I loved them, I truly did, but after spending almost a year making every decision for myself, returning home came with its own set of growing pains. You don’t realize how much space you’ve claimed until you’re forced to shrink again.
With a soft sigh, I bent down and picked up a handful of fresh roses, slipping them into a bunch of baby’s breath as I hummed quietly to myself.
The bell above the door jingled, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I looked up, forcing a polite smile as soon as I saw who had entered.
Mrs. Winchester.The town’s queen of gossip. She was sharp as a tack, nose always in everyone else’s business. I swear she could sniff out a secret faster than a bloodhound.
“Good morning, Mrs. Winchester,” I greeted as warmly as I could manage. “What can I do for you today?”
Her red hair was teased to new heights—defying gravity and good sense—and her overlined lips curved into something that resembled a smile.
“I need some tulips, dear.” She tapped her manicured fingers on the counter like she owned the place.
“Any color preference?” I asked, wiping my hands on my apron and stepping toward the cooler. She shuffled behind me, her low heels tapping impatiently.
“Oh, I’m not picky. Just no purple. Or yellow. Or red,” she said breezily.
I bit the inside of my cheek.Not picky,my ass.
She came in every week like clockwork, and every week it got harder to find a bouquet that didn’t spark a critique. I knew this wouldn’t be a quick transaction. She’d find something wrong. She always did.
With my back to her, I rolled my eyes and took a deep breath.
“So… pink?” I offered with a light laugh, pulling a bouquet from the cooler and turning to hand it to her. Tulips didn’t come in endless shades, after all.
Her eyes widened—not with joy, but mild horror.
“Oh!” she gasped, voice full of dismay.
“Is something wrong?” I asked, tilting my head, and studied her expression. Her smile was tight, eyebrows drawn together like I’d just handed her a dead fish instead of a bouquet of what I saw as gorgeous flowers.
“They’retoopink.” She handed the bouquet back.
Just as I’d expected, nothing was ever good enough on the first try.
I turned to the cooler and tried another bunch—this one a softer pink, almost white at the tips. I handed them to her, bracing myself.
She examined them closely, lips pursed in deep scrutiny. I figured she’d find a reason to hate these too.
Then, finally, her frown lifted.
“Perfect!”
I smiled and took the tulips to the front to wrap them in brown paper, all the while wondering if Mrs. Winchester had any idea how much patience it took not to strangle her with floral twine instead.
“You arenotgoing to believe what Mr. Fringle’s been up to,” Mrs. Winchester said with a dramatic huff, leaning closer like she was about to share a state secret. “That man is truly a pain in the ass.”
As much as I wanted to keep my head down and avoid getting sucked into another round of town gossip, I knew better. In Faircloud, sometimes the safest thing you could do was play along—nod, smile, and offer just enough to keep the peace.
“Oh boy,” I replied with a small laugh as I rang her up. “I can only imagine.”
Mr. Fringle owned Lolli & Pop, the candy shop wedged between the diner and the hardware store. He had a sweet tooth and a sour attitude, and ever since Mrs. Winchester’s husband passed away, he’d made no secret of his… interest in her.
“He’s been parking inmyspot every single morning,” she grumbled, letting out a dry, humorless chuckle. “I’ve told him again and again to knock it off, but he just keeps doing it. Bold as brass.”
I tapped my fingers against the countertop, offering a tight-lipped smile that hopefully passed for sympathetic.
