Christine Rimmer - The Good Girl's Second Chance

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That night, Chloe made chocolate chip cookies. Once they’d cooled, she packed them up into two bright decorator tins. She took them to the showroom the next morning. One she offered at the coffee table.

The other she carried with her when she went to meet with Manny at Quinn’s house after lunch.

“Cookies!” Annabelle nodded her approval. “I like cookies.” She sent Manny a regretful glance. “Manny’s cookies are not very good.”

Manny told Chloe, “Never was a baker—or that much of a cook, when you come right down to it. I enjoy cooking, though. Too bad nobody appreciates my efforts.” He wiggled his bushy eyebrows at Annabelle. “And what do you say when someone brings you really good cookies?”

“Thank you, Chloe.”

“You’re welcome.”

She turned those sweet brown eyes on Manny again. “Can I have one now?”

“That could be arranged.” Manny led them to the kitchen, which had appliances that had been state-of-the-art back in the late eighties, a fruit-patterned wallpaper border up near the ceiling and acres of white ceramic tile. Annabelle made short work of two cookies and a glass of milk, after which she wanted to take Chloe up to her room.

Chloe looked to Manny. The old guy shrugged. “Don’t keep her up there all day,” he said to the little girl.

“Manny, I want all the princesses, but it won’t take that long.” She reached right up and grabbed Chloe’s hand, at which point Chloe’s heart pretty much melted. “Okay, Chloe. Let’s go.”

After half an hour with Quinn’s daughter, Chloe knew exactly which princesses Annabelle wanted represented in her new room, as well as her favorite colors. They went back downstairs, and Chloe spent a couple of hours with Manny, going through the house, bottom to top, talking hard and soft surfaces, color choices, style preferences and the benefits of knocking out a wall or two. Chloe jotted notes and took pictures of existing furniture and fixtures that would be included in the new design.

Before she left at four-thirty, she promised to crunch the numbers. The contract would be ready for his and Quinn’s approval early next week.

“Give me a call,” said Manny. “We can decide then whether to meet here or at your showroom.”

“That’ll work.”

Annabelle urged her to “Come back and see me soon, Chloe. And bring cookies.”

Chloe promised that she would. She drove to the showroom, let Tai go home and got to work on the contract, planning out the estimated costs, room by room. At six, she closed up and headed for her house, a big, fat smile on her face and a thousand ideas for the redesign swirling in her brain.

She parked in her detached garage and was halfway along the short breezeway to the front door when she caught sight of the gorgeous bouquet of orchids and roses waiting in a clear, square vase on the porch. It must be from Quinn. The arrangement was so simple and lovely and the gesture so thoughtful, she let out a happy cry just at the sight of it.

Okay, it was a little silly to be so giddy at his thoughtfulness. But she hadn’t had flowers in so long. Ted used to buy them for her, and since the divorce, well, she had no desire to buy them for herself. To her, a gorgeous bouquet of flowers just reminded her of Ted and all the ways she’d messed up her life. But if Quinn gave her flowers, she could start to see a beautiful arrangement in a whole new light.

She disarmed her alarm and unlocked the door—and then scooped up the vase and carried it in.

Dropping her purse on the entry bench, she took the vase straight to the kitchen peninsula, where she set it carefully down. The card had a red amaryllis on the front and the single word, Bloom. Bloom was the shop that belonged to Quinn’s sister, Jody.

Whipping the little card off its plastic holder, she flipped it open and read Beautiful flowers always remind me of you. I hate that it went so wrong for us. I miss you.

Ted

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