Today’s leading scent is honeysuckle, creamy and sweet, not too overwhelming for my pregnant nose. An upbeat playlist drifts through the speaker, and, combined with the sea of colors poking out of metal buckets and hanging from the ceiling, the quirky flower shop is one of my favorite places to visit.
Plus, Margot always has great snacks stashed in her office.
The flower shop opened earlier this year, and it’s already a staple in our little community. Margot works her ass off, running a business single-handedly while raising a daughter. I’m continuously impressed by all my friends, but especially Margot with my motherhood nearing closer.
I’m surprised to see Willow, Margot’s daughter, sitting behind the counter. She usually hides away out back or at one of her many after school clubs.
“Hey,Will. How was school?”
She shrugs, glancing up at me from the book she’s reading. “Boring.”
“School isn’tboring.We need to nurture that brilliant mind of yours,” Margot’s voice hollers from the back of the store.
Willow rolls her eyes.
She’s a good kid, smarter than I was in middle school. Or even college, for that matter. Unlike her spirited mother, Willow is a little more reserved, but still your typical pre-teen.
As if to prove my point, Margot skips into the room wearing an oversized tie-dye T-shirt, flared jeans, and an assortment of crystals hanging from her neck. Quite the contrast to her daughter’s black leggings and deep purple sweater. The only thing they share are their dark eyes and midnight hair.
“Willow here might go up a grade, skipping sixth and straight into seventh.” Margot sniffles. “Brains and beauty.”
“Moooom,” Willow groans, but behind her curtain of dark locks, her tiny smile can’t stay hidden.
Though I’ve no preference about the baby’s gender, seeing this mother-daughter interaction makes me imagine what my daughter would be like. Then, I remember what a handful me and my sister were.
Teenage girls are scary.
“Willow, that’s amazing. Harvard, here we come!” I poke her in the arm playfully.
“MIT is actually my top preference,” she says seriously.
“Did we have plans today?” Margot asks while trimming the stems of some gypsophila.
“Nope. I’m here as a customer.” My eyes dance over the selection of pastel wreaths hanging next to the counter. “I’d like to purchase an Easter wreath.”
“Purchase?” Margot flaps her hand in my direction. “Yourmoney is worthless here. I’ve told you this. I’ve toldallof you this.”
Not this again. I love a freebie as much as the next person, but ever since we befriended her, she’s refused to accept a single dime from me, Parker, or Talia. Parker has gone as far as sending in strangers on her behalf, and I’m pretty sure Talia anonymously sends flowers to herself. The flower shop does well. Great, in fact, but being a single mom isn’t cheap, and, from what I gather, Willow’s dad doesn’t support them financially.
“Margot, you’re selling them for forty dollars. I am not taking one for free.” I thrust my hands on my hips.
“Which one do you want? The powder-blue will look lovely against the white-oak on your front door.” She ignores my protest and continues tying together a small arrangement. “Or even the yellow.”
I cast a glance at Willow, who shakes her head.
My huff of defeat isn’t very convincing, and later, Margot will find a mysterious fifty-dollar bill in her coat pocket. “The blue, please.”
She beams at me and scurries from behind the counter. “How are mom and baby? And baby daddy?”
Now I’m the one rolling my eyes like a middle-schooler. “We’re all fine. Warren and I are going shopping for a stroller this weekend, which should be fun.”
The last word comes out tight and forced. Fun isn’t quite how I imagine our shopping trip going. It’ll be the first time we’ve seen each other since we tore our friendship pact to shreds.
There are no secrets between the four of us, and by now, my friends are well aware of Warren’s good deed,” as well as our after-dinner kiss.
“And how are things going between the two of you?” Margot fails to hide her eager tone.
“The same.” I prop my arms on the counter and fiddle with some fallen leaves. “We text. We call. It’s allveryfriendly. Which leads me to believe that will be the theme going forward. Which is fine. Totally fine.”
