There was a time, perhaps, when she’d believed that maybe Mr. Grimm felt a littlesomethingtoward her. But that was before. Before she’d walked in on the shocking sight of her employer with his hand clasping her roommate’s thigh and his mouth pressed against her roommate’s neck. Whatever illusions she’d begun to cherish were well and truly shattered in that moment.
A too-familiar sourness burned in Luna’s gut. Her grip on the rail tightened. Ever since that wretched evening, Mr. Grimm had taken such pains to put distance between them. He spent most of his time out in Garden, leaving her to manage the shop on her own save in those busiest hours, when an influx of customers prevented the two of them from interacting in any case. The 2 o’clock tea break had fallen by the wayside. Luna no longer bothered even to close the shop when the hour rolled around; she’d found that solitary tea breaks were no longer to her taste.
And so time slipped away, and her departure from Ballycastle drew near.
Just three more days,she reminded herself in the privacy of her mind.Three more days. You can do it.
She’d already packed her bags and written a note of apology to Bryony. She couldn’t tell her roommate in advance. No one could know. No one could even suspect. But she hated to leave Bryony in a lurch and had budgeted enough to leave half-a-month’s rent from her meager savings to help cover until a new garret resident could be found. Otherwise, she’d scrapedtogether everything she had and purchased a nonrefundable, one-way ticket to Bromley Bay. She would board the 4 o’clock mail train on Wednesday morning, and that would be that.
Where she would stay or how she would live once she reached Bromley Bay, well . . . she couldn’t think so far ahead. It didn’t matter anyway. She’d remained far too long in Ballycastle, let herself become too comfortable, too complacent. She must get away from here. Before it was too late.
The stairwell came to an abrupt end at a heavy industrial door. Mr. Grimm pushed it open with his shoulder and held it for Luna. She stepped through into the parking garage, surprised by the unexpected warmth in the air. A non-descript van sat in the designated vendor parking space. Mr. Grimm had rented it specifically to haul their creations from The Arcane Bouquet to the hotel. Perhaps, if he started taking more sizable commissions like this one, he would purchase a van of his own. Luna smiled a little at the thought. She liked to picture Mr. Grimm, motoring up and down the city streets, the yellow Arcane Bouquet logo emblazoned on the doors, proclaiming the freshest flowers in Eastside Ballycastle.
“Can I drop you somewhere, Miss Talbot?” Mr. Grimm asked, breaking the silence at last as they approached the van.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Feeling warm, Luna slipped the knit cap from her head and tucked it into her coat pocket. “I probably shouldn’t wander far. I’ve got to slip back to reclaim that violet at the end of the reception, so I might just while away the time in this neighborhood. Bally Park isn’t far from here. Maybe a little stretch of my legs. This Fool’s Spring weather is tempting.”
Mr. Grimm paused, his fingers on the handle of the passenger-side door. He glanced her way, then down at his feet. “You know,” he said, addressing the polished toes of his shoes, “Milo and Son’s is not far from here. They serve an excellent roast on Sundays.”
Luna’s heart gave a small hiccup inside. Was he inviting her to lunch? Or merely making a suggestion for how she might pass her time alone? It had been such a long time since they’d shared a meal together. He continued to leave his breakfast for her every morning, of course, but their semi-regular luncheons had gone the way of the 2 o’clock tea breaks. And she missed them. Badly.
But she kept her face neutral and her voice in check when she answered only, “Oh?”
“My treat, of course,” he continued, before forcing his gaze to meet hers. “Call it a tip. For your efforts these last two weeks.”
And there her heart went again. A treacherous littlepitter-pat,despite every effort to rein it in. She should turn him down, of course. She couldn’t afford to indulge like this, to remember what it felt like to be at ease with him. To be friendly and comfortable and . . . andhappy.Not with Wednesday looming large on the horizon of her life. For weeks now, she’d fought to keep her feelings in check. What disaster might a few short hours, spent in this man’s company, work? This shy, sweet man. Who watched her even now with such a strange mingling of trepidation and hope from under his lashes.
In the end, she couldn’t resist.
“That sounds lovely, Mr. Grimm.” Did he hear the fragility in her voice? Luna hastily cleared her throat. “Perhaps afterwards we might take in the park together too. Feed the ducks.” She shrugged, not wanting to come across as overeager. “Or something.”
His brows rose. “Is there any particular reason why the ducks must be fed?”
“Oh, yes,” she answered at once. “They say it is one of life’s great pleasures, feeding the ducks of Bally Park. Once one has fed such ducks, the very fabric of one’s existence is forever altered.”
Mr. Grimm nodded seriously as he opened the van door for her. “But what if one can never be satisfied with feeding lesser ducks thereafter?”
Luna bit her lip. She couldn’t help it. She justenjoyedthis so much. The way he always rose to her nonsense, giving equal, deadpan nonsense of his own in return. Never missing a beat, never making her feel silly along the way. She was going to miss that about him.
Oh gods. She was going to miss so much about him.
Stepping briskly toward the van, Luna took care to keep her tone light as she answered, “I suppose that’s a risk we will have to take for the sake of such rewards . . .” Her words trailed away as she stared inside the cab of the van. She froze, one foot inside, her hand gripping the frame. Her mouth slowly dropped open. “Green Mother save me!”
“What’s wrong?” Mr. Grimm peered around the door.
Luna pointed. “That’swhat’s wrong!”
An overlarge bundle of peonies, lilies, and lisianthus sat in the middle of the passenger seat. The peonies raised their dark leaves, waving cheerfully, without a care in the world, while the lisianthus yawned rudely, petals fluttering.
“What is that?” Mr. Grimm asked. “One of the table centers?”
Luna turned to him in round-eyed dismay. “No! It’s Miss Eugenia Lambert’s bridal bouquet!”
The next moment, she raced around to the back of the van and hauled it open. Because there was something wrong with that bouquet—she spotted it at once, but needed confirmation. Climbing into the back of the van, Luna searched through the debris left behind from carting all those arrangements across town. And there, hidden behind a bit of ribbon and a wad of floral paper, she found them: the violets. Meant to be part of the bouquet, but escaped from the rest and quivering timidly in hiding.
Luna scooped up the little blossoms and turned to face her employer, who stood at the back of the van, watching her. “ItoldMiss Eugenia violets weren’t a good idea,” she said. “Itoldher they would cause trouble. But she insisted that she wanted them, along with the lisianthus.”
“I don’t understand.” Mr. Grimm shook his head, his brow wrinkled. “We dropped off all the flowers for the wedding party before coming here to decorate. How could we have missed the bridal bouquet?”
