Chapter 2
Move-In Day
Holly
Excited anticipation and nervous anxiety war in my gut as I drive into the main part of town, but I can’t stop grinning. Even though I’ve officially lived here for a few months now, I still can’t get over how freaking adorable Pineberry Springs is.
I’ve mostly been in hermit mode, setting up my new house and tending to my plants, so I’ve barely interacted with anyone in person here yet—just the grocer, the people at the bank and the post office, and the guy who owns the local mercantile—but the folks I’ve met so far have been incredibly nice. Friendly. Helpful. Seemingly sincere.
I don’t quite trust it yet, but I want to.
I also know that might take time. Healing, like growth, is far from linear, and I’m still deep in my crucible of healing right now unfortunately, but things are getting better.
So far, this town is everything I’d hoped it would be when I purchased my new house and that space downtown—small, cute, and quiet.
Nothing like Denver, where I moved here from. Or even San Francisco, where I grew up.
The best thing about this place, though? It’s a fresh start. A clean slate from which to build the life I want to live. One that can be whatever I want it to be.
One that is unequivocally mine.
While it’s a little daunting to be the new girl in town, there’s also something so freeing about the fact that no one knows me here. No one knows who I am, what I’m capable of, who my family is, who I dated before… or how he wrecked my life.
Thank the Goddess for that.
It’s nice walking around like a free person, without a sympathetic look in sight or anyone asking in hushed tones if I’m okay.
And for the first time in close to a year, I actually feel like I’m okay.
More than okay.
Maybe even good.
My cousin Amber’s words float into my head as I stop at a tiny intersection to let a woman and her dog cross the street.
“Get busy living, or get busy dying. The time’s gonna pass either way.”
The woman gives me a friendly wave, and I smile and wave back, feeling somehow lighter for the random interaction with a seemingly kind stranger.
“I’m busy living,” I remind myself, proceeding further into town. “For real this time.”
And I really am.
As much as I miss my mother, Goddess rest her soul, the inheritance that transferred to me when she passed a few years ago made it possible to get a clean break from my failed business venture and life in Denver.
Sabotaged, more like, but that’s in the past, and I promised myself I’d not dwell on the past. My abusive ex doesn’t deserve even a retrospective, especially after everything he put me through.
I inhale deeply, re-centering myself, and speak three things I’m grateful for to bring me back into this moment.
“A place for all my plants, a fresh start, a new community to serve.”
I’m also grateful for the construction team that handled getting the property downtown up to code and renovated for my new floral boutique so it was move-in ready.
I’ve been moving the plants I’ve been hot-housing at home all winter over to the shop for the last week, but I mostly do it at night so I don’t have to interact with the locals yet.
I like it here, but I don’t want a ton of questions.
Not until I’m ready to open my shop. And even then, I’m hoping no one asks anything too personal.
Today, though, I need to do the window signage, and I need the sunlight for that job, so I make sure to put the decal in the right place. Which is why I’m driving through downtown in the morning, rather than being at home with my plants, or on a video call with one of my cousins.
I just saw them all in person at Yule, and I stayed longer than usual since it’s so freaking cold here in the winter and I love that California sunshine, but I miss my cousins already. They’re like sisters to me, even if they did give me a hard time growing up.
I chuckle, thinking about that while heading down Main Street. I guess that’s what siblings do, isn’t it? Give each other a hard time.
They’ve been there for me when I’ve needed them, though. Especially lately, with my mother’s passing and then again with everything that happened in Denver, when my ex nearly broke me.
“And I’m grateful for that too,” I say aloud. “Incredibly so.”
Even though I never did The Proving, which is a rite of passage in our circle, and I’m essentially the wayward one, the others have reminded me time and again that I’m still family, even if I’m not officially part of the circle.
And our family takes care of each other, always. Another thing I’m grateful for.
Heck, Gayle is still making my ex suffer for what he did to me, and I have to admit, it’s nice having a lawyer in the family.
I wouldn’t have known all the things to charge that monster with, but Gayle took care of that.
She also took care of making sure the restitution payments get funneled straight to helping other people in similar situations, which was my wish.
I don’t want anything to do with my ex or his money, but I also never want another person to feel the way I did when I was with him.
Thank the Goddess that’s all behind me now.
I slow down as I pass the front of my new unit, right next to a homey-looking coffee shop called The Mountain Brew, and I can’t help grinning at the reality of opening my own floral boutique in the heart of this quaint little community.
It’s always been a dream of mine, and now it’s made manifest.
Well, almost. I’m not quite ready to open to the public yet, but that’s not the point.
“Get ready, Pineberry Springs,” I say to my plant-filled car. “There’s a new florist in town.”
I can’t contain my enthusiasm, and as I round the block and enter the staff parking lot, I’m grinning so wide my cheeks hurt.
I don’t care though. I’m getting closer to opening my very own shop, and that makes my heart sing.
The thought of sharing my flowers and making custom arrangements for the residents of this lovely little mountain town lights me up inside.
I park next to a shiny black Bronco decked out with brush guards and a winch, and those racks people use for camping on top of their car, and I grin even wider. Whoever owns that vehicle must love the outdoors as much as I do. My 4Runner has the same kit.
“This place is perfect for me,” I affirm aloud before climbing out and heading to unlock the greenhouse ahead of the latest batch of arrivals.
After opening things up, I head back to the car. My camellias greet me when I open the tailgate, their shiny green leaves and gorgeous pink, red, and yellow blooms a testament to how happy they are.
Just like me.
“Hello, beautifuls,” I coo, beaming back at them. “Welcome to your new home.”
It takes me several trips to unload all the plants, but the movement feels good, and I love seeing them take up residence in the greenhouse I’ve prepared for them.
With every trip here I’ve made over the last few weeks, and every plant placed, the space has felt cozier and more welcoming while becoming more and more vibrant. More mine.
Despite the chilly morning air, I’m a bit sweaty by the time I’ve gotten everyone settled into the greenhouse. It feels good, though. Reminds me I’m alive.
Busy living, as the saying goes.
I grab the last box out of my car and head into the shop—where I do a happy dance at how amazing it looks.
Everything, from the sales counter in front to the glass-fronted refrigerators lining the walls and the shop sink and workstation in the back, is exactly where I left it last time.
And even though I know it’s silly, especially since I designed it, I still can’t get over how perfect the place is.
A fresh wave of gratitude floods my being as I take in my new boutique, imagining all the people who will visit the space soon. All the people I can help with my gifts.
I honestly can’t wait.
On that note, I head back to the counter and open the box, fishing out the big decal for the front window, excited to put it up.
A sense of Knowing thrums through my system as I turn toward the front of the shop, and I realize there’s a vital ritual I’ve not completed yet today.
And today it feels even more important than usual.
I set the sign down on the counter and head to the back of the shop for the broom.
Sweeping is such a simple custom, but a powerful tradition among my family and our ancestors, and as I begin, I thank those who have swept before me.
I thank the spirits of the place. The land beneath my feet.
Those who have walked in this space before walls were built and tile laid.
I thank those who followed my designs to the letter and created this beautiful workplace.
I sweep for the cycles that have closed and are closing, making space for the new ones to come.
I sweep to cleanse the space of the old, and also to welcome the new.
My mother’s voice replays in my head as I guide the bristles of the broom over the polished floor, moving from the back of the shop toward the front door.
“Sweeping is the through line between then, now, and what is to come. We are timekeepers when we sweep. Place setters. Boundary makers. The broom is the shield, the sword, and the gateway. Use it wisely. Use it often. Use it well.”
I prop the front door open with a wedge and sweep the dust out, but I don’t stop there.
With the door still open, I sweep the entire threshold and the sidewalk in front of my flower shop, intentionally clearing any energetic obstacles to joy right along with the dust. Intentionally creating a path to abundance and delight, energetically inviting prosperity, health, and safety to take the place of what I am clearing.
I sweep in front of my neighbor’s door too, clearing the entire sidewalk in front of our shared storefront space in both directions. A blank slate. A fresh start. It feels auspicious.
Besides, it’s a neighborly thing to do.
I’m feeling even lighter when I return to my shop. More grounded. And with joy in my heart, I close the door and set to work on removing the giant sheets of paper currently covering the front windows, so I can clean them and put up my new sign.
The morning sunlight streams through the glass, and I smile again, appreciating the way it dances along the floor, making the artificial wood grain look like the real thing.
It might as well be actual wood for how gorgeous it is.
And I may as well be a bird instead of a woman for how buoyant and free I feel right now.
So happy I could sing.