“Quite the opposite.” Olivia’s eyes twinkled. “She told everyone how lovely you were.”
“I feel the same about her. That was the first I’d met her in person, but she’s always been one of my favorites in our group. We have a lot in common.”
Olivia pursed her lips, and the apples of her cheeks grew pink, as if holding back a smile. “Is that right?”
“It really is. Especially our love of Sam.”
A mass of clouds skated over the sun, cooling my skin and the air.
Olivia passed the basket to me with a frown. “Who?”
“The UMass mascot. Sam the Minuteman. We’ve been making jokes at the poor guy’s expense for at least three years, but we love him,”I explained. “It’s fun finding other ladies who love football. My mom, sister, and I are diehards.”
“I do my best to root for the home teams and turn up at homecoming events, but ...” She shrugged.
“You prefer plants,” I said.
Ten minutes later, she waved when I climbed behind the wheel as if we were old friends. “You can leave the plants outside when you get home. No need to rush getting them planted. Looks like rain.”
I smiled, buckled up, and turned on my phone, daring a peek at my missed messages.
My phone came alive with a string of chirps and dings, notifications populating like popcorn in the fifteen hours or so since I’d shut the device off at the manor.
I greedily devoured everything I’d missed. Notes, memes, and anecdotes from online friends and communities. Likes, hearts, and comments on my personal social media accounts and the bookstore’s page. Everyone loved the new window display, including Historically_Bookish, and my chest puffed with pride.
A dozen texts from Cecily waited.
My smile grew as I scrolled through the messages, reading her questions about the drive to Amherst and the manor. But it was her intense frustration withRelatable Romance, an obviously scripted television show billed as reality, that brought tears to my eyes. As a former theater nerd, I enjoyed the terrible acting posed as improv. But as a devout history buff, Cecily became frequently unhinged over errors in cultural context or wardrobe. The show continually changed locations, and sometimes eras, attempting to stand out among its competitors—i.e.,The BachelorandBig Brother—but they often failed.
The phone rang before I could finish wiping my eyes.
Cecily’s name and number appeared on the screen.
“Hello, you nut,” I said. “I was just reading all your texts.”
“It’s coming to Massachusetts,” she said, breathless, and skipping all manner of greeting. “And that fan site,Relatable RomanceReporter,says next season will be a special Regency-era production.” A wild and youthful squeal pealed through the speaker, and I cracked up all over again.
I listened as she caught her breath. “I’m okay,” she said. “I’m pulling myself together now.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Mm-hmm, and I want to hear everything about your major life change and recent relocation before we talk about a silly television show. I just had to get that little fangirl moment out of my system.”
“I like your fangirl moments,” I said. “Besides, that show usually makes you homicidal. I’m glad they’re finally doing something right.” Hopefully they’d get the details correct for the Massachusetts episodes. Cecily loved the Regency era. If they messed it up, she’d probably drive to the set, and I’d need to come up with bail money to get her out of whatever trouble she caused.
She made a deep, throaty noise. “First tell me about your trip.”
I grinned, watching folks walk to and from the nursery, holding hands or babies and towing their wagons full of plants. “Well, my parents are stressed about taking over full time at the shop again, but they’re trying. Annie came to see me off, and she didn’t stick gum in my hair when she hugged me goodbye, so that was another win. The drive was long and boring. The house is great. My handyman is a hunk. Obviously sent by fate to distract me from my mission, but I shall persevere. Oh! And I just bought a bunch of plants to start a garden. Now. Back to you.Relatable Romanceis coming to Massachusetts?”
“Yes!” Cecily was quiet for a long beat. “We’re circling back to the handyman.”
“Okay.”
“I think I’m going to apply to the show as an adviser. They want locals with significant familiarity in various categories including local history and the community. I set up notifications so I can jump when they make the official announcement forRelatable Romance: Regency Era. I’ll play up my lifelong residency in Massachusetts, plus the fact Inearly graduated with a history degree before I realized I wanted to go into nursing.”
It’d taken Cecily nearly two extra years to finish her nursing degree, but she’d come alive in those classes, and I’d loved watching the change. These days, anyone listening to her talk about her job could understand why she wasn’t worried about finding her soulmate. She was already in love. With her work.
“Also,” she continued, “I’m the perfect candidate after working at four different local museums and volunteering at dozens of reenactments. Plus, who wouldn’t want a registered trauma nurse on set, with all those intoxicated twentysomethings drinking twelve hours a day?”
