Chapter Twenty-One
I arrived at Enchanted Blossoms as the sun crested the rooftops. The only way I could face the early hour was armed with a latte, a bag of scones, and determination.
The scones were a peace offering to Rylyn.
Morning light spilled across the black and white tile floor, creating slashes of light and catching on colorful vases in the nearby case. Inside, the shop smelled like earth and greenery and possibility.
And it was mine.
For the first time since Alice died, I didn’t hesitate on the threshold.
I flipped the sign to OPEN and claimed the day.
At the counter, I set down the coffee and scones and peered at the mess of handwritten invoices. Rylyn had been busy the last few days while I was trying to save the town from impending doom. Guilt slashed through me at leaving her alone when she made her promise to stay through the summer.
Then I wandered to the back to check inventory.
The coolers were filled with the usual. Roses, lilies, carnations in various colors.
The work table in the back was littered with greenery, baby’s breath, floral tape, and flower petals.
As if Rylyn didn’t have the wherewithal to clean up after a long day.
More guilt.
The bell signaled an arrival. I turned toward the door and saw Rylyn standing there staring at me with an unreadable expression. She was still dressed in the goth attire. Black clothes from head to toe, black choker. Heavy eyeliner and black lipstick and her hair cascading over her shoulders.
“You decided to show up, huh?”
The girl wasn’t going to make this easy on me.
I walked from the coolers to the front of the store, the click-click of my kitten heels the only sound on the tile. I regretted the shoes immediately.
I’d been thinking about what to say to her since last night. I could make excuses and tell the girl I’d been busy, but excuses were no longer going to cut it.
“Rylyn, I’m sorry,” I said and meant it. “I should have been here. It won’t happen again.”
“You should have.” The girl gave a jerky nod.
I reached for the bag of scones and held it out toward her. Her gaze flicked to the bag then back to my face.
“A peace offering,” I said. “Blueberry scones from Honey & Crumb.”
Her gaze went back to the bag as she considered the idea of what might be inside. Honey & Crumb had been in business since before I was born. It was absolutely legendary for its baked goods and run by Adelaide Collins for as long as I could remember.
“Honey & Crumb?” She stepped closer and took the bag from me. She opened the top, peered inside and then inhaled the buttery, sweet scent of blueberry. Then her gaze flicked back up to me. “My favorite. How did you know?”
The truth was, I didn’t. But I smiled anyway.
“Lucky guess. I promise to do better,” I said.
Rylyn reached into the bag and pulled out a scone. She broke off a corner and popped it into her mouth, closing her eyes and savoring the flavor. She chewed, swallowed, then gave me a nod.
“Good. Let’s get to work.”
While she went to work checking phone orders and printing delivery tickets, I moved to the back to check the coolers.
The stems stood in deep plastic buckets, each one labeled in a precise hand with the delivery date. Roses in tight spirals. Lilies still closed and green. Carnations fluffed and cheerful despite their reputation.
I tugged open the cooler door and cold air rushed out, carrying the sharp, green scent of fresh-cut stems. Condensation slicked the metal shelves as I checked water levels out of habit, topping off a bucket here, stripping a yellowing leaf there.
The cooler hummed steadily—a sound I’d grown up with, familiar as breathing.
Everything looked right.
Almost.
A flower at the back of the cooler caught my eye. With the door open, I stared at it for a long moment, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.
It wasn’t anything I recognized. Not a rose, or a lily, or a carnation—or anything else I’d ever arranged. The neatly stacked stems sat in an unlabeled bucket. Several of the buds were still tightly closed, their petals sealed as if waiting.
But one or two were open.
Thriving.
As if the cold was giving them life.
I reached for one in full bloom. The instant my fingers closed around the stem, a sensation shot up my arm—familiar enough to make my breath catch. Not unlike what I’d felt at the Crossroads the night before.
Similar.
But different.
Purer. Cleaner.
I glanced toward the front of the shop. Rylyn was busy rotating the window display, oblivious.
I closed the cooler door and studied the flower in my hand.
The petals were delicate—pale pink brushed with the faintest hint of blue, their edges translucent, curling upward instead of outward. They smelled faintly of rain and stone rather than pollen or sweetness.
And even as I watched, the bloom began to sag.
I opened the cooler and returned it to the bucket.
The petals lifted.
Color deepened.
Alive again.
I frowned.
As if being out of the cooler wasn’t what it wanted at all.
The door chime sounded and then the sound of a familiar voice drifted through the shop. My head snapped up.
There he was. Standing at the front of the counter, hands in jeans pockets, chatting easily with Rylyn. And Rylyn, leaning toward him… flirting? Twirling a lock of hair around her forefinger. Laughing at something he said while he smiled that smile he gave everyone.
And then he saw me.
His expression shifted. Recognition lit his eyes. The smile he gave me was different. As if he’d been waiting to see me, and now that he had everything else faded.
Rylyn straightened, cut a glance back over her shoulder and then drifted away from the counter. She busied herself at one of the displays keeping her head tipped enough to eavesdrop.
I made my way to the front, my heart doing a ridiculous dance in my chest.
“Hi,” I said. “What brings you here?”
“Thought I’d come by and pick up that thing,” he said. “Save you a trip after working all day.”
That thing. The Sun Disk. My gaze flicked to the antique store across the street. “It’s not like it’s out of the way.”
Owen shrugged like it was a great excuse to come by and see me.
“It’s in my trunk.” I was already reaching for my keys before my decision was made. “I’ll get it.”
“I’ll come with you.”
Like he sensed goth girl listening in and didn’t like it.
“I’ll be right back, Rylyn.”
“Sure.” Her tone was bored and annoyed.
Owen followed me out of the shop into the mid-morning heat to my car parked on the side of the building.
“You two make up?” he asked.
“Sort of. I bribed her with scones.”
“A good bribe if they came from Honey & Crumb.”
“Of course.” I flashed a smile as I popped the trunk.
The Sun Disk lay wrapped in a dish towel between a tire iron and a jack—ridiculous and sacred at the same time. I lifted it out carefully. Even in daylight it seemed to hold a faint warmth, like it remembered the earth answering my hands.
“Here you go.”
When he grasped it, his hand lingered a second longer than necessary. He didn’t tug it away, just held it while he held my eyes.
“Dad wants it back in the shop,” he said quietly. “And… I wanted to see you.”
My heart did a ridiculous dance in my chest.
Then he added, like it was no big thing, “Come to dinner.”
“Dinner?” My heart kicked into overdrive. “Tonight?”
“Sunday,” he corrected. Like he’d changed his mind last minute. “After church. At my parents’.”
Oh.
That wasn’t dinner. That was intention. That was intimate.
“At your parents?” I repeated as if I couldn’t grasp the concept.
Sunday after church dinner was the kind of invitation that screamed I more than like you and I want them to know it. And maybe even I want them to approve.
Of course, I knew Dougal McAllister, but I hadn’t seen Madeline McAllister since high school graduation. Last I heard Owen’s mother was fighting a battle with cancer.
A hot flash seared through me.
Oh, I was so not ready for that.
“Don’t answer now,” he said, perhaps sensing my commitment phobia. “Think about it.”
I swallowed hard. “Okay.”
He slid the Sun Disk fully into his grip. “Oh—and tomorrow, Mrs. Rollins can see us at one.”
The grimoire. I’d forgotten about it until that moment. “Tomorrow?”
“I’ll pick you up.”
He flashed a grin as he started back across the street to the antique store.
I stood unmoving, my breath stilled and my heart racing. He’d hit me with all he had, smiled, and walked away.
If his plan was to throw me off kilter, it worked.
Finally, I closed the trunk and headed back inside. A numb feeling took up residence in my chest. Rylyn finished up her phone order and hung up.
“What’s wrong with you? Mr. Perfect asked you out or something?”
Rylyn said it like she could sense the unease rolling off me. Did I look that out of sorts? I certainly felt out of sorts.
Though I didn’t know why. It was Owen, for Pete’s sake.
“Yes,” I said absently.
Rylyn blinked, surprised that her sarcasm-laced barb was true. “You said yes, right? You’d be crazy not to say yes.”
There was a bit of longing in the girl’s voice.
“I didn’t say yes. Or no.”
She sucked in a breath. “Wow. You said nothing? Ouch. Poor guy.” She started toward the back of the shop. “Delivery is here. I’ll get it. Your turn to man the front.”
And then she was gone leaving me to contemplate the consequences of my non-answer—and why something as simple as dinner felt so complicated.
I shoved away the thoughts. I had work to do and that didn’t include pining away for my high school crush.
Which I seriously thought I was over.
Thank goodness a customer came in to distract me. Mr. Evans was a haggard old man with a squint and frizzy gray hair about his head. And though he looked like Scrooge’s brother on his best day, he was a kind soul.
“Well, I’ll be. Look who it is!”
“Hi, Mr. Evans.” I couldn’t stop the eruption of a smile. “How are you?”
“Come here and let me hug your neck, girl.” He waved me around the counter.
Laughing, I walked around the counter to hug him. He smelled like old wood. Then he held me at arm’s length to get a good look at me. Mr. Evans taught World History at the high school but had long since retired. Owen and I were both in his class when we were juniors.
“Heard you were back,” he said with a nod. “Thought it was a story.”
“Not a story, Mr. Evans. I’m back.”
He leaned in close. “Say, sorry to hear about Alice, God rest her. She was a real gem.”
“She was.” I swallowed hard, then steered the conversation back to business. If not, he’d stand there all day and chat. “What can I do for you?”
“It’s my anniversary. Fifty years! Can you believe it?” He laughed and scratched at the stubble on his chin. “Hard to believe the old girl put up with me for so long.”
“Well, then. Let’s make Mrs. Evans something special,” I said, reaching for the order book.
“Nah, don’t go to any trouble. I know what she likes.” He shuffled to the display case and picked up a white vase full of vibrant stargazer lilies.
He prattled on about nonsense as I rang him up and he paid in cash—a hundred-dollar bill, of all things. I opened the cash drawer to give him change. But I had to lift the tray to get to the extra twenties. When I did, I froze.
A scrap of paper was nestled under the bills, the edge peeking out. The familiar handwriting hit me cold in the chest.
Mr. Evans didn’t notice as he continued to talk about the latest shenanigans with his chickens.
I quickly counted out the change and handed him the bills, the coins, and the receipt. I wanted to shoo him out of the shop so I could investigate that paper closer.
“Have a great day, Mr. Evans, and congrats again,” I said warmly, but my heart was racing like it was about to beat out of my chest.
He started to leave but then paused at the door and turned back. “Whatever happened with you and that Owen McAllister? Nice, good-looking kid.”
I flushed. “Happened?”
“You two always in competition.” He chuckled then. “Thought you’d end up together somehow.”
Oh, for the love of—
“Hoped you would anyway,” he added as an afterthought.
My mouth turned dry. “You did?”
“You two seemed to fit. Welp, I better run. I’m having my annual summer barbecue next weekend. Y’all should come.”
Y’all—me and Owen.
“Oh, I—”
And then he was out the door before I could decline.
As soon as he was gone, I opened the cash drawer and picked up the tray. The scrap was still there. I hadn’t imagined it. I slid it out with shaking fingers and stared down at the familiar handwriting.
It was Alice’s.