"I know, but we don't want to wait."
"Assuming the conversation between Manuel's father and I goes well, we need to start planning, figuring out a budget—all the things."
Perking up, she nodded vigorously.
"By the way, Manuel is not paying for everything."
"But he said?—"
"I don't care what he said. Were you at Knife & Fork tonight? Did you hear what his father said?"
Her shoulders slumped. "I don't have any money. How can I contribute?"
"Your father and I will contribute on your behalf." I didn't have any qualms about suggesting Karl help with the wedding expenses. Despite having two more children with his new wife, he never forgot about Blossom or treated her differently. He simply never hesitated to dote on his firstborn.
"You don't have a lot of money, Mom."
"I havesomemoney. It's not a lot, but I want to help. It's not every day my only child gets married."
She smiled.
"I'll take care of the cake, and once you've figured out a budget, I'll see what else I can cover."
"You're sure?" she asked.
"Positive. Are we good?"
"Yeah, we're good. Thank you, Mom."
I rose from the chair. "Wonderful. Sleep tight. I'll see you in the morning."
Before heading to bed, I lit a bundle of sage and moved slowly through the living room, then the hallway, letting the smoke curl into the corners where tension liked to linger. I paused outside Blossom's bedroom door longer than I did the rest of the house, whispering a silent intention for calm and clarity before moving on.
The ritual didn't erase conflict, but it helped me mentally release what I couldn't fix in one night, removing the negative energy from the house and allowing me to sleep peacefully once I climbed into bed.
Chapter 7
Tallulah
The door to my store opened, and I turned from rearranging my organic teas on one of the shelves. Mrs. Chen from the Far East Market next door walked in.
"Hello, Tallulah," she said with a little wave, strolling over.
Mrs. Chen was almost eighty years old, but if not for her gray hairs, you wouldn't know it. She was very agile, walking around the building several times a day as a form of exercise. She also did Tai Chi in the park on Saturdays with a group of Chinese women. I had tried more than once to convince her to teach classes for me, but she had always declined.
Her eyes crinkled in the corners as she surveyed the shelves I had been working on. She rested her hands on her hips. "Moving things around again? When will you be satisfied?" she asked.
I laughed at her teasing. "When I die," I said.
She tutted. "Do not talk like that. I saw a lot of people with their yoga mats today. Julie must have a full class."
Julie was a yoga instructor who rented space from me and conducted classes Monday through Saturday. Behind a half wall at the back of the store was a hallway leading to a quieter part of the center. The yoga studio occupied the largest room in the back, with bamboo floors, a mirrored wall, and dimmed lights.She taught a couple of classes during the day, and one after the shop closed. Two smaller rooms located farther down the hall were also rented. One for massage therapy and the other for treatments like reiki and reflexology.
"Almost," I replied. "Wednesdays are becoming popular, it seems. I think people are stressed and need a midweek break."
Mrs. Chen hummed her agreement. "I can understand that."
After years of knowing each other, we didn't need to talk all the time and fell into an easy silence while she browsed the supplements, and I continued rearranging the teas. We'd had plenty of long conversations over the years and occasionally ate lunch together—either in my store or hers.
