from now,” she said. “Soon the baby will be the size of a rutabaga.”

They both let out peals of laughter.

“Rutabaga!” Taylor said as soon as she could speak. She put her hand on Erica’s belly. “How’s my little rutabaga in there?” Erica bent double with laughter. Seeing her laugh so hard set Taylor off again, and soon she was wiping tears from her eyes.

Taylor looked sternly at Erica when she was mostly recovered.

“Are you trying to distract me? I notice you aren’t eating your broccoli.”

Erica pouted and picked up her fork.

“That’s better,” Taylor said. She looked at the stack of parenting books sitting on the coffee table and grinned. Erica grinned back at her as she stabbed broccoli with her fork.

“I know, I know, it’s really early to think about this now, but you know me—I’ve been reading every parenting book I can. I like to be prepared.”

Taylor had assumed this. She did know Erica.

“Oh, speaking of, I ran into what’s-her-name at the bookstore the other day.”

“Camille? She always had such a thing for you. Did she ask you out when you saw her at the bookstore?”

“Well, as a matter of fact…”

Erica laughed.

“Was ‘the other day’ before or after our bet? Have I already won?”

Did Erica think she couldn’t look at a woman without sleeping with her? She wasn’t that bad.

At least, not all the time.

“It was after our bet, and no, you haven’t won. I told her that it wasn’t the right time—which was true—but that I’d be happy to grab a drink or coffee with her anytime.”

It had been weird, to have that conversation while she was out with Avery. Not that she was on a date with Avery, but still.

“See, this bet is good for you,” Erica said. “It’s making you stop and think about dating people. Not to be an old married lady, but—”

That never prefaced anything good.

“I feel like you just have to give a real relationship a chance,” Erica continued.

Taylor picked up another piece of pizza so she wouldn’t actively roll her eyes. This pregnancy had made Erica want the whole world to settle down.

“That’s exactly what Gemma said when I broke up with her. I ‘didn’t give our relationship a chance.’ Maybe I’m just not a relationship person. Not everyone has to be one, you know.”

Erica sighed.

“I know, of course I know that. I just—”

Taylor didn’t want to hear this. It was going to be something like I just want you to grow up and get married in a big fancy wedding and buy a house and have a baby like me , when Taylor knew that’s not what she wanted.

“ I think you should eat more of that salad, so Little Rutabaga in there doesn’t get scurvy.”

Erica burst out laughing.

“I don’t think you can get scurvy before you’re even born, but point taken.” She stabbed the salad with her fork and shoved it in her mouth. “See?”

Taylor nodded.

“Finish that, and then we can talk. Speaking of this bet, I’ve been thinking about what I’ll win. This is a big one, so I think I get a big prize.”

Erica laughed.

“I had a brilliant idea about what my prize will be when I win. You’ll have to throw my baby shower!”

Taylor recoiled.

“Throw your what? Didn’t we go through this when you got married?” Taylor had been happy to be Erica’s maid of honor but had drawn a firm line when it came to throwing a shower.

“Yeah, but you threw us a really great party, even though you refused to call it a shower.” A sort of firm line. “I bet you’d throw as great a baby shower as you did the wedding shower.”

Taylor shook her head.

“I would not! You need to know things about babies to throw baby showers! Like…onesies and diapers and things. I’ve never been to a baby shower in my life, I can’t start out by throwing one! And your mom will insist on being there, and she terrifies me.”

Erica shivered.

“She terrifies all of us, and yes, you’re right, she’ll insist on being there. But that’s it, that’s what you’ll have to do if—when—I win.”

Taylor reached for another piece of pizza.

“Okay, fine, then. When I win, you have to get me a spa day. A whole day, mind you, and not just a facial or massage, but the whole ‘mud bath, steam room, scrub-down’ kind of thing.”

Erica reached out a hand.

“Deal.”

They shook on it with identical smug grins on their faces.

“Anyway,” Taylor said. “Now that my evenings are empty, because of you, I’m occupying my time by giving flirting classes.” That was, if Avery didn’t change her mind.

Erica dropped her fork.

“You’re doing what? Where? Also, why didn’t you ever give me these classes, I could have used them!”

“Finish your salad,” Taylor said. “They aren’t formal classes—or that formal, anyway. Do you know Avery Jensen? She’s a friend of Luke’s, they went to high school together, she’s an event planner…anyway. She had a bad breakup recently, and she’s never really dated women, and she wants to but doesn’t know how or where to start. She was telling me about all of this at the winery party, and long story short, we had our first lesson on Tuesday night.”

Erica narrowed her eyes.

“Wait, was she that woman with the long hair and the immaculate white dress who was helping you over at the bar?”

Taylor nodded. She still didn’t understand how Avery had managed to drink wine and eat tacos outside and keep that dress perfect.

Erica’s eyebrows raised in amusement.

“Taylor Cameron. You come up with a different way of seducing people every single time. This is some sort of long con to get her into bed, isn’t it? This poor woman, she doesn’t even know what hit her.”

Taylor glared at her.

“?‘Seducing people’? Who do you think I am, some old-school movie villain? I’m not trying to seduce her! I’m just helping to bring her out of her shell a bit.” Yes, fine, she was attracted to Avery, but she wasn’t trying to get her into bed or anything. Even aside from the bet, Avery didn’t seem like she was ready for that. “I’m just trying to help someone learn how to date women. It’s my gift to the queer community, which has given so much to me.”

That sent them both into another fit of laughter.

“Okay, how are you doing this?” Erica asked. “Tell me everything.”

“That’s why I was at the bookstore, actually. I brought her there for a book event for a queer author and made her talk to people there. Not quite flirting yet, but baby steps.”

Erica put another piece of broccoli into her mouth.

“I can’t wait to see how this goes,” Erica said. “And I especially can’t wait to see what happens when our friends—and some of your exes…two groups that overlap quite a bit—see you going on these flirting dates. Please, keep me posted.”

Taylor grinned.

“Oh, I will.”

After Avery got home on Tuesday night, she’d picked up her phone at least three or four times to text Taylor. She was going to say thank you for everything, but she didn’t want to keep learning how to flirt. This was going to be too hard, too stressful. She could tell Taylor had gone easy on her this time, and yet she’d had to talk about her fear of people making fun of her and her fear of rejection? How humiliating.

But then she’d thought about what Taylor would say—and what Taylor would think but not say—if she got that text from Avery. She wouldn’t say anything bad; she’d let Avery off the hook easy and would probably text back something like ok, no problem, good luck , and that would make Avery feel even more terrible. Ugh.

The fourth time she picked up her phone, she made herself look up community gardens in Napa, just to see what Beth had been talking about. The garden was only a few blocks away from her building, and the class Beth had mentioned was at two on Sunday afternoon. Should she go? Gardening was a hobby, wasn’t it? And she’d liked Beth, who was also trying to do new things and meet new people around here.

For days, she’d gone back and forth about whether to go to the garden, even on Sunday, while she was getting dressed in her oldest jeans and a plain gray T-shirt. (That’s what people wore to garden, right?) She hesitated again right before leaving her apartment. Why was she doing this, anyway? The whole prospect of it seemed overwhelming, chaotic, dirty. Shouldn’t she just stay home and rearrange her bookshelves again?

She thought of what Taylor would say if she knew that Avery had chickened out about something so simple as walking into a community garden. She wouldn’t say anything mean, or judgmental—Avery barely knew Taylor, but she knew that much by now. No, she would just ask Avery, in that friendly, open way of hers, why she hadn’t gone, and Avery would have to tell her that the prospect of going to a garden seemed too much for her. Avery let out a frustrated sigh. Fine, Taylor. You win this one. She pulled open her front door and walked outside.

She followed the directions on her phone to the garden, just to make sure she went the right way, even though she’d driven down that street a million times. She’d never noticed the garden there, after all; maybe there was some secret to finding it.

As it turned out, it had been hiding in plain sight all along. There was an unobtrusive wooden gate, with a sign that read Community Garden on top. Avery could hear what sounded like friendly chatter behind the gate. She paused before opening it. Like Taylor said, she could always just leave if she hated it or if people were unfriendly. That’s why cell phones had been invented, so you could pretend you got an emergency call and escape. She made herself push the gate open and walk inside.

She stopped just by the garden, her eyes wide. How had she never known this place was here? It was wild and overgrown, neat and orderly, busy and calm, all at once. There were rows and rows of raised garden beds, most of which had many varieties of plants growing in them, of different shapes and sizes. Some were drooping over the edges of the beds, spilling their leaves and fruit almost to the ground; others were standing up high, full of bright red and yellow and orange and white flowers. The dirt paths were neatly raked, but growing along the sides were tiny plants. (Or weeds? She had no idea.) Trees lined the perimeter of the garden, a few of which were clearly fruit trees. Maybe they all were. In the middle of the golden-brown, sun-bleached Northern California summer, where they hadn’t seen rain in months, this place was lush and green and vibrant. She’d lived around here for so long, had driven by countless times, and this garden was just here all along?

There was a buzz of activity, with people industriously hoeing or weeding or whatever you did to plants, at many of the beds and more people milling around the exterior of the garden. Some gardeners were chatting and smiling and showing one another plants with more excitement in their faces than Avery thought possible. Only a few were just silently working in their beds. It was very cool to see this level of activity at a place in her neighborhood that she hadn’t even known existed. Almost everyone looked friendly and like they were having fun, and like they might be welcoming to a new person.

But…where was she supposed to go for the garden club? Honestly, she hated being in situations where she didn’t know what she was doing, so this situation was like one of her anxiety dreams. Should she turn around and leave right now?

“You seem confused. Are you here for the garden club?” Avery looked down, and a petite woman with short gray hair and more muscles in one arm than Avery had ever had in her whole body was standing in front of her.

“Um, yes?” Avery said.

“This way.” The woman set off down one of the long dirt paths at a fast clip. She was wearing oversize khaki cargo pants and a slim-fitting green T-shirt, and she carried a large canvas tote bag over her arm, with all sorts of gloves and tools sticking out of it. She walked so fast that Avery scurried to catch up with her, but she didn’t look back to see if Avery was following her. She stopped abruptly near the center of the garden, where a small group was gathered under a tree. One of the women in the group turned around when they approached, and Avery was both thrilled and relieved to see that it was Beth. She’d liked her as soon as she’d met her; she was so glad she was here. But wait, oh no, would Beth think she was stalking her or hitting on her or something?

But a wide smile spread across Beth’s face as soon as she saw Avery.

“Hi! Oh my goodness, I’m so glad you came. Now I know at least one person. You’re Avery, right?”

Avery smiled back at her. Taylor had said to trust her instincts about people; maybe Taylor was right.

“Yeah. You’re Beth, aren’t you? I never even knew this place existed; thanks for mentioning it. It always takes new people to show you stuff about the place you live.” She lowered her voice and leaned closer to Beth. “But I have to confess: I don’t know anything about gardening.”

Beth grinned at her.

“That’s okay, we can learn together.”

“Garden club!” Everyone immediately quieted down and turned to the woman who had led Avery over there. She had that kind of voice. “I see that we have some new members today, welcome.” She nodded in the direction of Avery and Beth, and everyone in the group turned to look at them. Avery tried to smile, to look friendly, but she probably just looked terrified. “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m James Kincaid, I’m a Napa County Master Gardener, and I’m the president of the garden club here. It sounds like a very big title, but simply means I’m here all the time, and I’m always available for your garden questions. We meet here on Sundays because many of us have beds here, and sometimes at members’ homes and gardens throughout the area for lectures and discussions. For the new people”—she turned to stare straight at Avery and Beth—“as you can see, we’re deep into summer growing, and the vast majority of the garden is all planted up. But if you two are willing to share, we just had one garden bed open up for the rest of the year. Do you want it?”

Way to put us on the spot, James . Avery had a lot of questions: What did taking over one garden bed entail? Did they have to pay for it? What were they supposed to plant? Did they get graded on their plants? Could they fail out of the garden if their plants died? Was it a cursed garden plot since it opened up in the middle of the summer?

As she tried to decide which question to start with, she saw Beth looking at her with raised eyebrows. Right, okay, this was a yes-or-no question. She nodded at Beth, and Beth turned to James.

“We’d love to share, thank you! And we’ll take advice and guidance from anyone who is willing; we’re both very inexperienced at this.”

James nodded to them.

“Good.” She handed them each a form. “Fill that out and pay the city online. I’ll take you to your bed shortly. Now, who wants to go first?”

Avery had no idea what that was in reference to, but apparently everyone else in the garden club did, because one person toward the front of the group raised their hand.

“Lillian, thank you,” James said. “Lead us to your bed.”

Beth turned to Avery, her eyes full of mirth. She pulled Avery down so she could whisper in her ear.

“If she doesn’t stop saying ‘your bed’ like that, I am one hundred percent going to lose it. So far, it’s been that we have to share a bed, she’s going to show us our bed, and now ‘lead us to your bed’? This is too much for me.”

Avery held back a giggle as they followed the group to Lillian’s bed. Lillian pointed out her vegetables and flowers and told the group about the problems she was having with them, and then the group gave her advice. And then James asked for the next person to go, and a man named Damien raised his hand, and they went through the same routine with his…bed. This was apparently the way the Sunday meetings worked, at least this time of year. They walked around and talked about people’s gardens, which, honestly, was very soothing. Everyone used words that Avery didn’t know, like black spot and germination and leaf curl , and there was a lot of headshaking or excitement about things she’d never heard of. A few people standing around her and Beth must have seen the confusion on their faces, because they explained things to them in low voices, which was very sweet. Avery understood only about a quarter of their explanations, but she thanked them and filed away her questions for later.

Once they were done walking around to the different beds, James pointed at her and Beth.

“You two. Come with me. I’ll take you to your bed.”

Avery did not make eye contact with Beth, knowing that if she did, they’d both start giggling. James led them to a plot in the far corner of the garden. It already had a bunch of plants in it, most of which Avery couldn’t identify, but a few were definitely tomato plants. She could tell by the tiny green tomatoes hanging on them.

“We usually have a long waiting list for plots here, but this is a special case. Henrietta had to move away for the rest of the year, but she’s hoping to be back next year, so she didn’t want to give her plot up. She already planted some tomatoes and peppers before she moved; I’ve been tending to them, but I’ll pass this bed over to you two for the rest of the year. You can add—or take away—anything you want, and you can ask me or anyone else at the garden for assistance if you have any questions. Here.” She pulled two cards out of one of her voluminous pockets and handed one to both Avery and Beth. “We get discounts at the local garden center, show them that for anything you want to buy.”

“Oh, thank you,” Avery said. She slipped the card into her pocket but wasn’t sure how much she’d use it. Would she really end up buying that many plants? She glanced over at Beth, but Beth wasn’t looking at her. She was staring down at her phone with a weird look on her face.

“If you want to remove anything from the bed, don’t throw it away,” James said so forcefully that Avery immediately felt guilty, like she’d already been planning to dig up and throw out the entire bed to start from scratch.

“Oh, no, of course not,” Beth said. Okay, good, it made Beth feel guilty, too. “What, um, should we do with it instead?”

“There’s a plant exchange here, just pot it up and put it on the shelf by the entrance, someone will take it. You should look over there before you go to the garden center, someone might have what you want.”

A plant exchange. Adorable.

“I’ll leave you two now to take stock of your bed.”

And with that, James stalked away, and left Avery and Beth standing next to their bed.

“She kind of scares me, you?” Avery asked Beth in a low voice.

Beth nodded but didn’t look at Avery. She stared down into their garden bed, with a distant look on her face.

“Um, yeah, me, too,” she said.

Oof, okay. Avery had meant that as a joke, a we’re-in-this-together kind of thing, but apparently it hadn’t landed. Maybe she’d read this all wrong. She’d thought she and Beth were bonding, that maybe she’d found someone who could be a new friend. Did Beth not want that? Was she being too friendly too early? Did Beth not want her to get the idea that just because they were sharing a garden bed— garden plot was maybe a better way to say that—that they could be friends? Yeah, that was probably it.

“I think I’ll head home now,” she said. “I’ll, um, go to the garden store or whatever sometime this week.”

Beth sat down at the edge of their plot.

“Yeah, okay,” she said.

Avery turned to walk away. And then she remembered something Taylor had said the other night. The thing about flirting with people—and about making friends, for that matter—is that you have to put yourself out there. Which is hard! But also worth it, because you don’t get anything if you don’t try. Ugh, fine. If this crashes and burns, it will be all Taylor’s fault.

She turned back to Beth.

“Um, is everything okay?”

Beth had been staring at the ground. She looked up at her with tears in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be such a buzzkill. I’ll be fine, it’s just that…” She shook her head. “Sorry, you don’t want to hear all of this.”

Avery sat down next to her.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to hear it. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, though.”

Beth turned to face her.

“No, that’s not it. It’s so stupid, I mean, I feel stupid about it, it’s no big deal, even though it feels like one. It’s just that Greta and I keep fighting about what we want our wedding to be. And it’s not even like the normal fights that people have, because I know what she would want and she knows what I would want. I keep insisting that it’s fine for us to just elope at the courthouse because I know she doesn’t want a big wedding or to deal with her family because her mom will want to take over, and she keeps insisting that it’s fine for us to have an actual wedding because she knows I really want my family there because I’m so close to them. I feel like no matter what we do, one of us is going to be miserable, and that’s not what I want for our wedding, you know? And she just texted me to tell me about the discount she gets to have for big events at her hotel, and it made me sad all over again.” Beth wiped her eyes. “See? So stupid.”

Avery patted her on the back. Awkwardly, yes, but at least it made Beth smile.

“It’s not stupid. Of course it’s a big deal; weddings matter to people. It doesn’t make you stupid to care about it.”

“I wish she would just let us elope! I know that’s what she wants to do! She mentioned a long time ago, before we even started dating, that the only way she’d want to get married is for only her and her partner to know about it ahead of time, so she wouldn’t have to deal with all of the stress of her family and other people and everything. And I know she still feels that way. She’s being so stubborn!”

Avery pressed her hands together. The event planner in her turned on. There must be a solution to this.

“So, it’s just that she doesn’t want people to know in advance?”

“Yeah. I thought maybe a compromise could be we could elope, then have a party later, but I know she’d say that I’d be sad that my family wasn’t there for the actual marriage, which is true, but I could get over it! But I bet her mom would try to take over planning the party—especially once she knew we’d eloped—so I didn’t even bring that up.”

“I have a better idea,” Avery said. “What about a surprise wedding? Sort of an elopement, sort of a wedding—you tell everyone that it’s an engagement party, or birthday party, or something, to get them there. No one knows in advance, your families are all there, you have snacks and champagne, you both go up to the front of the venue with whoever is officiating, and boom, the party turns into a wedding!”

Avery bit her lip after she finished talking. She’d forgotten for a second that she wasn’t talking to a client who had asked for her opinion, but to Beth, someone who she barely knew. Would it upset Beth that she was butting in, giving advice?

“Um, I love this idea,” Beth said. “Oh my God, especially since Greta’s birthday is on Christmas Day; we could make it a New Year’s Eve wedding, and I’d tell everyone she’s finally having a big birthday party so they have to come.” She stood up. “I have to go home right now and see how she feels about this before I get too excited. And even if she doesn’t love it, thank you for this, you’ve given me hope that we can figure this out.” She threw her arms around Avery and gave her a hard hug, and then took off for the exit.

“Thanks again!” she shouted when she was halfway there. “Meet you here on Wednesday?”

“Okay, see you then!” Avery shouted back.

Later that same night, Avery got a text from an unknown number.

Beth

Hi! this is beth, from the garden—i got your number from james, I hope that’s ok? I just wanted to text because greta loves the surprise idea, and we can’t thank you enough! want to meet at the plant store tomorrow to buy some plants for our bed???

Avery smiled down at her phone. She wasn’t sure about this hobby thing, but maybe, just maybe, she’d found a new friend.