Chapter Thirteen
BY THE TIME HE MADE THE FOURTH DELIVERY, RYAN FELT LIKE A rock star.
With the exception of the subdued employees at the funeral home where he had dropped off a striking arrangement of white lilies and roses, as well as eucalyptus, ferns and succulents in muted colors, everyone seemed delighted to see him.
It was kind of nice to be in the business of delivering something that made people happy.
All of the recipients had also wanted to know who he was, how he knew Holly and why he was helping deliver for Evergreen & Ivy.
She was clearly well-known and well-liked around town.
He checked the final address and saw it was for a resident at the Shelter Inn, a retirement community he had seen when driving through town. The arrangement was cheerful and bright and also particularly fragrant.
He pulled into a visitor parking space in front of the building and picked up the final arrangement.
As soon as he walked into the main entrance, a couple of elderly women who had been leaving what looked like a recreation room made a beeline for him.
“Ooh, flowers. Who are they for?” one of them asked, her eyes a vibrant blue behind thick glasses.
Was that info confidential? He couldn’t think of a good reason why it might be.
“Um, Birdie Lovell,” he said, looking at the careful note Holly had written for him.
Her companion, a tall, striking woman with warm dark eyes, beamed.
“Oh good. Birdie has been so under the weather this week, poor thing,” she said.
“Some gorgeous flowers will be just the ticket to brighten her day, especially since you have roses and gardenias there that will smell delicious. Birdie can’t see so well. ”
He had no real answer to that so he only smiled politely.
“Can you tell me where to find Birdie?”
“Her apartment is down the hall. I’m sure she’s there, as she’s been staying mostly to herself so she doesn’t spread her crud. We can show you, can’t we, Florence?”
“Sure can, Arlene. Follow us.”
He had the apartment number clearly written on the extremely organized list Holly had given him but he had the feeling if he told these women he didn’t need their help, they wouldn’t listen to him anyway.
On the short walk down the hall, they asked his name, if he was new in town and his connection to the floral shop.
“Holly is a friend,” he explained, a little surprised to realize that somehow that had become true since he had arrived in town.
He liked Holly far more than he probably should.
“She was in a bind this afternoon,” he explained, “so I offered to help with some of her deliveries.”
“Oh, aren’t you the sweetest thing,” Florence said, giving him a frank, admiring look that made him squirm.
“I don’t know about that. I’m glad for the chance to help out.”
“That girl deserves a nice guy like you to help her out,” Arlene said.
“Especially one who looks like he should be a Navy SEAL,” Florence said.
“Not a SEAL, but I am in the navy. Lieutenant Commander Ryan Caldwell. I’m a helicopter pilot.”
Florence chuckled. “Even better. My husband, James, used to fly helicopters in the army. One of the few Black pilots back in the day. He flew in Vietnam.”
“Really? He was one of the six hundred MOL?” he asked, using the term the relatively small number of Black pilots who fought in Vietnam used to refer to themselves.
He knew it stood for the six hundred men on the line , men whose extraordinary bravery was even more significant given the prejudice they often faced from their own side.
“He was indeed,” she said, giving him an appraising look. “I’m surprised you know that term.”
“I’ve studied the history of pilots in all branches of the military. A few months back I read a great book about the six hundred.”
“Oh, you definitely need to chat with James then. He’ll talk your leg off.”
“I would enjoy that,” he said truthfully, making a mental note to come back and find Florence’s husband at some point during his stay here in town.
A moment later, they reached an apartment door that was decorated with a festive garland and wreath.
“Here you go,” Arlene said.
He rang the doorbell and he and his newly acquired posse waited until an elderly woman wearing a bright pink sweater with a pompom candy cane on it opened the door. At her side was a large yellow Labrador retriever.
“Hello?” she said, looking so clearly at them that it took him a moment to remember her friends had said she had low vision.
“Birdie, it’s Florence and Arlene,” Arlene said. “We’ve brought you a surprise. A very good-looking man who comes bearing flowers for you.”
“Oh, how lovely. I can smell them from here.”
The bouquet was colorful and fragrant. He suddenly knew without a doubt that wasn’t accidental. Holly had deliberately chosen particularly bright and odiferous flowers for Birdie’s arrangement.
Her thoughtfulness and knowledge of her customers left him oddly touched.
“What is your name, young man?” Her voice sounded raspy and she coughed into a handkerchief.
“Hello, Ms. Lovell. My name is Ryan Caldwell and I’m making deliveries for Holly Moore at Evergreen and Ivy.”
“That’s Lieutenant Commander Ryan Caldwell,” Florence put in. “He’s a helicopter pilot, like my James.”
“Hello, young man. How nice to meet you.”
“Someone sent you a get-well bouquet,” he said. “I’m sorry you’ve been feeling under the weather.”
She gave a dismissive gesture. “I’ve had a nasty bug for the past few weeks but fortunately I’m on the mend. Who sent them? Is it that rascal Paulo? I told him I was feeling better.”
“He misses you,” Florence said with a smile.
“That man is crazy about you,” Arlene added. “I’m sure he’s upset that he wasn’t able to be here when you’ve been feeling so poorly.”
“That’s what he gets for going off without you to Mexico for ten days with his daughter,” Arlene said tartly.
“You should have gone with him. I know he asked you,” Florence said.
Birdie made a face. “I know. I wish I had said yes but the timing wasn’t the best, with the holidays and the market and everything. I’m glad I didn’t go with him now. I came down with this bug the day after he left and I would have been sick with the flu the whole time and ruined it for everyone.”
She made no move to take the flowers from him and Ryan wasn’t quite sure how to deliver them and make his escape.
“Um, there’s a card here. Would you like one of the ladies here to read it to you?”
She tilted her head and seemed to study him. He wondered how much she could see.
“No,” she said with a mischievous smile. “You have a sexy deep voice. Why don’t you read it?”
“If you like his voice that much, it’s too bad you can’t see the rest of him,” Florence said with the same kind of mischievous smile.
What was it about women of a certain age that made them so uninhibited—and so eminently likable?
He pulled the card out, cleared his throat and began to read.
To my dearest love,
Wishing you strength and sunshine to chase away the clouds. You are always in my heart.
With all my love, your Paulo
“Here you go,” he said, holding out the card close to her hand. She reached for it and clutched it to her heart with a happy sound.
“You need to put that poor man out of his misery and marry him already,” Arlene said gruffly.
Ryan laughed. “He doesn’t seem miserable to me. Seems like this Paulo is doing just fine, wearing his heart on his sleeve.”
“Don’t kid yourself, young man,” Florence said. “True love doesn’t come around often. If you’re lucky enough to find it, you grab hold and don’t let go. Otherwise, you blink, and life is gone.”
Her words landed heavier than Ryan expected. A quiet ache stirred in his chest, a flicker of awareness he couldn’t quite shake.
For so many years, he had been focused solely on his career.
The idea of love, of sharing his life with someone, wasn’t something he had let himself consider.
But as all three of the women’s gazes softened, eyes misty with a lifetime’s worth of stories, he wondered if he was missing something he hadn’t known to look for.
Ryan cleared his throat and smiled politely. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Thank you for delivering them. Let me find my purse so I can tip you.”
“Not necessary,” he assured her. “It was entirely my pleasure. It was nice to meet you all.”
“Definitely.” Florence beamed at him. “I would love to introduce you to my husband but he’s not here right now—he’s working at our booth at the Christmas market. Come back, though. I know he would love to talk to you.”
“I’ll do that,” he said, meaning the words.
As Ryan drove back to Evergreen & Ivy, the quiet hum of the engine seemed to underscore his thoughts.
The word community hung in his mind, sparked by Florence’s words and the way her face softened when she spoke about love. He’d never given it much thought before—not consciously, anyway—but now he couldn’t ignore the weight of its absence in his life.
He definitely had a community of sorts with the other navy personnel he worked with. Nothing threw people together like a long deployment on an aircraft carrier. But it wasn’t quite the same as the warmth and welcome he found here in Shelter Springs.
Growing up, his family had been in constant motion, chasing his father’s next assignment from one air base to another.
His mother had tried her best to make each house feel like home, putting up familiar curtains, setting out the same blue mug that held her coffee every morning. But it had never really been enough.
Ryan remembered the hesitant smile she wore when she introduced herself to yet another neighbor, and the way her laughter never quite reached her eyes at those base gatherings.
Kim had hated it even more. The tears, the slammed doors, the way she would throw herself into a new school year with a chip on her shoulder, knowing it wouldn’t last. She had longed for roots, for stability—and now, looking back, Ryan wondered if maybe she had been right to want those things.
Community mattered.