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Not that Dahlia was unliked. But she was just more serious than Ruby, who was quirky dipped in brightness and glitter. An eternally sunny woman-child, who existed in a state of constant delight. Whereas Dahlia had been concerning the church choir director since she was twelve and had shown up at rehearsal for the Christmas pageant with black fingernails.
That had been the last year she had participated in that.
She just didn’t bring out joy or generosity in people the way Ruby did.
She’d been told she was intense. By more than one man she’d dated.
Obviously not a compliment.
It wasn’t a problem limited to Pear Blossom. She’d found she had the same issues when she’d been at college. The thing was, Dahlia believed in the truth. Finding it, telling it.
It was what made her a good journalist.
And no, she didn’t have a fantasy about traveling the world and uncovering hard-hitting stories. Her interests lay much closer to home, in the people and places around her. But she’d always been interested in the small, unusual things. In the quiet people.
She wanted to dig in, go deep, get to the bottom of the ordinary. She believed that was where the truly extraordinary lived.
Of course, casual interviews would be easier if she had Ruby’s people skills. People had called Dahlia’s gaze both “intimidating” and “laser like,” and sometimes her eagerness to go right for the deep waters didn’t benefit her.
But then again she imagined that grilling Ron Davis over the buying habits of the local populace in the internet age had come across as a tad bit... Well...
Intense.
And they went on like that, moving down the sidewalk, pausing for Ruby to greet Molly Hudson, the church secretary, and Pastor Lawrence. After greeting the latter, Dahlia’s boot caught on one of the raised edges of the sidewalk bricks, and she nearly pitched forward, but Ruby grabbed hold of her arm. The two of them stumbled about three steps together, and Ruby snickered, still holding her arm. “What exactly do you do without me?”
Dahlia brushed her hands down over her skirt. “Walk down the street without stopping every two seconds to have a chat.”
Ruby grinned. “How boring.”
Their arms still linked, they stopped in front of their sister’s boutique. The Apothecary was one of the most successful shops on Main Street. It was small, carrying a highly curated selection of bath and beauty products, plus a small selection of cotton and linen clothing, all made in small batches, with all-natural ingredients. Marianne did brisk business both in town and online.
Ruby pushed the white door open, and they were immediately swallowed up by the scent of lavender and soap. Marianne let out a short scream, and stood up quickly behind the white counter. She flew around to their side in a flurry of caramel-colored highlights and floral chiffon. “You’re home!”
She flung herself at Ruby, who laughed and embraced her back.
“You knew she was coming,” Dahlia said.
“But not here. Not this early. I’m so happy to see you.” Marianne waved a manicured hand in the air, her bracelets jingling. “Tell me everything. Tell us about London. And now that you’re home, and I don’t have to worry about you, tell me about all the crazy things you did.Pleasetell me you did some crazy things.”
Ruby ducked her head, her cheeks turning pink.
“Oh, yay,” Marianne said. “Please tell all that I might live through you.”
She went back behind the counter and grabbed a few bottles of lotion, putting them on the edge, a clear indicator that she wanted them to sample something. Dahlia was never one to turn down a free sample. And Ruby was never one to disappoint, so they both chose different bottles and squirted some onto their hands.
“I did a lot of wine tasting in Italy. And many a pub crawl occurred in England.”
Marianne rolled her eyes. “Is that it? What I want to know is, did Italian men occur?”
“At least one,” Ruby said.
“And how was it?” Marianne fixed Ruby with a keen look.
“You do not want to hear about that,” Ruby said.
“I do. Please indulge me.” Marianne clasped her hands in an over-the-top begging posture. “I have a business and a husband and children. And I am not a world traveler.”
“It’s not like you couldn’t travel if you wanted to,” Dahlia pointed out.
