“Sure, but you don’t have to do italone.”
“I’m not alone.” I waved my hand with a laugh that was far from convincing. “I have Oscar the Grouch over there, and you’re doing my… taxes?”
“I amnota grouch,” Rhett grumbled from the corner in a very grouch-like manner.
Rachel blew a fire-engine red lock of hair from her eyes and grabbed another handful of receipts from my shoebox. “Georgie, your idea of organization frightens me.” She fanned them out on the counter between us and clucked her tongue. “Is the shop doing okay? I mean— there are a lot of expenses here.”
I swiped a donut from the bag to distract myself. “This is always a slow season, you know. Tourists are gone, the weddings are over, and there are no contracts until Fallfest.” It was a half-lie. My grandmother always knew how to keep business steady, even in the off months.
She tapped her chin. “I’ll talk to my bosses about getting fresh flowers in the cafe once your repairs are done. A little something on every table would be nice.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I blurted out.
That kind of steady income could be the difference between a stocked fridge and a constant stream of angry emails from credit card companies. I sucked in a sharp breath, eyeing the growing hole in my wall and the floral coolers covered in a thick layer of drywall dust. Making it all stretch untilafterthe repairs were done, on the other hand, was a completely different matter.
“Duh, I know I don’thave to.” Rachel pulled out her phone and her thumbs immediately began to fly across the screen. “You’d do the same for me, wouldn’t you?” Her eyes narrowed at me for a split-second as if to say,Don’t lie to me, Georgette.
I shifted uncomfortably in place, a flush spreading across my cheeks as I glanced from one person fixing my problems, to the other.
My grandmother never faltered. She never allowed anything—not floods from a storm or a baby left at her doorstep—stop her. If something broke, she fixed it; if someone needed her, she showed up. Her hands were always sure.
She left Marigold’s to me so I could carry that steadiness forward and be the same pillar she was.
Lately, I could almost hear her disappointment in the silence of the shop.
Chapter Eight
The knock came promptly at eight in the morning.
I was midway through a partially stale bagel, hunched over the kitchen table like a gremlin, and Easton barreled into the foyer with a round of ear-splitting barks.
“Easton!” I hollered, nearly tripping over the chair leg as it caught on my pants and careened to the floor. He paused, apparently calculating if I needed assistance, before breaking out into a series of howls at the offending door.
Rhett looked mildly terrified when I greeted him, bent over in the doorway as I tried to wrestle Easton into submission.
“Sorry,” I mumbled in his general direction, “He’s friendly, I swear. A littletoofriendly.”
To prove my point, he writhed in my arms, knocking into my jaw and sending me stumbling backward. I righted myself just in time to watch in horror as Easton sprinted in a circle around me, gained speed, jumped, and hurtled through the air with impressive agility for a dog with weight issues.
Rhett grunted on impact.
“What’s this one’s name?” He managed as Easton wriggled in his arms and left a trail of slobbery kisses down the side of his face.
“Easton.” I tried to keep from laughing as I ushered him inside and shut the door. “I’m so sorry, I’ve never seen him do that—” When I turned, I could swear I nearly fell over.
Rhett sat on the floor, a wide smile on his lips as Easton burrowed into his lap and flopped onto his back. He leaned forward and whispered something, then proceeded to laugh quietly to himself and scratch Easton’s belly. There was something boyish about the joy on his face—gone was the silent storm of a man who seemed hellbent on impassively fixing everything in his path.
And Easton melted right into him like cotton candy in a puddle. He’d always been a good judge of character, too. I still remember how he nipped my crush’s ankle out of nowhere at my graduation party. Later, I found out that I wasfarfrom the only girl he was talking to.
Something warm swelled in my chest as I looked at the two of them.
Warm? What was wrong with me?
“So… you like dogs?” I nearly squeaked. My breath caught in my throat when he looked up.
Rhett’s smile felt like finding a candle in a blackout. Whatever the feeling, it was dangerous.
“I love dogs,” he responded, returning to Easton when he whined for attention.
