"I wasn't married." I kept my head down, kept wrapping flowers, voice flat. "My husband died in a car accident. I was too heartbroken, so I left New York. Wanted to find somewhere quiet to start over."
Noah's smile faded. He was quiet for two seconds, then said softly, "Oh. Sorry, Mrs. Gray."
"It's fine." I smiled. At least leaving New York was something worth being happy about.
"If you need any help," he scratched the back of his head, "you can always find me. I live close, five-minute drive. Raising a kid alone's not easy. Moving stuff, fixing pipes, whatever. Just call."
Grandma Ruth snorted from the back. "Just call. That's what you told your ex-girlfriend, too."
"Grandma!" Noah's face flushed red.
I couldn't help laughing, kept working on the flowers in my hands, mood much lighter. Their genuine interaction always touched my heart. Even though they seemed to argue constantly, Noah found ways to come help every day, and Ruth always saved his favorite treats for him.
"Chloe," Ruth called from the back, "customer at the counter pre-ordered a bunch of white daisies. I already wrapped them. Can you take them out and give them to him?"
"Sure, coming."
I turned and picked up the wrapped white daisies from the work counter and walked toward the front. Only then did I notice someone standing at the counter.
When had he come in? I hadn't heard any footsteps.
The man wore a dark baseball cap pulled low, most of his face hidden in shadow. Wide sunglasses completely covered his eyes. He wore a dark gray sweater.
He was tall, the kind of oppressive build that made the cramped flower shop feel even more crowded.
An intensely strange familiarity hit me instantly. My heart skipped a beat. But I immediately told myself it was just post-trauma psychology.
I'd become a nervous wreck lately. Everyone looked like Enzo. Two days ago at the supermarket, I'd just seen a tall guy with dark hair and nearly crashed my cart into a shelf. Turned out to be an ordinary tourist visiting town.
"Sir, here are your daisies." I forced myself to stay calm, walked to the counter, and gently placed the flowers on the surface in front of him.
The man didn't answer.
He stood there quietly. A few seconds later, he slowly pulled his hand from his pocket, fingertips touching the wrapping paper on the daisies.
Then suddenly he turned and strode out, pushing the door open.
The bell on the door chimed crisply. By the time I snapped out of that inexplicable tremor and rushed to the door to look, his tall figure had completely disappeared into the bustling street.
That bunch of white daisies still sat lonely on the counter.
"Strange, he paid for them already. Why'd he leave without taking the flowers?" Noah poked his head out from the back holding scissors, looking at the counter, totally confused.
"Probably changed his mind." I picked up the flowers and gently touched the petals. "I like daisies anyway. I'll take them home today."
I could take a few flowers home every day to put in a vase, Ruth's special privilege. She was without a doubt the best boss in the world, not only incredibly kind to me, but her interactions with Noah were always entertaining.
If anyone wants to get paid to watch their boss fight every day, they should really try this flower shop.
Evening came, and I closed up shop, carried the daisies along the seaside path home. Got inside, changed into slippers, and put the flowers in a glass vase on the kitchen windowsill. The white petals glowed faintly warm in the sunset light. Beautiful.
I was bending down trimming the stems when knocking sounded at the door.
My hand froze mid-air.
Strange. I didn't know many people here. Mrs. Glass had left on a three-day trip. Who would come looking for me at this hour?
I put down the scissors, slowly walked to the door, and pulled it open.
