CHAPTER NINE
FINN
“He lives in New York,” I announce as I walk into Bloom.
Kavya and Nicholas look up from the big table at the back of the flower shop where they’re working, colorful blossoms spread about as they assemble bouquets. They each give me a quizzical look.
“I’ll take impossibleJeopardyanswers for 200,” Kavya quips.
I laugh. “Right. More context is needed.” I hurry over to the table, excited. “My pen pal. He lives in New York. He told me in a message last night.”
“Oh!” Nicholas perks up. “Where in New York?”
“He didn’t say. Just New York.”
“Usually people mean New York City when they say it that way,” Kavya says.
“Right. And there’s almost twenty million people in this state. Manhattan is 400 miles away. I looked this all up last night. The statistical likelihood that he’s anywhere near me is minimal. Although, even if he were on the opposite side of the state, that’s still a lot closer than Alaska or Texas, for example.”
When I read the email this morning, the revelation nearly knocked me over. I’ve always imagined NotAnOgre existing insome distant place, far removed from my life. It feels a bit like seeing a unicorn parked at the grocery store. Or, in this case, a half-vampire.
“Isn’t sharing that kind of identifying information against your anonymous rules?” Nicholas asks.
“It was a mistake. He sent me a follow-up message pretty much immediately after to apologize. And you’re right. Anonymity is still the name of the game.”
Kavya clips a few flowers. “So why all the excitement?”
“Despite the fact that we aren’t going to meet, I’m now aware that we could in theory meet. In fact, we could have met already without even knowing it. He could be a stranger at the movie theater, my dentist, even the next person to walk through that door.”
The bell above the shop door dings, and we all three turn to see Harry, the married director of the local theater. He strolls in with a friendly wave, his magenta shirt unbuttoned and hairy chest on display. “Good afternoon, beautiful people!”
We all call out our greetings before returning to the conversation.
“Okay, probably not Harry,” I acknowledge. “It just changes things, knowing that he’s out there, somewhere not horribly far away. And after the ice cream social debacle, I’m grateful for a little tantalizing mystery to distract me.”
“It wasn’t a debacle,” Nicholas says. “Everyone loved it!”
“Once the book club members got chattering,” Kavya adds, “you hardly noticed the metal music.”
I appreciate their reassurances, but irritation prickles up my neck when I think of Riley, once again totally unsympathetic to the position he put the rest of us in. It wouldn’t have taken much consideration to let us know that he had a show coming up, at the very least.
Kavya clips a flower. “Why did you call the ice cream social a debacle, anyway? Weren’t the sales good?”
“They were great, but I kept overhearing people complaining about the noise. And that garage remains totally inflexible about the situation. I thought evening events could offer a way to make money without the mechanics interfering, but not if they’re serious about hosting metal concerts all night.”
“If the zoning regulations also won’t help,” Nicholas muses, “you need a different strategy.”
“I’m trying to find more local businesses to stock the ice cream,” I say, “and I can schedule some more socials around the garage’s events, now that I know to check. But there are limited growth opportunities.”
“Is the garage really a dead end?” Kavya asks. “Can you find a way to push them to take everyone’s complaints seriously?”
I recall NotAnOgre’s last email and the enemy he’s gained, a situation that I’d much rather avoid for myself, but maybe I’m already there. “I plan to stay proactive. I’ve scheduled a meeting with a rep from the business association to get advice. I am happy to stand up for myself and my community, but I’m hesitant to push too hard. It’s already explosive when I talk to Riley, and I’m afraid I might say something I regret.”
“It’s a delicate situation,” Nicholas agrees as he shoves some flowers in a vase. “But there must be a way to put firm, strategic pressure on the garage.”
“It’s tricky because Riley is such a stubborn man. You should have seen the way he looked at me when I came over to talk about the metal show. He crossed his big arms over his burly chest and stared me down with those intense eyes. Like a wall.”
“Burly is an...interesting word choice,” Kavya notes.
