Desiree tilts her head. “What’s that tune you’re humming?”
“I’m not humming,” I say, taking a careful sip.
“Sounded like Ruby’s tune.”
“Wasn’t humming.”
She sighs. “Fine, no humming. You look like a man on a mission.”
I grunt. “That’s just me on any given day.”
She leans on the counter, giving me that look people get when they’re about to ask questions they probably shouldn’t. “You and Ruby working out okay at Oopsie Daisies?”
“Define okay,” I say with a half-scowl. Why can’t people mind their business?
“Define grumpy,” she shoots back, then softens. “Ruby told me about you two saving the shop. That woman’s got energy.”
There’s something we can agree on. “Yep,” I say, determined not to provide any fodder for town gossip.
Desiree frowns, her expression as scorching as the heat coming off my mug. “You know she lost her husband, right? Car accident. She was twenty-eight.”
My stomach tightens. “No. She never said.”
“She doesn’t want pity. But she made this wholecarpe diemthing her creed after that. Said life’s too short to be miserable. Today’s the twenty-year anniversary.”
I stare into my coffee. The image of Ruby dancing around the shop hits differently now. She isn’t silly—she’s choosing joy, every single day.
Desiree adds, “No offense, but you could learn a thing or two from her.”
Call it a pet peeve, but when does someone open withno offenseand close without being even a little offensive?
I don’t answer. I just ask for a takeaway cup. When I leave, the wind is sharp, and for the first time, I notice how bright the shop looks against the gray street. It’s like Ruby painted light into the world and dared it to stay.
I don’t goto the shop. I don’t check in. I need to catch up on my regular job. The day drags in the way only a mountain of paperwork can make it. I bury myself in work, convinced the distance is practical, anything but the truth. I try not to think about her.
I’m failing spectacularly on all counts.
By evening, I walk the streets, taking in Silver Pine in a way I never expected. It’s starting to feel homey.
I didn’t plan to stop by the shop. I tell myself I’m just checking whether Ruby remembered to lock up. But when I see her inside, sitting on a stool with her chin in her hand, I know I was lying to myself. I was hoping she’d still be here.
Ruby looks tired in a way I haven’t seen before. Not her usual whirlwind tired. This is quieter. Sadder.
Something in my chest flips, and I head inside. The strong scent of freshly cut roses fills my nose.
When she looks up, she doesn’t smile her usual way. “You heard,” she says softly.
I nod, removing my coat. “Yeah,” I say. “I heard.”
She studies me, maybe waiting for pity. I don’t have any. Only respect.
“I’m not always sunshiny,” she says. “Sometimes I fake it till I feel it.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, because I am. This woman, who’s gone through so much, somehowmanages to find the silver lining in everything and everyone around her. Sort of like Aunt Clara.
“What was he like?” I ask.
Tears well in those gray eyes, and I realize I’ve crossed a line. “I didn’t mean to?—”
