Chapter 16 – Violet
Igrinned after hanging up on Lee. It had been a few days since he’d finally admitted he was part of the high school shenanigans, and I still wasn’t over it.
He was about to learn that he should have treated me better in high school.
Maybe it was petty and counterproductive to punish him now.
But he hadn’t cried into his pillow after working up the courage to ask a guy to the school dance only to see the look of horror as my crush said, “Not with your brothers.”
I’d had plenty of time to strike back at Drew and Zach. Lee was fresh meat.
Restocking the shelves with the Island Salts savory blends took me the better part of the last hour of my day. I brewed tea and sold the last of my pastries in between opening cases.
The bell over the door tinkled, and I looked up from my spot on the floor.
“Be just a sec,” I called, not quite able to see.
I pushed to my feet, popping up above the salted caramel display to find Joe from the local flower shop grinning at me over a bouquet of daffodils and narcissus.
The perennial twinkle in his eye and a backward baseball cap made him look younger than his fifty-plus years.
“Delivery for Violet Fenwick. Where would you like me to put them?”
A pop of pleasure filled my lungs. Flowers were always welcome.
“Those are beautiful. Thanks, Joe. The counter would be great.”
“And what about the rest?”
I blinked. The rest?
“Who are they from? The flowers won’t fit on the counter?”
My birthday wasn’t for another week. It would be like my mom to send me a bouquet a week early, so I could enjoy them up to the day. It would be even more like Gran, who’d enjoy telling me I was fading like a flower on my actual birthday, then cackle like a madwoman.
Joe chuckled. Maybe not as maniacally as Gran, but his gentle chortle made me feel like I’d missed the punchline. “You’re going to need to make room.”
“Just bring them in, and I’ll find space. Thanks.”
I reached for the card nestled among the cheerful yellow blooms. Roses are red, violets are blue, this is a cliché, but I’m sorry I fucked up with you.
Oh, Lee. He didn’t just send me flowers for the first time – he sent me an army of them. Was it a peace offering for the past? The over-the-top gesture was the kind of thing I’d do. What did it mean that he’d adopted my tactics?
Joe brought in two bouquets on the second trip. Two more on the third. I frantically cleared space, placing vases on display tables. By the time he finished, the Salty Pantry looked more like a florist than a specialty spice store. And I loved it.
Daffodils didn’t smell the best, but you couldn’t beat them for pure cheer. They were sunshine in flower form, and thanks to Lee, I had enough to get a sunburn indoors. One bouquet says I’m sorry. But a dozen?
This wasn’t the plan. He was supposed to grovel. Not charm. For a moment, I felt guilty about taking his laptop. It was his lifeline to his work. If I kept it too long, he’d be behind on his deadlines. Maybe I’d gone too far.
But then I looked around at sunshine blooming in every corner of my store. Maybe we both needed a little shake-up. The man was injured and needed to rest. Plus, doing a little penance for high school transgressions was character-building. It might be the only way for us to deal with our past.
And having him dress as his high-school self was only step one.
I opened the WNFH page on my phone and scrolled to the original anonymous post. Half the town had jumped on the opportunity to post throwback photos, including Josie from the moped rental place, who still rocked her cheerleading uniform in ways guaranteed to turn heads.
Will Guzman couldn’t resist one-upping her; he’d unearthed a long wig and gone full grunge.
But the picture I wanted the most wasn’t in the thread.
I added another post, this one less subtle.
His laptop with a sticky note that said “most likely to make a living killing people” on top of a collection of high school memorabilia.
I tucked my phone under the register and nudged a flower bouquet back from the edge of a display table before it toppled.
The shop bell tinkled, and a tall man in a beanie and thick-soled boots ducked through the door. He shuffled around the store, his back to me. Something about the set of his shoulders made me tense, watching him. He appeared almost alert. Like he was waiting for an opening.
Theft on the island was rare – after all, where would you go with your stolen loot?
Without your own getaway boat, you’d be a sitting duck for law enforcement.
But he wasn’t exhibiting regular tourist behavior either.
No idle questions. No samples. Really, that was a dead giveaway.
Who wouldn’t try a sea salt caramel when I offered them so freely? A monster — that was who.
Slowly, I sidled to the counter and my phone.
Maybe I was being silly. Lee would be my first choice of caller, but he wasn’t exactly mobile at the moment.
That left Zach, Gran, or the sheriff as my next line of defense.
While Gran would gleefully sit in the Adirondacks outside, Thumper across her thighs as a silent warning, the sheriff would have thoughts about her showing off her shotgun in town.
And Gran didn’t need another visit to the county jail.
Zach would pop by if I called. He’d probably only tease me for three months for a false alarm.
The door dinged again, this time admitting a gray-haired couple.
I pasted on a smile, my shoulders relaxing as the dark man slipped out of the shop in the wake of their entrance.
I’d probably wound myself up over nothing.
Not every enigmatic stranger was casing the joint.
It wasn’t like I had much to steal, other than cash.
Salt and spices weren’t exactly easily portable.
Rolling my shoulders, I stood taller and smiled. “Is there anything I can help you find?” I waved a hand at the bouquets. “We don’t usually have so many flowers in here. Let me know if you need help reaching anything.”
“They’re lovely, dear. I take it there’s a special man in your life?” The older woman’s eyes twinkled. “Lucky you.” She squeezed her companion’s hand. “Why don’t you buy me flowers like that anymore, honey?”
Her partner’s brows beetled. Sensing he was about to make an excuse to leave, I rushed to speak. “We have wonderful local caramels. They’re the perfect treat for your sweetheart. Three flavors,” I added with a helpful smile.
He harrumphed, his face softening into an indulgent smile as he looked down at his wife. “Then I’d better buy all three.” He tilted his chin toward the nearest bouquet. “Gotta keep up with Mr. Impossible Standard over here.”
His wife snuggled into his shoulder, stretching up to kiss his weathered cheek. He brushed his hand over the place, like even after all these years, he still treasured every kiss.
I packaged their purchases and ran his card, trying to control the sentimental part of me that got misty-eyed over them holding hands. She winked, her grin taking on a saucy edge as she accepted the bag of caramels. “Enjoy your evening – and your young man.”
They stepped outside, his hand gently escorting her down the stairs to the street, drawing my gaze to the man in the beanie who lingered there. My misgivings from earlier returned. He was there again. Watching. Waiting. And this time, I didn’t think it was over nothing.