“Hence the bees.”
She nods, her hair falling over her shoulder. “The bees. I have a whole greenhouse behind the shop, and farther down the lane on the opposite side of the creek are my hives.”
“I’m impressed, Bloom, and humbled.” I sip my coffee with a slight smile. “You aren’t at all what I expected.”
“You aren’t what I expected either, Wren.” Her blue eyes dart to the hall, and I know she’s thinking of Arlo. “Look, I know you don’t need my permission to date Arlo, though Autumn might say otherwise.”
“She had a few words to say on the topic.” I recall the first night I met her and just how harsh she was.
Rolling her hand, she flutters the thoughts away. “I want you to know I only tried to warn you off because I know Arlo, and as gruff as his exterior is, he’s really just a big teddy bear dressed in flannel.”
“He is, isn’t he?”
“He loves with a fierceness that any woman would be lucky to have. Wren?—”
“Don’t,” I cut her off, not ready to dive into that. We’ve only been here two weeks. “Let it happen if it’s going to happen, okay?”
“For what it’s worth, Wren, I think you two are perfect for each other, and I’m glad I got to meet you.”
I twist up my face, swallowing my emotions as I struggle not to cry. The fact is, with each passing day, I’m honored I met them.
Perhaps life leads you just where youneedto end up.
CHAPTER 17
Days passwith a normality I’m not sure I’ve ever experienced. Lazy nights previously spent reading with Lark turn into a family affair with the Larsons. My favorite part is when Arlo gets so angry at a book, he places it down gently before stomping through the house to get out his aggression. After the first time he threw a book and I chastised him for it, he quickly refrained from doing so again.
Wednesday morning came far too fast, and with it, the buzz of nerves in my veins. Even my coffee turned to bitter ash on my tongue.
“What’s wrong with you?” Lark questions on our walk to school and the library, the source of my nerves.
“Nothing.” I tug at my knit cap, supplied by Saffron, who instead of reading last night whipped out a black hat for me to wear.
Since I’m always cold.
“You’re lying, Mom. You can tell me anything.” Jostling her book bag on her shoulder, she peers up at me. The emerald green beanie on her head makes her look like a winter princess.
“I’m just nervous.” We hop up on the sidewalk, and with a quick glance to my right, I see Bloom walking out of the woodsand onto a dirt road that runs parallel to the creek, holding a package in her arms that I’m sure is honey from her bees.
After the other day, when I showed interest in her bees, we sat and talked for hours until she had to run to open up her store. In those moments, a friendship blossomed, and I’ve never been more thankful for those hours. Every tree I see reminds me of how hard she worked to make this town sustainable. I truly misjudged her.
I give her a gentle wave as we pass her shop.
“The book reading?” Lark prompts, drawing me back to the moment and why I was so nervous in the first place. She isn’t wrong, and that’s what gets me more than anything.
The book reading.
“It wouldn’t be so bad if Seraphina didn’t set up the entire kindergarten class to come over and Paris didn’t scream it to the rooftops.” Though Paris running through town with a sign about today’s story time at eleven will forever remain embedded in my head.
“She is an interesting character,” Lark mutters as she sips her hot cocoa.
“Definitely main character vibes.” I adore her for it, even though I know she is going to drop off her kid, run to the refreshment table, and then find one of the several armchairs I convinced Ms. Aberdeen to purchase. She will nap there until the end of story time.
I don’t mind, I’ve been in her shoes. She can nap all she wants, and I’ll play with her little guy. Though from what I hear, he is a handful.
I think he just might need a friend.
“You like them,” Lark states as we pass through the town square and the giant maple tree that stands sentinel over the town.
