1. Julia
Chapter One
JULIA
Working in a flower shop isn’t ideal when you’re mildly allergic to lilies.
Roses - fine, lilies - instant sneeze party.
It’s the run-up to Valentine’s Day and things are much busier than usual here at Caputo’s, with the emphasis on roses and romantic bouquets. But still, someone always has to get cute and add some lilies, resulting in watering eyes on my part.
Still, I don’t have much choice right now.
I finished my English degree last summer and I’ve been working at our family’s store in Snowflake Falls while I apply for jobs.
My mom always says Snowflake has a way of making things happen romantically, but that’s because she came here to see a cousin and ended up meeting my Dad, so she’s biased.
I’ve probably inherited my romantic streak from her though - it was like conditioning in our family with the cheesy romantic movies, giant cards on Valentine’s Day and the constant chatter about who’s seeing who in the town. She might be a gossip but my Mom’s heart is in the right place.
Apart from trying to set me up with guys I’m not interested in, that is.
My favorite part of working in the shop is writing the cards - it was my idea to offer customers the option of a poem to go with their flowers.
I’m working on a card a local farmer is sending to his new girlfriend, which has to say something about tractors and classical music. That’s all I have to go on.
I stare out the window from the front desk as I work on the verse:
My love, you have my heart.
So, if you come for a ride on my tractor,
We can listen to Chopin or Mozart
And live happily ever after.
Oh, dear. That’s not right. I stare into the street, where the snow is falling in a half-hearted way that makes a change from the heavy snowstorms we had at Christmas and New Year.
A delivery truck pulls up outside. Next door is the Montag delivery business, so this happens all day.
The Caputos and the Montags don’t see eye to eye.
My dad and Mr. Montag fell out while I was at college and Dad ran for Mayor and won.
We used to work with them day in and day out for the flower deliveries, but that’s not happening anymore.
It’s kind of awkward as they’re still next door, but there’s a frosty silence if any of our families bump into each other.
There’s a tall, built guy unloading something out of the back.
I sit up straighter to get a better view. Through the falling snowflakes, his broad shoulders are flexing through his jacket as he carries a big box from the truck.
Oh wow. This guy is perfection in a snow jacket.
Who is he? I’d have spotted that huge 6’4” frame and dark hair before.
He’s got to be new in town. He looks like he’s stepped out of an action movie onto the snowy street.
He’s too far away to tell the color of his eyes but his jaw is chiseled, his cheekbones are sculpted and he moves with a kind of athletic grace.
His eyes dart up. Damn. He must have sensed me staring at him. I hide behind a bouquet of lilies and try to stifle a sneeze.
Delivery dude, you are so cute.
Can I come for a ride in your truck?
We can go down a whole new route
And have fun while we f…
Now I’m getting distracted. I peek out from behind the lilies and he’s gone inside. I resist the urge to go to the window and press my nose against it to see what he’s doing next door. I’m sure a Montag would spot me and give me the evil eye for just existing.
I need to get busy shutting up shop before my friend Bette arrives. We’re going to the Snowflake Falls Masked Ball tonight, held every year and hosted by my Dad in his role as the mayor, and I need to hustle if I’m going to be ready in time.
“Oh, Julia - look at you!” Bette lets out a low whistle as she walks through the door. “That dress is perfect.”
I’m pleased she approves since Bette Bells is a bit of a connoisseur of fashion.
She’s a big deal on Instagram and usually, she’s the one stealing the spotlight.
I spent a while choosing this dress - it’s a low-cut, silky white gown which goes perfectly with my sparkly silver eye mask.
I’ve dressed my hair in loose curls and have a fake fur stole to go with it.
It’s pretty over the top, but if you can’t be a bit extra for a masquerade ball, when can you be?
“Thanks, Betts, you look amazing.” She does, in a black jumpsuit with a matching rhinestone-encrusted black eye mask.
“Let’s hope there are some fresh guys there tonight.
I feel like everyone in Snowflake is happily coupled up.
First Neva gets shacked up with Elden, and then Taylor falls head over heels for Miles.
My sisters are falling like dominoes but where’s my romantic happy ending?
” She makes a grimace that looks ridiculous on her pretty face.
“Have faith. There’s someone for everyone. Remember that ‘the course of true love never did run smooth…’ I smile at her and raise an eyebrow.
“Is that Romeo and Juliet, college girl?” Bette’s smiling now.
“No, it’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. It’s more of a comedy. Romeo and Juliet is a tragedy. And it will be a tragedy, forsooth, if we’re late.” I flap my mask at her.
“Ok, brainiac. Let’s hustle.” Bette strides out the door, slipping very slightly on the snow in her heels. I can’t face high heels, so I’ve worn flats so my feet don’t hurt tonight.
Arriving at the town hall, it’s been transformed with colored lights and flowers in a huge arch over the door.
Inside, there’s a violet glow which lights up everyone’s costumes.
Flowers from Caputo’s are arranged artfully - by my Mom, not me - in strategic positions where they’ll get the most attention.
My Mom comes to greet us. Even with a mask on, there’s no escaping her maternal radar. She’s in a neon green evening gown that’s so bright it means she can be seen by everyone in a five-mile radius.
“Hey girls. You both look beautiful. Can I get you something to drink?” She gestures at the bar.
“Hey, Mrs. Caputo. No worries, I’ll grab Jules and me a drink.” Bette slinks off to the bar, attracting admiring glances as she works her way through the crowd.
“Honey, I want you to meet someone. You see that guy over there?” My mom very obviously points to a guy in a bright blue suit.
He’s groomed within an inch of his life and although he’s handsome has that sophisticated, rich-and-I-know-it energy.
Not my type. “That’s Mr. Paris. He’s made a lot of money doing something in cryptocurrency and now he’s going to invest in the town.
Stay here and I’ll bring him over.” She doesn’t give me the chance to answer and strides off in his direction.
I look over to the bar, where Bette is deep in conversation with the cute bartender. No rescue there. My mom has reached Mr. Paris, who looks over at me and nods.
Oh no. This feels like a setup.
Pity. It seems like a waste of a party.