Now I only had to wait until Owen realized it too.
Content creation for brandswas fun and all, but sometimes, I tended to get a little exhausted by being a cog in the machine. When I first started renovating my house, I took on any partnership opportunity that came my way, simply to grow my following. As I got bigger, I was able to start being more selective, and now I only took on projects with brands I truly believed in who had a solid mission statement and were primarily female led.
Still, there had been something missing. And it wasn’t until I was at the bakery one day, chatting with Brie about how she should let me do some content creation for her, and Fanny from the flower shop overheard, that I realized what it was.
Over the last few years, what started as shooting a few videos of Fanny and Ella making floral arrangements for a wedding and posting them on Fanny’s severely neglected Instagram page had morphed into me helping all local businesses increase their online presence.
So now, I was the unofficial Apple Blossom Bay Chamber ofCommerce social media manager. It was a title I wore proudly—and free of charge. I loved being able to help my community in this small way, and I happily took my payment in the form of the occasional fresh floral arrangement, complimentary cup of coffee, or sandwich from the diner when I stopped by for lunch. It wasn’t like I needed the money anyway, and accepting any sort of wage from the people of Apple Blossom Bay wouldn’t have sat right with me.
While I waited for Owen to pull his head out of his ass, I decided it would be the perfect time to walk around town and prepare some posts. I lived only a few blocks off Main Street and, though the season was definitely shifting toward cooler and cozier months, it was still warm out, the sun shining brightly through the trees lining my yard. I dropped my bags off in my office, then turned right around and headed downtown.
Despite the fact that Labor Day had come and gone, the sidewalks of the main drag were still filled with people, mainly young couples without children or older ones whose children had moved on with their own families. As I weaved through them, intent on my destination of Blossom’s, the flower shop where my youngest sister worked, I inhaled deeply and released it in a happy sigh, a smile blooming on my face.
The smile grew into an outright grin as I opened the faded, sunshine yellow door to Blossom’s, the oxidized copper bell over the door tinkling joyously to greet me.
“I’ll be right out!” my sister shouted from the back, so I took a minute to weave through the aisles while I waited, taking in the new plants and trinkets they’d added since the last time I’d been here.
My sister appeared, wearing a sage-green apron over black shorts and a white tank, her tattoos stark against her skin. Though still flushed with that Greek glow, she was paler than the rest of us, owing to the fact that she preferred to spend her time indoors reading or with her douchebag boyfriend.
Oops, did I say douchebag?
I meant complete asshole.
But you wouldn’t catch any of us telling her that.
Not that she’d listen anyway.
“Hey, kiddo,” I said brightly when she stopped in the middle of the store to stare at me, arms crossed over her chest.
“I’m barely a year younger than you,” she sniped, exactly as I knew she would.
With Chloe at twenty-nine and Brie at twenty-five, only four and a half years separated my oldest and youngest sisters. At twenty-seven, I fell smack dab in the middle of that chaos. Honestly, I didn’t know what my parents were thinking, having us all so close together, and I definitely didn’t want to think about the fact that they spent the entire latter half of the nineties procreating.
I shook off a shiver and offered Ella my most winning smile.
“What’re you up to today?” I asked her.
“Getting some arrangements ready for Mr. and Mrs. Tuggle’s anniversary party this weekend.”
“Oh!” I exclaimed. “I forgot that was this weekend. God, my street is going to be undriveable.”
“You can come hang out here if you want,” Ella said with a shrug.
I smiled at my sister. “I just might take you up on that. Wecould have a movie night!”
Ella's face broke into a grin and, given her typically sullen expression, it was like the sun coming out after endless days of grey.
“We can invite everyone and binge popcorn and candy!”
“Sounds perfect, El,” I said warmly. “I’ll let you drop the idea in the group chat.”
Before we could make further plans, an elderly voice floated to us from the back.
“Is that Delia Delatou I hear?”
“Hi, Fanny!” I shouted, and a moment later, the woman appeared.
As usual, her shock of white hair was coiled in a bun atop her head, though I knew if she let it down, it would hang to her waist. She wore one of her standard floor-length cotton dresses in a floral pattern, the short sleeves exposing her deeply tanned and freckled arms from years spent in the sun among the blooms. When the weather got colder, she’d switch it out for a long sleeve one, but to this day—and I’ve known the woman for probably twenty years—I’ve never seen her wear pants.
