Dahlia placed the vase on the counter and filled it with blooms. Then she stood back in awe, letting everything else fade away. Her grandparents’ love story was something else, like something out of a movie or a good book—the kind of love that happens once in a million. They were lucky to have found that kind of love. Dahlia, on the other hand, not so much. And poor Lil was luckless when it came to men.
“Well, that’s enough of that,” she mumbled, wiping her moist eyes. It was good to feel something again besides anger and grief. Dahlia reached for the supplies she bought earlier from the store and headed back to the barn.
Harry greeted her halfway, shaking his wet body onto hers. “What is the world? You’re covered in sand. Have you been swimming?” Harry panted happily. “Ugh, I need to keep a better eye on you. Come.” She marched them into the barn and grabbed the towel from the rusted nail. “This will have to do until I put you in the shower.” Dahlia swaddled his head with the towel, making him look like the wolf in Little Red Riding Hood, and laughed.
Dahlia reached for one of Lil’s coffee cans from the shelf and filled it with water outside. Why had Lil buried an empty coffee can? Did the aluminum have some miraculous growing property or ward off root rot? God knew some of these plants were decades old, and Dahlia was surprised she wasn’t greeted by fungus and aphids. These questions burrowed in her brain. Lil always had such interesting anecdotes. Who knew why, and at this point, it was the least of her concerns.
The water spilled as she walked, staining the wood floor Lil had painted by hand decades ago in a harlequin diamond pattern. “Shoot,” she murmured as she set the can on the potting bench. Grabbing the towel from Harry’s head, she started wiping, noticing a chunk of wood missing from the corner of one of the floorboards. She ran her index finger over the groove. The chipped piece was lighter than the rest. It wasn’t time-worn and looked out of place. She stood and bounced on the wood to see if it was loose. Sure enough, it was. Dahlia ran into her pop’s work area for a nail, tempted to open the sliding door and peek at what Noah was working on. “Focus,” she said to herself. Pop’s rusted-green toolbox was still in the same place. It lay on the shelf under his workbench next to the bucket of random nuts and bolts.
Dahlia held it at eye level, remembering all the times he carried it, saying, “Anything worth doing is worth doing well,” in his raspy French accent.
Harry barked.
“Aren’t you bossy? I’m getting it.” She grabbed a few long finishing nails and a hammer.
Dahlia pounded in the nail so hard she split the wood right up the middle. “Shit,” she mumbled, realizing she had just ruined Lil’s beautiful paint job. Noah wouldn’t have done that, she was convinced. He didn’t seem like the impulsive type or the kind of person to rush through things. She was mad that she couldn’t handle something as simple as nailing a floorboard. At some point, she’d have to come back to fill the crack and repaint the area, but she didn’t have the bandwidth for it now.
Harry just stared at her, panting. “Oh, right, water.” She chuckled, finally setting the water back on the floor. Harry lapped it up, and Dahlia watched in reflection. The idea that she could need Noah for more than just house maintenance made her uneasy. Needing people meant the potential of losing them. But first things first, she needed to know exactly what she was getting herself into and who her competition was. Dahlia nuzzled her face into Harry’s and breathed in his wet dog flavor. “Maybe we should take a peek atHamptons House.”
Harry barked.
Dahlia knew the answers were right at her fingertips; all she had to do was search, but she didn’t have the nerve. So she did what any painfully curious person would do, and she stayed busy making essential oils. When she was done, Dahlia took a picture of the mason jars tied with cheesecloth that lined the potting bench. They readLavender,Gardenia,Night Jasmine,andHeritage Rose.
But try as she might, her mind was elsewhere. She would bet money that whatever happened on the show last season was why Noah wasn’t filming this year.
It was hours later. Dahlia sat on the sleeping porch attached to Lil’s bedroom with Harry, admiring the bubblegum sky. The air felt cooler than usual as she sipped her chamomile tea. She snapped a photo of the colorful horizon, sank further into the chair, and let out a lengthy sigh. She still had to email the gallery back; she’d taken enough time as it was. The to-dos ran directionless through her mind, like a sailboat without a rudder. What was her priority at this point? She had to find that key, but would she in time? All she really knew was that she couldn’t let this job slip through my fingers. And Noah … she bit the inside of her cheek. What was the deal with his ex, and was she really that beautiful?
Dahlia couldn’t fight her curiosity any longer and searched, “Josie,Hamptons House.”
She gasped so loudly she was sure the beach walkers below could hear her. Every picture was more stunning than the next. She was curvy but thin with great boobs, dark hair, and angelic features. The girl looked like she never had a pimple, bad hair day, or period bloat. Even without makeup, she was beautiful.
“Ugh!” she yelled in frustration as she slammed the phone onto the side table. The girl next door couldn’t compete with that. She was an average divorced mom who still bought her clothes at Old Navy and had no idea who she wanted to be when she grew up. She looked again; this time, Josie was in black leather, looking a bit like a vampire goddess. Dahlia decided she couldn’t be much older than Daisy. Another swipe, and this time, it was a picture of both Josie and Noah. They looked happy. They looked perfect together.Heat rushed through her body, and suddenly, she was angry. Dahlia wondered why a girl like that would ever cheat on a guy like Noah. Although she didn’t know him well, she knew enough to know he was one of the good ones.
Her fingers feverishly typed away. “Noah Sterling’s age.” The air in her body went still; he’d be turning twenty-eight on July 19th. She wasten yearsolder than he was. She’d suspected a slight age gap, but this much was mind-blowing. “Oh God, I’m a cougar, Harry.” He lifted his head and just sighed. This could never work—gorgeous ex, and now a decade in between them. She had zero chance, not even for a one-night stand. Suddenly, she didn’t want to take a romantic leap. She needed to protect her heart, just as she had done most of her life. It was much easier that way. The moon created a sparkly path across the peaceful ripples. What was she so afraid of? That Spence might be right, that she was unlovable? Undesirable? He still hadn’t texted back, but Dahlia remained hopeful that he’d do the right thing and send the papers.
Dahlia finally stopped procrastinating and opened her computer to email the Whitmore Gallery. It was the only way forward, so she typed.
Thank you for this opportunity, Christine. I’ll be there ready to start on August 5.And with that, she hit send on the next chapter of her life, hearing the paper plane take flight. There was no turning back now. With the start date solidified, she would have to stick to the plan; there was no other choice. Dahlia knew that whatever happened this summer at Lil’s was now just a stepping stone toward her next season.
CHAPTER NINE
July 6
Dahlia rolled the white primer onto the bathroom ceiling. Even with the small window open, the odor was strong and noxious. With each motion forward and backward, the yellow stain slowly disappeared. Cold speckles hit her long lashes from above. She couldn’t believe it had taken this long to repaint. She chuckled silently, remembering the day fifteen years earlier when Daisy filled the upstairs sink to wash her American Girl dolls.
“Daisy, come on, we’re late. Your dad is waiting at the church,” Dahlia said, sweating through her white lace dress. She couldn’t believe she’d said yes to a church … and yes to Spence. But how could she not, after Daisy had made a birthday wish for Spence and Dahlia to get married after he showed up out of the blue? Daisy was so happy, and Dahlia couldn’t dash her hopes of having a “real” family. Plus, he was very convincing. He said he’d changed, that he thought about them every day and wanted to be the dadand husband they deserved. More than anything, Dahlia wanted a partnership; she was tired of being alone.
“Mommy, Kaya’s not ready,” Daisy shouted from the top of the stairs in her sweet little voice.
“Then get her ready and quickly.”What if he thinks she’s a no-show? Is that a bad thing? Dahlia sat on the Windsor bench and anxiously rubbed the arm. What was she doing? They didn’t work then, and what was to say they’d work now? But she had to try for Daisy.
“Coming,” said Daisy, running down the stairs with her two dolls tucked under her arm.
“Carefully, we don’t need any accidents today,” Dahlia said, getting up. “Daisy, you look so pretty and very wet.”
“It’s okay, Mommy. Don’t sweat the small stuff, remember?” Daisy said with her lisp.
“How could I forget? Pop used to say that all the time. Did you turn the water off?” Dahlia asked, holding her hand.
