Madison has to drive by. She just has to.
By noon, it’s closing time. The blazing afternoon sun and heat of the day are too oppressive for the tourists. The gardenia flower tucked into my overalls has withered and turned brown. I chuck it into the brush. With slumped shoulders, I load up the truck with what little inventory I have left, board up the stand, and flip over a small closed sign. I sigh in defeat.
Oh well. At least I made a stellar profit selling everything at full price with no hagglers trying to pull a fast one on me.
As I crank the truck engine, I’m about to pull onto the road when a honking car startles me. Confused, I put my vehicle in park and wait to see what the fuss is about. I know my roadside stand is popular among the locals, and maybe someone is trying to flag me down for the last of my flowers for a party or some other kind of celebration.
But it’s not a local. The car pulls right up in front of me and I recognize the pretty driver grinning from ear to ear from behind the wheel.
Mmm… Madison.
“Hi, George,” she says, slamming her car door. She comes toward me with confidence.
I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly as dry as the Sahara Desert. My movements are stiff as I get out of my truck, and my nerves are on high alert. “Hi, M… Madison,” I croak.
Good. I managed to get in a hello. Check.
She splays her hand and holds it over her eyes to fend off the sun’s glare. Her pretty features are more casual without the red flaming lips of yesterday. Wearing flip-flops and a simple sundress with thin straps over her exposed shoulders, she seems relaxed and rested.
Gone are the pointy high heels and tight pencil skirt, her simpler weekend wardrobe stunning me into silence. I likethis version of Madison even better. Her hair is pulled back into a high ponytail, exposing her flushed cheeks, and I notice her toes painted a cheerful peony pink.
“I thought I might find you out here.” She grins. “You got any more of that lavender you gave me yesterday?”
I blink at her three times before I find my voice again. “I, uh… I’m sold out for the day.”
Her face falls, and my heart falls with it. I hate the look of disappointment marring her beauty. I quickly come up with a reply.
“B… but I can go home and get some more real quick. It’s just down the road.” I eagerly turn and point toward the farm, my voice amped up a notch with pure excitement. “You could even follow me and pick some yourself if you like. I could give you a private tour of the fields.”
Her frown morphs into a dazzling smile, making my pulse tick with pleasure.
I did that.
I made her smile with my simple suggestion. I feel lightheaded and downright giddy, my own broad smile making my cheeks hurt.
“I’d love to see the fields, George. The only problem is I’m on my way to Atlanta. But I’ll definitely be back.”
“You will?”
“Absolutely. Can I have a rain check?”
“A rain check?”
My brow furrows as I stare at her, unsure of what she means. This happens to me often when someone says something odd, which turns into a misunderstanding.
She patiently explains. “May I accept your invitation at a later time, when I’m back in town?”
“Oh. Yes, of course.”
“Great. I’ll see you soon, George.”
“See you soon.”
I watch her walk toward her parked car when I notice a wayward sprig of fallen lavender on the side of the road baking in the sun.
“Wait!”
She stops and turns around. I grab the stray stalk and present it to her with a wide grin. It’s not much, but in my mind, it’s something she can remember me for.
