She gave me one of her sunny smiles. “That makes me happy too.”
“Since I’m in town, I thought I’d choose some flowers for Lila. Drop them off at her studio.”
“Great.” Esme wiped her hands on her apron. “What are you thinking? Classic, like roses? Or more of a mixed bouquet?”
“Do you know her favorite flower?” I asked.
“She loves all flowers,” Esme said without hesitation. “The folks out at Wilson’s Farms brought me a new batch of dahlias this morning. As you can see, they’re fantastic.”
“Sold,” I said.
She built the bouquet quickly—dark purple dahlias, a few white hydrangeas, and trailing jasmine vines for their sweet smell. She wrapped it in brown paper and tied it with a silk ribbon.
“Was Lila okay yesterday?” Esme asked. “After the weirdness with Kenzie at the party?”
“Yes. We didn’t waste our Sunday being too worried about it.”
“Oh, I’m glad. Lila’s a deeply private person, and she takes her design work very seriously. It’s art to her, not just a job. And they’re really pushing the chemistry thing with that awful Beau.”
“Yeah, I know,” I said dryly, my stomach twisting at the thought.
“It’s all so slimy.”
“Couldn’t agree more,” I said.
“I hope Lila’s not regretting this whole thing,” Esme said.
My jaw tightened. “I know it’s making me feel a little murderous.”
“Just when I think the world and workplaces have more respect for women, I’m disappointed. When I was working as anadmin right out of school, it was daily. Avoiding certain guys. Holding my tongue when I heard them talking about me and not about the quality of my work.”
“I would have thought a show produced by women would be different,” I said.
“Those two are all about ratings. It’s part of their job.”
I nodded, thinking how wise Esme was. Despite her bubbly disposition, she was no fool. “I just hope she’ll get out if it gets to be too much,” I said.
Esme tilted her head, peering at me. “I can’t believe you just showed up—all perfect for Lila, and everything. Makes me think the kids are on to something. Mia was right to choose you. I wouldn’t have thought they’d be so discerning. They’re so young. What do they know about love?”
“They know their moms,” I said, “just as you know them.” I handed her my credit card. “Does it make you more open to putting yourself out there? Putting your profile back up?”
“Maybe. I can’t decide if it’s worth the trouble. But if Robbie and the others chose someone for me, I might be more open to it than I thought I’d be—given how great they did with you.”
“I really appreciate you saying that.” I was truly touched.
“My pleasure. Now off you go. I have thorns to remove from some roses.”
I thanked her again and then headed out the door. As I stepped onto the street, Robbie appeared with a bag of something from the bakery and a coffee—probably for his mother.
“Hey, Robbie,” I said. “How are you this morning?”
“I’m fine. Somewhat fatigued after being up so late Saturday night,” Robbie said, sounding like a grumpy old man. “I exhausted myself giving everyone roasting lessons. Bella refused to take my advice, which flummoxes me, as she continued to turn a perfectly good marshmallow into char.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“There’s nothing to be done.” Robbie was gazing at me, eyes narrowed. “Are those flowers for Lila?”
“They are.”
