Chapter One
Nova
Snow slowly falls on a dark cobalt night.Blech.
Outside a cold wind whips through the barren trees, a whistle pitched reminder of winter coming to True Ridge. Nestled deep in the Appalachian Mountains, winters can be harsh here. Reason enough for me to flee True Ridge after we lost my parents on a winter’s night similar to this one.
We lost them on Christmas Eve when we were teenagers. It was just me and Orion against the world. My little brother was all I had left, but it was enough. Until last winter, when I caught him with my best friend. It would have been fine if they were honest about it. No, they lied to me formonths. I caught them on Christmas, and it changed everything.
They left me with nothing. Caught up in their own world, a new world without room for me, I was all but abandoned. I had never cared much about the holidays after we lost mom and dad. Losing Orion and Oaklin was almost as hard. Having it all happen during the holidays just made me hate them more.
“Fuck all the way off with that song,” I hiss as the radio shifts from fall songs to an awful rendition of Jingle Bells
Someone chuckles behind me and I turn to see my shop boy, Hudson, watching me with an amused grin. Whatever look I have on my face wipes that grin right off his face. I almost laugh. I am not exactly a grinch, but I also have nothing to do with any of the holidays I consider stupid.
In my flower and foliage shop, Bloomin’ Babe, you will find not one hint of the coming holidays. No poinsettias. No golden sprayed foliage. Not a ribbon or a single ornamental item. With a hasty switch of the radio, I also cut off the sounds of the season.
I hate the holidays and will be as bah-humbug as I want tobe.
“Take those roses to Ms. Hopson, then call it a day, Hudson.”
“Will do, Nova. Hope you have a good Thanksgiving. Remember, if you want to, we always...”
“Always save a spot at your place. Thanks, kid, I appreciate it. Tell your mama Iwill notbe there, but I will swing by for a slice of that pumpkin pie.”
“No problem, Nova. See you in a few days,” he calls with a toss of his messy golden hair.
Hudson has been with me since I opened the shop. His mother, Tatum, was one of my first customers five years ago. They’ve become the closest thing I have to family here. Sometimes I do take Tatum up on offers to come celebrate with them. Just never Christmas. I have not celebrated in years.
Sweeping the store out, gathering the dropped leaves and petals for compost, I try to shake off my mood. I might not be a grinch, but I sure hate seeing the lights go up, the ribbons hanging from streetlamps, and the awful music pouring out of every store front. True Ridge is a traditional little town who celebrates all the holidays in a big way. I always skirted on the edge of being traditional. I wore a pantsuit to prom, I was not baptized until I could choose my faith, and I never bought into gender roles in any relationships.
“Doesn’t mean you need to hate the holidays,” I whisper under my breath.
Bucking of tradition is not why I hate the coming holiday. That is due to pain and good old resentment. Losing everything at once will do that. I tried to celebrate our first Christmas after we lost our parents, but it was just never the same. How can you celebrate anything with half of yourself gone?
Finishing my closing tasks, I round the store one last time, making sure all the plants have water and have all beentrimmed. I step behind the counter to close the day out when I hear the jingle of the front doorbell. I frown as I glance at the clock behind me, wondering who would come in so late.
“Come on Tink,” a low voice calls, full of humor. “He wants to be part of it too. Don’t you, Nibs?”
Despite my previous irritation, I can’t help but smile. Peter Pan? I push up on my toes to see over the rows of flowers and creeping leaves of greenery. Just as I do this, the man stands up, towering over every flower, every vine, and every leaf in the shop.
Bright green eyes sparkle in the soft twinkling lights of my shop. A crooked grin tilts a soft, full mouth as he nods at me, giving away that he caught me staring. I flush and bow my head. He rounds a corner, and I see two adorable kids on either side of him, clutching his gloved hands tight.
“Evening, ma’am,” he begins, his eyes traveling over me in a way that feels too intimate. I blink at the two kids who have his dark hair. “We’re here to get a gift for their mother. Thanksgiving is also her birthday. It often gets forgotten with all the holiday festivities. I want to be sure we celebrate her.”
Well, that melted a little of my ice-cold heart. I smile and nod, leading the cute little family towards some of my prettiest displays. I explain why the flowers would be perfect for their mother as the kids take time looking at each. They ask questions about what all the flowers are, why I put them together the way I do, and they ask him how big a bouquet they can get.
“They say size does not matter,” he teases with a wink at me. “For your mother though...I would assume something big. The biggest we can find.”
“If we’re going for something big, this one might work,” I suggest as I lead them to a towering bouquet that I was hesitant to even create.
With my distaste for the holidays, I don’t offer much in theway of Christmas. Other shops do so I send customers there if that is what they want. This year, I decided to create something that had been in my head for a while. It is a recreation of the last Christmas tree I did with my brother and our parents. Big, white flowers and velvety red roses replace the bulbs. Fresh picked pinecones and soft baby’s breath sparkle with snow dust. It’s a beautiful display I am proud of. It also stands almost as tall as the children.
“Oh wow, that is stunning. Did you…is this your work?”
“Y-yes, it is,” I stutter over his praise. “As I Said…it was in my head, I had to get it out.”
“Is that how…how this whole place is so amazing?” He turns in a slow circle to take in the whole shop, cocking his head at me. There is something soft in his bright green eyes as they meet mine.
