“Of course you are, but that isn’t the point. The point is that I will open the door for you and offer you my hand so you can climb out of the car like the lady you are,” I insist.
Her cheeks glow pink, and a cute smile traces over her lips.
There is a light, slow-falling shimmer of snow in the air. It looks like glitter falling from the sky as I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her closer.
“I don’t want you to slip,” I tell her, but the truth is I just want her close to me.
“I never saw snow on the mountains like this. I love it,” she says thoughtfully, holding her gloved hand out to catch a snowflake.
“There’s nothing quite like it. Artur sure chose a remote place to experience it, though, didn’t he?” I muse.
“He did, but I’m happy about that. It’s something different. We could have gone on vacation to a tropical island or a fancy ski resort, but this experience is more unique,” she says.
“So you don’t mind that it’s not as fancy as a luxurious ski resort?”
“Not in the least!” she replies, confused.
I smirk and steer her toward a cozy little bookstore, but she’s got her eye on something else. “I want to go there!” she points across the street to a flower shop. “How do they have flowers here when it’s so cold?” she asks.
“Let’s go find out,” I reply, changing direction.
Inside the flower shop, there are gorgeous flowers in all colors. Bright blues, pinks, reds, yellows, and oranges are scattered throughout the store in buckets of water.
“Hello,” the older woman tending the flowers says, dusting her hands over her apron.
“It’s nice and warm in here,” Maria says, smiling at her.
“Oh yes, we have to keep the flowers happy,” the shopkeeper replies. “What can I help you two lovebirds with?” she asks, eyeing us.
I grin, happy to be called Maria’s lovebird.
“We’re exploring the village, and I had to come in here and look around,” Maria explains.
“How does it work?” I ask.
“You can select whatever you like and build your own arrangements,” she explains.
“Where do the flowers come from?” Maria asks, brushing her fingertips gently over a blue iris.
“We import them from all over. Georgie flies back and forth with supplies, and he always arranges a flower delivery for me at the same time. You have to keep your home looking cozy and beautiful, even when it’s snowing outside,” she smiles.
“Go on, baby bird, choose the flowers you like,” I tell Maria.
“Really?” she asks, happily.
“Of course,” I say.
I watch her take her time, not rushing the process at all. She pulls long stems from the buckets and holds them next to each other.
Her long fingers hold the flowers gently. Sometimes she stops to smell one of them and smiles to herself.
When Maria has the bouquet of her choice, the shopkeeper wraps the stems up in tissue paper and then a plastic layer. I pay for the flowers, and we head out of the shop together. “Thank you,” Maria calls to the lady as we leave.
“You two have a wonderful day,” she calls back.
I pull Maria close again. I always want my arm around her. I always want her close to me.
“Shall we get some hot chocolate at the bookshop? I see they have a little coffee stand in there,” I say.
