Arlene James - Love in Bloom

“Children,” Lily whispered.

“Not all,” Coraline refuted. “The last, the one who didn’t speak, was the mother of a student.” Shocked, Lily blinked. “Shyness can be a burden and a handicap,” Coraline went on. “You are not handicapped, I think, but you’ll be burdened until you learn to accept yourself as God made you.”

Lily drew back at that, not quite sure what to make of it. As usual, she chose to do what she always did when puzzled; she tucked the idea away for perusal later.

“You’re a member of the SOS Committee.”

“That’s right. Welcome to Bygones.”

“Thank you. I—I’m glad to be here.”

Coraline laughed. “That sounded a bit tentative.”

Lily’s slender hands fluttered. “Oh, I’m just... That is, I only got here last night, and it’s a lot of work. But I’ll have everything ready for the opening. I’m sure I will.”

Coraline nodded and glanced around. “Is everything to your liking?”

“Oh, yes. I love the shop. And the apartment, too, though it’s rather bare right now. But that can wait.”

“All right. I assume that Tate Bronson has been in to see you.”

“He was here a good part of the morning, actually.”

“I see, and did he say when he would return?”

“No, not really.”

Coraline nodded thoughtfully before asking, “Do you need anything?”

Lily looked around the shop. What she needed most was encouragement, confidence, but she couldn’t very well say so, not even to this kindly woman. She shook her head.

“Well, I won’t keep you longer than necessary,” Coraline said. “I know how busy you must be, getting ready for next Monday’s big event. I just wanted to let you know what the committee has planned for that day.”

She went over the details, noting that immediately after Independence Day, the patriotic decorations would come down and the Grand Opening banners would go up. Each of the new businesses would be showcased in a special edition of the Bygones Gazette, the local weekly newspaper, on the Friday before the Grand Opening. Following the close of business on that first Monday, the committee would sponsor a reception in the Community Room across the street.

“Tate will be your official host that day.”

Lily nodded. “That all sounds great. I have a fresh flower delivery coming on Friday morning, so everything should be in place in plenty of time.”

Coraline smiled. “Wonderful. Well, it was nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” Lily replied, offering her hand. “Come again. Soon.”

Instead of shaking hands, Coraline gave her another quick hug. Afterward she tilted her head, asking, “Would you mind if I prayed for you?”

“Not at all,” Lily exclaimed, smiling broadly. “Please do.”

Coraline patted her cheek again and left her. Lily sighed, pleased. She felt that she had at least two friends now, Miss Ann Mars and Coraline Connolly. It would be stupid of her to wish that she might count Tate Bronson among their number; more than stupid. It would be part of the same unhealthy pattern of the past, part of what she’d left Boston to get away from, what she needed to leave behind and avoid in the future. No, she wouldn’t wish to count Tate among her friends, but if it should happen... Turning off that thought, she went back to work.

* * *

Miss Mars dropped in on Wednesday with both breakfast and lunch. Others came by to say hello, beginning with the shop owners on either side of Love in Bloom: Melissa Sweeney from the bakery on the corner and Allison True from the bookstore on the other side of the flower shop. Josh Smith went up and down the street distributing cups of coffee from his first official brew. The Cozy Cup Café—on the corner opposite the bakery—was ready for business, he declared, so he stayed to get Lily’s computer system operational before moving on to do the same for others. The mayor came by to say hello and welcome her to town, as did the chief of police, Joe Sheridan. Both were members of the SOS Committee.

Whitney Leigh, a serious young reporter with the Bygones Gazette, spent a few minutes getting background information for Friday’s special edition, but Lily’s stammering answers didn’t seem to impress her very much, so she didn’t stay long. Other than asking how many years of experience Lily had as a florist and who she thought the mystery benefactor might be behind the grants, Whitney only asked a few questions about the specials Lily intended to offer for the Grand Opening.

Lily knew she shouldn’t feel anxious, but she couldn’t help it. So much seemed to be riding on this enterprise, and she couldn’t help feeling unequal to the task. Even as the others ventured in and out of her shop, she wondered when Tate and Isabella would return. She considered calling Tate to ask his advice on a number of small issues but couldn’t bring herself to do it. Instead she got out the paint cans and a brush and tackled the counter.

When Miss Mars closed her shop early and went upstairs, then came down again wearing a hat and gloves with her usual shirtwaist dress, Lily realized that she’d have to do dinner on her own. A moment later an aging but well-kept blue sedan pulled up to the curb, and Miss Mars got inside with another woman. The car drove away, turning left onto Bronson Avenue. Feeling abandoned, Lily gave herself a stern talking-to. She had moved halfway across the country on the basis of a newspaper article. The least she could do now was walk down the street to the grocery store on her own. Determined, she left the shop and set out.

With only three checkout lanes, all currently unmanned, the Hometown Grocery didn’t have much to recommend it when compared to the stores in Boston. The fresh produce department would have fit neatly into the bed of a pickup truck, and the butcher department had obviously been shut down, leaving only a single refrigerated case of packaged meats. Lily wandered the aisles virtually alone, without even the company of piped music to mute the squeak of the wheels on the shopping cart. Nevertheless she found all the ingredients for a fine salad, including a small tin of cocktail shrimp and her favorite bottled dressing. She gave up trying to find a suitable bread to eat with it and settled for crackers, thinking that the new bakery was going to do well here. While she was at it, she bought a few things for breakfast and lunch the following day, too.

Knowing that she couldn’t carry more, she resisted the urge to buy kitchen gadgets from the selection offered and approached the checkout, surprised to find that a tall thin brunette had materialized from somewhere. The brunette displayed quick efficiency, her thin dark hair scraped back into a tight ponytail.

“You must be the florist.”

“Yes. Yes, I am. Lily Farnsworth.” She handed over several bills, smiling.

“Heard about you from Tate,” said the brunette, making change.

“Oh?”

This elicited a nod as the woman began bagging the groceries.

Lily couldn’t help wondering just what Tate had said or where he was keeping himself, for that matter. She thought he was supposed to be her host.

“Where is everyone?” she asked tentatively.

“Wednesday evening,” the woman replied, as if that was answer enough. When Lily just blinked at her, she added, “Most folks are in church for midweek service.”

“Ah.”

“Folks don’t have midweek service back in Boston?”

“Some do, yes.” But Lily’s church had not.

“Hereabouts, nearly everyone goes to midweek service,” the checker said. “We rotate shifts here at the grocery so no one has to miss the service more than once a month.”

“I see.”

“Folks in Boston must eat shrimp,” the checker commented cheerfully, pushing the bags toward Lily.