The only “job” Rome approves of is helping out Erin here. Her head lifts from behind a mountain of white roses, and her whole face changes.
"You're here," she beams, already coming around the counter with her arms open.
We hug hard. She smells like soil and flowery perfume, and I hold on longer than casual because I need to. Because she's the closest thing I have to a sister and I've missed her so much.
"I'm here," I mumble into her shoulder, muffled and a little pathetic, but I don't care.
"You look tired," she says softly, pulling back to study my face.
"I look fantastic."
"You look tired and fantastic," she amends, smiling.
"I'll take it."
She pulls me behind the counter, hands me an apron,and points at a bucket of dahlias that need trimming. No preamble. No treating me like I'm fragile. Just: make yourself useful.
I love her for it. Rome would have made me sit down. Would have asked if I was sure I was up for this. Erin just hands me scissors and lets me work.
She's the only person who called my gap year a gap year instead of a mistake.
"Rome called me twice this morning," she mentions casually, snipping a stem without looking up.
"Only twice?" I grab a dahlia, start trimming like she showed me. "He's growing."
"He wants you to go to Portugal."
"I know."
"He says you need to rest."
"I am resting."
She glances sideways at me. "You're trimming dahlias."
"Restfully."
She shakes her head, but she's still smiling. She knows better than to push. Rome pushes until I want to scream. Erin just lets me be and she figured out a long time ago that the best way to care for me is to let me make my own decisions, even when they're probably stupid.
The door bangs open so hard the bell doesn't even get a chance to chime.
"Oh my God, she's actually here!"
Ruth enters like weather. She is a force of nature in a fleece vest and reading glasses, carrying coffees, her grin practically aggressive.
"Hi, Ruth," I greet, but she's already setting the coffees down and grabbing my face with both hands.
She holds me there for exactly three seconds, examining me like I'm a painting she's appraising.
"Unreal," she declares. "Disney princess face. You should be illegal."
"I'm a real person, Ruth."
"Don't roll your eyes at me, missy," she scolds, finally releasing my cheeks. "Nobody looks like this in February. It's twenty-eight degrees. You should look terrible. Why don't you look terrible?"
"Genetics and spite?"
She laughs, loud and delighted, then kisses my cheek with a loud smack. Then she turns to Erin like I'm no longer the most interesting thing in the room.
