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I stopped at the local florist shop, Petals, on the way home to grab a fresh bouquet of flowers. My mother always loved getting flowers from my father, and I’d never forgotten how her eyes would light up every time.
Brody grumbled the entire time, but I used the experience as a teaching moment. I wanted him to treat girls with respect.
Abby owned a small home in an older neighborhood.
“Will we have room to play baseball?” Brody asked.
“I think so,” I said, knocking on the front door.
Hunter opened it and said, “Come on,” like he’d been waiting hours for us to show up. They disappeared down the hallway, so I closed the door behind me and followed the smell of chili to the kitchen.
I found Abby in the kitchen cutting a loaf of bread.
“It smells great,” I said.
“Thank you.” Abby turned to wash her hands in the sink and dry them with a nearby towel.
When she was done, I held up the bouquet. “The woman said the bouquet was her harvest one.” I could only identify the sunflowers and roses, but they were a combination of oranges, reds, and yellows.
“That will look perfect on the table.” She took them from me to smell and admire them. She had that same expression on her face my mom used to.
“Can you grab the vase?” Abby pointed to the top cabinet next to the stove. I grabbed the Balljar and held it out to her. “This one?”
“That’s it.”
She trimmed the stems, filled the jar with water, and added the provided plant food. She admired it for a few seconds on the counter. “It looks great. I almost don’t want to move it.”
The stems were tightly arranged. “You could almost split it into two vases if you wanted.”
“That’s a great idea.”
I grabbed the second jar I’d seen on the same shelf and handed it to her. She removed some of the stems and arranged them in the second vase, moving the larger one to the mantel. Her fireplace was actually an electric one with shelves on either side. It was filled with framed photos of birds, boats on the water, and lighthouses.
“Did you take these?” I asked over my shoulder.
“I did.”
“But your business is only portraits, weddings, and other events?”
She nodded. “It was steady income when I had Hunter. But I prefer being in nature and capturing wildlife.”
“I can see that,” I murmured as I looked from one photo to another. She was clearly talented. The pictures were crisp and clear, and it had obviously taken patience to capture the various wildlife in their natural habitat. She’d taken pictures of snakes, birds, and the sunset over the water.
“Do you sell these?” I’d love to have a few in my home. Not only were they spectacular, but they were even better because Abby had taken them.
She laughed and shook her head as she returned to cutting the crusty bread. “I’m focused on the wedding business for now. I take the occasional senior portraits. It’s steady income. It’s the smart thing to do.”
“Do you always do the smart thing?” I asked before I could filter my words.
Abby pursed her lips. “When you’re raising a child on your own, you make decisions that will provide security and safety. I don’t have the luxury of pursuing my passion.”
“Maybe it’s something you could still do on the side.” I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t taken her cue and backed off. But it was such a shame to let her talent go to waste. I was positive her pictures would sell in the local shops to tourists and locals.
“Maybe,” she said noncommittally, placing the sliced bread platter in the center of the kitchen table.
I peeked into the room next door—her office. I wanted to peruse her space, but she hadn’t invited me to.
