“A woman who inherits a flower farm in Cornwall. Right down your alley.”
“Sold.” I tucked it into the back pocket of my leggings, which wasn’t exactly designed for paperback storage but worked in a pinch.
This was the way it worked in Willet Cove. I brought flowers. He paid me with a book.
“Don’t forget to give this to my guy.” He reached under the counter and pulled out a jar of dog biscuits.
“Trust me, he wouldn’t let me forget. He knows it’s coming. You spoil him.”
“He’s a working dog. He deserves a little treat.”
I laughed, thanked him, and left. Trevor was sitting by the bike, vibrating with the effort of not chasing a seagull that had landed three feet away. I held out the biscuit. He inhaled it and then looked longingly inside at Dorian, clearly hoping for another.
“You’re shameless,” I told him. He wagged.
And off we went. South now, toward the gallery. The fog was starting to thin at the edges, and I could see the water for the first time. Flat, grey and still this morning. A few joggers passed me heading the other direction. A woman I recognized from Madison’s school waved from across the street.
I couldn’t help smiling. I loved this part of my day, moving through town with flowers in my basket and my dog beside me and the salt air on my skin. People probably thought I’d lost my mind, a grown woman riding around on a bicycle, but I didn’t care.
Delphine’s gallery didn’t open until eleven, but Delphine was already there. I could see her through the glass, rearranging a display wall in her tailored trousers and a cream silk blouse, looking like a movie star.
She saw me, coming quickly to open the front door to let me in. “Good morning, beautiful Esme.” She pressed her hand to her chest. “That is stunning.”
“You said you wanted a showpiece for your opening.”
“This is a masterpiece.” She guided me toward the front window where a low marble pedestal waited. I set the arrangement down and stepped back, pleased with my arrangement.
“Will you be able to come to the opening?” Delphine asked. “I’ll have wine and snacks.”
“I can’t. I have a date.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Oh, that’s right. I forgot.”
I gave her more of a rundown than I had to the group the night before about the doctor saving kids from cancer. “He seems promising.”
She studied me for a second, her dark hair glistening under the lights. “What about Grady?”
I shrugged. “You know that’s never going to happen.”
“I wish it would. For you.”
“Yeah, me too.” I didn’t say anything else. She knew it all anyway. The impracticability of a man like Grady. The fact that he obviously only cared about me as a friend. None of it had to be rehashed. Not when you were as close as Delphine and I were.
Rich in friends, I thought, as I said goodbye and headed back out to my dog and my bike.
Grace and Motion,Gillian’s studio, was just across the street from Delphine’s gallery, housed in a red brick landmark with white-painted window arches and a vintage-style hanging sign with pale gold lettering. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I could usually catch silhouettes of dancers stretching at the barre or moms in leggings laughing after class. A cheerful sandwich board sat outside the door, hand-lettered with the day’s schedule and an encouraging note that readYou’re stronger than you think.So Gillian.
I locked the bike,told Trevor to stay, and went in. A Pilates class was in session. I could hear Gillian’s voice through the studio door, calm and measured, counting reps. I set the bouquet on the table, swapping out last week’s arrangement.
Outside, Trevor had made a friend—a toddler in a stroller whose mother was trying to get through the studio door. The toddler had Trevor by both ears and Trevor was enduring it with the saintly patience of a dog who had been grabbed by a little girl daily for four years.
“Sorry,” I said, gently detaching my dog. “He’s friendly. Obviously too friendly.”
“He’s a good boy,” the mother said, laughing. “We need a dog like this.”
I held the door for her, climbed back on the cargo bike, and headed for my last stop.
Lila Morgan Interiors was on the sunny side of Harbor. The storefront was painted a soft sea-glass blue with white trim and a hand-lettered sign above the window.
