Chapter 9
The end of the week and weekend passed with no more hiccups. Lark and I settled in at the B&B, and I even unpacked my suitcase. The simple room with its dark wood and soft ivory colors is slowly creeping toward feeling as though it’s mine.
It isn’t, and I’m not blind enough not to acknowledge that, but I folded my clothing, what clothing I have here, and set them in the drawers. Saffron showed us where the washer and dryer were. All simple things that slipped my mind as we struggled to make sense of everything that occurred.
Lark made a new friend, a loud, bubbly, and snarky child whom I can’t decide if I’m going to love or be very cautious of. Lark was so excited that Torrie offered to meet her this morning, she’s been bouncing around since the alarm went off.
“It’s so nice having bacon and eggs for breakfast.” She beams at me, her old green backpack hanging off her shoulder as we make our way down the road.
“Toaster Strudels hold all the important ingredients. They are just as good of a breakfast as bacon and eggs,” I argue without heat because we both know that they definitely are not as good as bacon and eggs. I’m just partial to the sweet stuff.
“Mom.” Unimpressed, Lark wrinkles her face up, smashing all her freckles together. “You know what I mean.”
“Do I?”
“Do you ever look at the sugar content in those?”
“Why would I taint the fantasy?”
Her eye roll is damn near audible. “It’s a treat, like a dessert.”
“You never complained before?”
“That’s because the only option I had was diner food for breakfast or Toaster Strudels.”
“I cook.”
Her laughter spills over us with a snort, echoing off the now snow free trees. “Last time you tried to cook, you set the stove on fire.”
“How do you know that wasn’t just a ploy to see Steve again?” I elbow her as I wag my brows at the mention of the most beautiful creature in all of Atlanta—Firefighter Steve.
“He caught on to your antics, you know.”
“It was only a matter of time.” I sigh wistfully as I kick a stone down the road.
The little town comes into view first, with the mural of flowers and the painted sign for Bloom.
A part of me is terribly curious to meet the woman who ensnared Arlo’s heart.
I didn’t miss the heartache there, or just how much he once loved her.
Or maybe I’m sadistic and curious to meet her for comparison reasons. I am a hot mess mom, and she owns a flower shop.
“What are you scowling at? The flower shop?” She hops up on the sidewalk, startling me out of my imaginary scenarios.
“I was thinking about getting you flowers for your first day of school.” It’s a terrible attempt at a cover, and suspicion crosses Lark’s face.
“You never bought me flowers before.”
“I never walked past a flower shop before.” The lies burn my tongue.
Her hum of suspicion makes it clear she isn’t buying it. “Come on, how much time do we have before the bell rings?”
“We are already late, and you will be too if you don’t hurry.
” Lark pauses at the end of the sidewalk, where a stout man with a bright white bushy beard in a yellow vest holds his hand out for the nonexistent cars so kids can cross.
She looks at the moose on the side of the school, then to the front doors where teachers and Seraphina greet students.
Catching her eye, Seraphina waves, but Lark just continues to stand there.
“This is it,” she says.
“Yep, better scoot and get your learning on!” I pat her shoulder before giving her a side hug.
“I’m nervous.”
“Why?” In all her years, Lark has never hesitated on anything. Not her first steps, not her first day of kindergarten. Never. Until now.
“I don’t know, it feels different.” She gazes up at me with those beautiful brown eyes of hers.
“Different how? It’s just a school, kiddo.” Just another school in a sea of schools across the country. I glance from her to the school, then back to her, trying to understand what makes this moment so different.
“Never mind,” she mutters before trying to step off the curb.
“Oh, no you don’t.” I grab her backpack and tug her backwards. “What is it?”
“Are you sure you want to know?”
No. “Of course.”
“It feels like home.”
“Atlanta?”
“No, Mom. It feels like home. This town, this school, this place. It just feels right.” She shrugs again, dislodging my hand from her backpack. “When I look at that school, I can imagine myself walking out of there with a cap and gown on.”
“Oh.” All my words become a jumbled dictionary in my head, the pages torn from their binding as I try to gauge just how to react to that statement.
I know Lark loves it here, but I didn’t realize she had already found what she considered forever in a matter of days.
I don’t want to destroy her dream, and I don’t want to lie to her.
She knows this wasn’t the plan, and though my new job in Maine doesn’t start until January, I can’t give her the fantasy either.
“Yeah.” Snark slips from her as she darts across the street, not once looking back at me.
Inside, my emotions rage at me. One side of the coin flares with anger that I didn’t tell her what she wanted to hear, and the other side says I should never lie to her.
“What was that about?” Arlo steps up to me, holding two coffee cups in his hands as he points one at Lark.
“Is that for me?” I ask.
“Yeah.” Jerking his head to the garage, he asks, “Got a minute?”
“Were you waiting for me, Arlo Larson?”
“Nope.” Keys jangle in his hands as he turns the lock and opens up his shop.
“Not buying it,” I tease, helping him flip on all the lights. I set my coffee on the counter before flipping the sign to “Open” as Arlo heads in the back, ignoring me. I drift around the counter, turning on the register and the neon lights that say “Garage.”
“So here’s the issue.” He walks out from the back, his hands already somehow covered in grease while still holding a cup of coffee in one hand and a tablet in the other. “The part I need should be here in a few days, but I start my lessons today.”
Grabbing my coffee, I prop myself up on a stool as Arlo sets up his tablet. “Okay, so what did you need to talk to me about?”
“It’s going to sound absurd.”
“Try me.”
“I don’t know how to work the video thing.” Setting everything on the counter, he flails his hands in the air. “My sisters all just laughed at me before hanging up on me. I asked my twin, Autumn.”
I laugh. “You’re a twin!”
“Fraternal,” he growls. “She laughed at me and told me to watch a how-to video, but she didn’t once tell me how to find the how-to videos. It’s a vicious cycle, and I’m lost. Even the townsfolk laughed at me. My business partner, Spock—”
Tears stream from my eyes. “Spock?”
“Yeah, that’s his nickname. Anyway, not even he would help me.
He stared at me like I’m crazy. I had to drive two hours yesterday into the city just to buy this thing, and no one will help me set it up aside from the store I purchased it from.
They set it up so I can at least use the darn thing, but…
” He glances at me, his rant fading as he looks at me with a desperation of the technologically impaired.
“How do you not know how to work technology?” Holding my laughter back, I swipe away my tears as I grab the tablet from him.
“I never had a need for it,” he grumbles, back to his grumpy personality that is more like a hangry raccoon.
“Okay.” I swallow any snarky comment. “Do you have Wi-Fi?”
“What’s that?”
“You know, I honestly can’t tell if you are even serious.”
“I’m not, that was a joke,” he grumbles before waving his hand back at the tablet.
“It’s hard to tell.”
“I’m logged into that.”
“Spock did it, didn’t he?” I honestly have no idea, but I just wanted to say his name again.
“Can you get me set up?” He grips the counter across from me, his muscles flexing as he leans in and back.
“Yes.” I glance at the clock. “You’re lucky I have time before my first shift at the library.”
“I appreciate this.” His voice softens, and for a moment, a brief flutter rises in my stomach.
Nodding, I glance at the tablet. Setting him up with an app he can use for his lessons isn’t hard. What proves difficult is Arlo hovering over me before pacing and hovering again.
Maybe that’s why I set his passwords as red-flannel-knight-one. I don’t even feel bad about it either. Just as I’m about to push the tablet back over to him with five minutes to spare, the bell on the door jangles and a princess saunters in.
Her silky blonde hair flows in waves to a tiny waist. I’m instantly envious of her, and I try not to pat my own curls to check for a frizziness level. I woke up at a crucial level five—already untamable.
Her eyes sparkle, freaking sparkle, with the palest blue irises.
That, combined with her delicate features and pink Cupid’s bow lips, means she really looks like a fairy princess.
Plus, she’s short and dainty and wearing heels, which means she’s even shorter.
I didn’t know adults came in that size, and I feel instant shame for thinking that.
She smiles at me with perfect white teeth that gleam. Wearing a casual pair of jeans and a black turtleneck, she exudes confidence that makes me jealous.
“You must be Wren,” she gushes, and I’m positive she is genuine about that. “Oh, it’s incredible to finally meet you.” I swear this fairy squeals and thunders past Arlo to sweep me into her arms.
This beautiful stranger hugs me as though I’m a long-lost kitten, then she hugs me tighter as I awkwardly pat her back. Eyes wide, I stare at Arlo, who stands frozen in shock.
Eventually, this crazy cat lady pulls back, her smile never wavering, not even at my awkwardness.
“Bloom,” Arlo says, backing himself into a corner.
My eyes light up in recognition. “Bridget?” I ask.
Her smile turns excitable, like a golden retriever. “You’ve heard of me. How exciting.”