“Lovely,” I mutter.
“See? This is why I need your help.”
“Do you at least have your tax documents together?” I ask her.
She points to a box full of papers stacked up, with no apparent organizing method, and my stomach sinks.
This is going to be harder than I thought.
“I’ll get to it, and at the very least, make sure you've paid your taxes.”
“Thank you, I’ll be out front if you need me,” she says, and kisses my cheek.
I want to scream because this isn’t going to take me a couple days. This could take meweeks.
***
“I don’t know how you did it, but it looks like your taxes were paid for last year, and somehow in the correct amount,” I holler, still looking at my paper, checking the math in my head even though I checked it with the software. I come around the corner to the front room, and she doesn’t answer, and I look up to find my aunt and uncle staring at me.
“What?”
She’s grinning wildly and Uncle Leo has a funny look on his face.
“She clearly didn’t tell you,” he grumbles.
I frown and look at my aunt. “What didn’t he tell me, Auntie?” I ask her, stomach churning.
She pushes a small stack of papers across the counter and taps it.
“What’s this?” I ask them.
“I can’t do this anymore. I’m too old, and your uncle has retired. It’s time. It’s yours, my darling, well … it will be after a year,” she says.
“What’s mine? What are you talking about?” I ask her, shrilly.
“The flower shop. I know you’ve loved it since you were a child, and you know my son wants nothing to do with it or Paxton, for that matter. But I wantyouto have it, and so does your uncle. The house and land are paid off, and so is this building. The house is yours to stay in as long as you’d like. But the shop is totally yours, on one condition.”
Speechless is not the right word. But my brain isn’t exactly functioning; confusion is probably a better description, yet I understand every word they’ve said.
“I need you to run the flower shop now for a year. Your uncle and I are moving to Florida. We figured it’s time to see the sun every day. After the year is up, the shop is yours to do with as you please — sell it, rent it, keep it running, whatever,” Aunt Francesca says.
My jaw hangs open and words still won’t come.
“Close your mouth, darling, you look silly like that.”
I snap my mouth shut and take a deep breath. I never asked for this. I don’t want it.
Do I?
“What do you think?” Uncle Leo asks.
“I—”
“See, Francesca? I told you, you should have told her from the get-go. Now you’ve caught her off-guard, she doesn’t want this. We need to sell it. We’ll delay moving and sell the place. I knew this was a bad idea. And I should have known you were going to pull a humdinger like this,” Uncle Leo says.
I glance at my aunt, and she’s frowning, eyes glittering with tears. “I thought she would be happy, Leo,” she whispers. “I thought it would be something she’d enjoy, and I talked…” she trails off and wipes her face quickly.
He frowns, likely mad at himself because he made his wife cry, as he rubs his hand up and down her back.
