“George?”
“Hmm?”
“Can I help you in the morning at your stand?”
I shifted from lying on the blanket to facing her, leaning on my bent elbow. The shimmery silver moonlight shone brightly across her beautiful face, her long hair spread across the quilt like spilled ink.
“I don’t need any help. But you’re always welcome to join me. I’d love your company.”
Her immediate smile rivaled the stars and the moon. I smiled back.
The next morning, Madison arrived early and gave me a to-go cup of coffee and a generous box of blueberry muffins from the Wild Daisy Café.
“Sustenance for our morning,” she explained.
I felt like my face was going to break from my gigantic smile.
She wore shorts, athletic shoes, and a sunny yellow tank top. Her hair was tied back into a ponytail, her face shaded by a wide-brim straw hat. Her sunscreen scent tickled my nose, the coconut and citrus tropical and slightly sweet. I had to pinch myself, knowing we had the entire day ahead together.
I loaded my truck, Madison standing in the back end and shifting buckets of flowers to make room for the big boxes of produce. A few day laborers noticed, their curious looks and head turns not bothering me in the least. Thank goodness Kip was nowhere to be found, probably hunched over his desk punching numbers.
“Help me down?”
I held out my hand and helped Madison off the truck’s back end. She grinned, swiping her hands against her shorts.
“Are we ready?” she asked.
I glanced at a utility bucket of daisies, the cheery flowers spilling over in shades of white and pale pink. “Hold on,” I said.
I plucked a white flower from the bunch and gently tucked it behind her ear. She stared back at me, eyes twinkling beneath the brim of her hat.
“Now we’re ready.”
The rest of the week was a blur, each day filled with snapshots of Madison on the farm. I hadn’t been this happy in years. I was even happier when Kip scheduled a business trip, and I didn’t have to worry about running into him with Madison by my side. I could be myself, and the bliss I felt made me wonder if I could quite possibly run the farm alone.
By the time the weekend rolled around, Madison announced she never wanted to leave—that she’d fallen in love with farm life and spending time with me.
I could barely contain myself.
Between our stolen kisses and our uninterrupted time getting to know one another, I died and went to heaven.
By Monday morning, I’m mulling around a plan to get her to stay. She’s holed up in her hotel room on some work calls, so I go about my day like normal. But I stillmiss her.
One of the things I love about Monday mornings in the summertime is the local business owners who stop by. I’ve gotten to know a few over the years, warming up to them and having the same short chitchats about the weather. I like knowing what to expect from these folks who only come by once a week.
Bank worker, Miss Simpkins stops for fresh flowers to last her through the week. The tiny woman loves decorating the lobby and teller stations with local colors to enhance the customer experience. And then there’s Don Garcia, who picks up several crates of fresh maters for his homemade salsa, his Mexican restaurant the most popular in these parts.
But Miss Jenny from the Wild Daisy Inn is my favorite regular customer. She always brings me homemade muffins or cookies when she comes by to pick up lavender used for her hotel soaps.
Like clockwork, she arrives at half-past ten, after the breakfast rush and before the lunch crowd. I offered to deliver the lavender to her personally, but she insists she enjoys getting out for some fresh country air.
I know her big SUV by heart, and when she pulls up at ten-thirty on the dot, I anticipate what delicious treat she might have in store for me today.
“Mornin’, George,” she singsongs with a wave. Her red lips are turned up into a cheery smile from underneath her signature hat.
“Hello, Miss Jenny. I’ve got your lavender bundles right here.” I point to a box I’ve already packed, the purple stalks tied together with twine.
“Thank you.” She passes me a baggie filled with cookies. “These are cinnamon oatmeal. Made them fresh this morning.”
