The woman turned and began to look at the bouquets along the wall. “It’s my friend’s birthday,” she said. “I want to get her something.”
“Women love flowers,” Ivy said simply. “It always seems like the men in our lives forget to buy us flowers, but the women never do.” She wondered if her father ever bought her mother flowers when her mother was still alive, then realized she’d had that thought before and dismissed it.
“Isn’t that right?” The woman paused and laced her fingers together. Each of them seemed entirely too thin and breakable.
Her eyes were wet.
Ivy furrowed her brow. She wondered if she should ask the woman what was wrong. She wondered if the woman needed help, if she’d escaped some kind of awful situation and taken refuge in the flower shop. Maybe Ivy watched too much of the news, but it seemed like bad things were happening all over the world. They could happen in Bluebell Cove, too.
“Listen,” the woman said abruptly, “I didn’t know, okay?”
Ivy cocked her head. Perhaps the woman was crazy. Maybe the woman had come in here to rant and rave. Should she call the cops?
“I didn’t know he was married,” the woman said, backing up toward the door. “He didn’t say anything about it. And he didn’t wear his wedding ring to class. I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
Ivy felt her life flash before her eyes. She took a step forward, unsure what she would do when she reached the strange woman. Maybe she would smack her. Perhaps she would hug her. Her heart thrashed. But before she could get there, the woman spun around and fled the flower shop. Ivy stood there like a fool, watching as the woman’s auburn hair whisked down the block.
Feeling out of her mind, Ivy cleaned up the shop, left, and locked the door behind her. She walked the few blocks to her children’s babysitter, then went through a ten-minute conversation about how Lily wasn’t feeling well, how the babysitter was sure it was some kind of stomach bug. Ivy thanked her and said she’d keep her home tomorrow. All the while, she felt far above herself, watching everything transpire.
On the walk back to the inn, she listened as Lily slept fitfully in her stroller. Tyler was mysteriously wide awake, as though he sensed the malaise in his mother. When they rolled past the house, Ivy was vaguely surprised to see Daniel’s truck out front. But they cruised right past and went to the inn, where Ivy set her children up in the office and prepared for hours of work at the front desk.
A few minutes after she arrived, the front door burst open, letting in her husband. Daniel’s eyes were laced with red, and he staggered, as though he were drunk. When he saw Ivy at the front desk, he stopped and traced his fingers through his sweaty hair. He looked at her as though he’d never seen her before. “What are you doing here?”
Ivy wanted to laugh. “I’m working.”
“Well.” Daniel didn’t seem to know what to say to that. Ivy considered telling him that she had to work two jobs—at the flower shop and at the inn—to maintain their life while he “went to college” or whatever he did with his free time. Animosity stirred in her gut.
But she guessed he’d been dumped today, which seemed like payment enough, at least for now.
“You’re coming back for dinner?” Daniel asked. His first question, as ever, had more to do with himself and his own happiness rather than Ivy or their kids.
“I don’t think so,” Ivy said. She hadn’t had dinner at home since Tyler’s birthday. And then, maybe to test the waters, she asked, “Did you remember Tyler’s birthday?”
Daniel winced. “When is that again?”
“It already happened,” she said. “I reminded you. Every single day, I reminded you.”
Daniel sat down in one of the lobby chairs and looked at his hands. “I’ve been busy with school. I’ve been…”
Ivy snapped. “You’ve been busy, all right.”
Daniel raised his chin and gave her an open-hearted look, one that told her how pathetic and childlike he really was. It was an expression that told her he was not capable of love, not in a romantic sense, not with her. He’d already begun to equate her with safety. She was a necessary extension of Daniel, one that didn’t allow for respect.
Daniel didn’t say anything else. He limped out of the inn and back toward their home, where he lay in front of the television for the rest of the night. From where she stood at the front desk, Ivy could see the blue light illuminating his mourning frame.
She wondered if this was the life she deserved.
Would she ever be brave enough to change it?
Chapter Twelve
Present Day
It was January 6th, and Ivy and Lily were headed for the University of Southern Maine campus. The back seat of the car was stuffed with suitcases and boxes, so much of it that Ivy wasn’t sure how it had all fit into Lily’s upstairs bedroom. Lily wore a shade of pink lipstick and a pair of vintage jeans that she’d stolen from Ivy’s closet, and she was fidgety, fiddling with the radio and messing with her hair. Ivy was even more nervous than Lily. But she told herself to be stoic, to show her daughter that you had to be sure of yourself in life, to be brave.
Ivy had been through her fair share of stories. She’d been brave when it counted.
“Did I ever tell you how much your father didn’t want me to open the flower shop?” Ivy asked suddenly, surprising herself.
