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“Well, then you’ll need something—or someone—to take out your pent-up aggression on,” Hannah said. “I have a couple gentlemen at my bar right now who would be happy to show you a good time.” Hannah’s voice sounded a bit more distanced as she said, “Here’s her picture. Yeah, she’s hot, huh?”
Great. So Hannah was showing Laura’s picture on her cell phone to random guys she was waiting on at the bar.
“I told you I’m not dating,” Laura said.
“Dating? I’m just trying to get you laid. You’re welcome.”
Laura laughed. Yeah, Hannah was not only her best friend but a great wingwoman. Too bad she didn’t need a wingwoman.
“Get your mind out of the gutter,” she said to Hannah. Speaking of gutter, the little shop still looked the same. Only it wasn’t so little anymore. The cute storefront that had once housed her mother’s flowers was still adorable, but from the outside it looked more like an office than a flower shop. Odd since it was a floral shop, no matter how home-and-garden her father had tried to brand it. Her father had told her some renovations had gone on over the years and business was booming, but these weren’t small renovations. She was staring down a full-blown warehouse with storefront curb appeal. Apparently Laura hadn’t realized just how much business had boomed.
That’s what ten years away will get you.
The large, white building with blue trim was still adorable. It was also now massive.
Last time she’d seen the place, it had been a small floral shop with a few plants and gardening supplies for sale. While the charming storefront remained, the entire place had been built up and out. The little shop was dark, but the massive warehouse that sat behind it looked well lit. It had once been her mother’s dream, and now it was her own future.
BAUGHMAN HOME GOODS
A large, proud sign in the same blue and white hung in the center of the building. Might as well have been a giant middle finger to her. Because she wasn’t sure how to tackle this place. It was her father’s business, but when her mother had died the summer she’d graduated high school, he’d told Laura the store was hers if ever she wanted it. A place to call home. Problem was, when her mother had passed, Laura had run. Far and fast from home. Because it felt empty without the woman she’d looked up to. Her father had been devastated, too, but judging by the looks of it, the past ten years had been good to him and the business. And Laura could use a bit of home now. She had her degree in design and marketing, but she hadn’t done much else over the past ten years outside of being Mrs. Graham Lincoln and slowly watching her self-esteem wither away. Which was why she was determined to not only put down roots she could be proud of, but be the woman her mother could be proud of. And it was time Laura took her life and planted some roots and succeeded.
Granted, that might be tricky, since she’d thought she’d get to run the floral shop she’d remembered. Not a gigantic home-and-garden supply store. Doubts were creeping in. The doubts that had been hammered into her head by her ex and that she was working hard at swatting away.
“Doubts you can’t afford,” she said, shifting again in her designer heels—one of the few things she’d gotten to keep in the divorce. Turned out, Graham had a better lawyer than she did, and Laura had escaped with her car, a couple of suitcases, and her fillings.
“Ah, crap, you’re talking to yourself again. Are you sure you’re okay?” Hannah asked.
“Yes,” Laura said on a breath. She used to give herself pep talks, and that wasn’t weird at all. Right?
Deep breath.
It was over.
Time for a fresh start.
This floral shop was hers, and staring down the building where her father had once cut dahlias for her mother, Laura knew she could make this work. This was her home. And once, a long time ago, she had been happy here. But that had vanished along with her mother. At least, she thought it had. Standing there, Laura felt closer to an answer, to her mother’s spirit, than she had in a long time. And damn it, she was going to chase that.
“I’ve got to go. I’ll see you tonight,” she said to Hannah and clicked off her cell.
She headed for the front door of the shop and glanced around . . . He should be here. He’d said he’d meet her.
“Dad?” she called out as she reached the front entrance. “Daddy?” she tried again, peeking into the window and seeing no one inside. With the sky getting grayer and no sign of anyone, she was getting worried he wasn’t there yet.
“Caught up in his crazy,” Laura mumbled. As if her father had somehow heard her, a crash of thunder boomed.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said as another drop of freezing water splashed on her forehead.
She hustled toward the entrance and pulled open the floral shop door, only to be greeted with a nearly dislocated shoulder, because the damn thing was locked.
“Hello?” she yelled and tapped on the window next to the door. She peered inside the other window to find a darkened room with a small seating area and a few clear-doored refrigerators. Refrigerators that should have had flowers in them, but didn’t.
So the flower shop was closed? On a weekday? Not a smart business move, considering the revenue the store would miss out on. That would be the first of many things she’d change around here. She might not have a lot going for her, like a home or a job or a boyfriend—not that she was looking, because that would go against her no-dating rule—but Laura was a damn fine marketing consultant. She may have struggled in her marriage, but what started as odd jobs in freelance marketing was slowly building into a career.
The warehouse was around back. It was a weekday during business hours—surely someone would be there. Maybe someone like her dad. Scatterbrained old man with a heart of gold. But because of all this, she’d have to walk around the entire building to see if the loading area was open.
Only in Oregon could the rain turn from a mild inconvenience to a damn Amazonian, end-of-the-world downpour in seconds. She trudged back into the rain, which was coming down harder. She tried not to cry when her Jimmy Choo got caught in a pothole.
“Shit!”
