I shiveras I come to stand next to where Stacey is working diligently on a multicolored tulip arrangement, the air conditioning blasting cool air through the florist workshop.
“That’s looking really good, Stacey. The colors are allblending nicely, and you’ve given the tulips plenty of room to open.”
It’s been three weeks since I returned, but Maryann offered her niece a permanent position. Stacey barely waited for the words to leave her aunt’s lips before saying an enthusiastic yes, meaning Maryann could cut her own hours back so she could spend more time with her new husband.
It’s clear Stacey has found her calling as a florist, and she beams at me. “Thanks, Gracie! I think tulips might be my favorite flowers to work with so far. They’re a lot easier than sweet peas, that’s for sure.”
I let out a light laugh. “Don’t worry, plenty of florists find sweet peas challenging. I’ve just had a call come through from a bride who’s getting married next month. Her current florist has fallen through, and she wants to order wildflower bouquets for her and the other bridesmaids—four in total.” Stacey’s watching me curiously as I lift up the tablet, pulling up the Pinterest board the bride emailed through to me. “She wants wildflowers like this, with the greenery. What do you think?”
“Pretty,” Stacey murmurs, reaching out to scroll through the images. “That’s a perfect look for a spring wedding.”
“You think you can handle it?”
She goes eerily still beside me, looking at me with wide eyes. “Me?” she asks softly. “You wantmeto do it?”
I lift a shoulder. “Under supervision, but you’re a natural.” I gesture at the arrangement on the table as proof. “You’ve been here for three months, and customers are already asking for you by name.” The younger woman’s cheeks heat, her eyes dropping from mine, but I nudge her with my elbow, giving her a gentle smile. “Looks like you came by your talent honestly—straight from your aunt.”
Stacey’s eyes water, and she whirls away, hiding the sudden burst of emotion. My mouth falls open, unsure, but then she’s facing me again, her expression set with determination.
“Yes, I’ll do it,” she says, but then wavers. “But you’ll help, right? I haven't…I wouldn’t want to ruin anyone’s wedding flowers.”
“Yes, we’ll help,” I reassure her with a laugh. “But I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
Stacey gives me a tremulous smile, like she doesn’t quite believe me, but desperately wants to. “Thanks, Gracie.”
Everything seems to be falling into place, both at work and at home. Nolan has taken over my guest bedroom—with an actual bed after I finally went shopping for new furniture—and set up a small office in a corner of the living room so he can keep working as an independent financial consultant. It’s a business he started last year and, according to him, he advises companies on their business strategies and financial operations, helping them to find ways to boost their bottom line.
Two days a week, he travels to different sites, but the rest of the time, he’s at the house, and we have settled into some weird domestic routine. It seemed like it should feel strange, but it just didn’t. It’s nice to share the house with someone, knowing Nolan will be there when I get home, chasing away the silence that was full of reminders that I was supposed to be sharing the house with someone else.
My only complaint is that Nolan has no problem ignoring me. It means he has spent any free time he has fixing upmyhouse. This weekend, he’s even planning on driving to Ashland to pick up the paint I ordered for my bedroom walls—and also to get some sample tiles so I can finally choose what to use for the bathroom flooring.
In my defense, the tiles look completely different onlinethan in person, and the hardware store in Sterling Creek just doesn’t have what I need.
“Gracie!” Bridget calls from the front. “There’s someone here to see you.” Stacey and I both look up, right as my heart skips a beat before jumping into a rapid rhythm that makes my head spin.
It feels like I’ve been holding my breath since the day I came back, waiting to see Braxton again. Waking up every morning thinking, “This is the day,” and falling asleep wondering if it’ll be tomorrow. It has been a slow torture, because I feel like I can never relax, constantly waiting for him to jump out at me and force me to face the ashes of our relationship.
The fact that Braxton’s been playing on my mind so much is the reassurance I don’t need that putting some space between me and Nolan is a good idea. And I think Nolan senses that, too.
“Gracie?” Stacey asks tentatively. “Are you okay?”
My breath hitches in my throat before I manage to steady myself, and I catch her eye. “I’m fine,” I say, keeping my voice as even as I can. “You just…keep up the good work.” I give her a tight smile and then turn on my heel, marching out of the room with a confidence I don’t feel. I straighten my shoulders, preparing for what I’m about to walk into, but it’s not Braxton facing off with Bridget.
It’s Esther.
CHAPTER 27
Gracie
Bridget stands behind the counter, her expression unsure as she watches the woman on the other side. Esther isn’t paying attention, her gaze roving around the store with disinterest, one hand clutching the black strap of the large purse on her shoulder.
“Bridget,” I say softly, waiting for her to look at me. “Can you go help Stacey? She needs some more ribbon for her arrangement, but we couldn’t decide which color.” I can see the protest on my friend’s lips, but I silently shake my head, all too aware of Esther turning to face me. “Go, Bridget. Please. I’ve got this.”
She hesitates, but lets out a rough sigh. “Fine, but I’ll be leaving that door open.” Esther scoffs, but we ignore her. “You’ll call out if you needanything,” Bridget stresses, making it an order.
I roll my eyes, shooing her away. She goes reluctantly, grumbling the entire way, and I can’t stop the smile when she deliberately opens the door to the workshop wider before disappearing inside.
I close my eyes, gathering myself, before taking Bridget’s place at the counter and facing Esther. She’s watchingme with a frown, her arms crossed over her chest, looking like she’s barely restraining herself from tapping her foot.
