“I know. He’s awesome.”
“Yeah, he is.” She shot me a grateful smile. “Thanks for always noticing.”
“How could I not?”
“His father never did,” she said under her breath.
Every time she said something like that, my chest ached for Robbie. And for Esme. Her ex hadn’t deserved either one of them.
We kept working. The light through the front windows shifted from bright to golden to amber as the afternoon deepened. Trevor relocated from his bed to a sunny patch on the floor, stretching out with a groan of contentment. She was working on the seventeenth or eighteenth arrangement—I’d lost count—when she reached for a stem and our hands met over the same bunch of ranunculus. Her fingers brushed mine and stayed there for half a second longer than necessary. She pulled back first.
“Sorry,” she said.
“No problem.”
She didn’t look at me. I didn’t look at her. We both looked at the ranunculus as if it had the secret to the meaning of life.
The back door opened again and Madison burst in like a blue-eyed tornado.
“Grady, hi.” She ran straight to me, arms out, and I caught her, swinging her up.
“Hey, Sweet Pea. How was school?”
“We painted birds. Mine was a pelican. Mrs. Alvarez said it was the best one.” She leaned back in my arms to look at me very seriously. “Itwasthe best one, but I didn’t say so because that would be bragging.”
“Very restrained of you,” I said.
“Also, Tyler H. took a bite out of the glue stick and had to go to the nurse.”
“Poor Tyler H.,” I said.
“He’s always doing things like that,” Madison said. “Last week he got a pea stuck up his nose at lunch.”
“Let me guess—school nurse again?” I asked.
“Yep.” She wriggled down and ran to the worktable, eyes wide. “Mommy, these are so pretty. Are these for the wedding?”
“They are. Grady’s helping me so I don’t have to be here all night,” Esme said.
“Can I make one?” Madison asked.
“Tell you what,” Esme said. “There’s an extra vase under the counter and some flowers in the reject bucket. You can make your own arrangement.”
Madison’s face lit up. She shrugged out of her jacket, tossing it onto a stool, then scrambled for the vase and the bucket. She set herself up on the floor beside Trevor, who accepted this invasion of his sunbeam by raising his head to lick Madison’s hand.
The three of us continued our task, Madison on the floor making something that was less an arrangement and more a colorful explosion stuffed into a vase. Trevor supervised with his face resting in his paws.
By five-thirty, we’d finished fifty of the centerpieces.
“I think I can do the rest by noon tomorrow,” Esme said.
“I’ll help you,” I said. “And you can’t say no.”
“Now that I know your secret cutting talents, how could I? Thank you for rescuing me.”
“Anytime,” I said. “Let’s order pizza to celebrate. My treat.”
“Are you sure?” Esme asked.
