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I smiled at that because I usually agreed with her to get her off the phone. If I was difficult, it was because I wasn’t making the decisions she wanted me to. I was done with her making me feel this way. “I have to get back to work. I’ll talk to you at the party.”
I wanted her to know I wouldn’t be entertaining any of her calls about the unsuitability of my clothes or my date. I clicked off before she could say anything else.
When would I learn? I kept subjecting myself to her over the years because I was her daughter, and it was the nice thing to do. But she didn’t give me anything in return. She didn’t support me. She didn’t love me for who I was. Maybe she thought she did by her controlling ways. But not when she was trying to change me or mold me into the person she wanted me to be.
The next time the bell over the door rang, my stomach was rumbling with hunger. I came out of the backroom, my hands raw from cutting and arranging flowers for the displays. Sometimes it felt pointless, when so few people came into the shop.
I smiled as I entered the front of the shop, hoping this person was a paying customer. Instead, it was Jake. He stood by the door, looking out of place in his Harbor Garage T-shirt, worn jeans, and work boots. To me, he’d never looked better.
“What are you doing here?” I crossed the room to stand in front of him.
“I brought lunch.”
“Thank God. I’m starving.” I flipped the sign fromOpentoBe Right Back, grabbed his hand, and led him to my office.
The white walls were covered with framed pictures of flowers I’d taken over the years. I wasn’t a photographer, but I loved being surrounded by them. A fresh bouquet of flowers sat on the corner of my desk, and I moved it so he could set the take-out bag on it.
“It’s just sandwiches.”
“I’m so hungry, I could eat anything.”
He pulled out one wrapped sandwich, handing it to me. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like. It’s turkey on rye with pickles and mayo on the side.”
I smiled at him as I unwrapped it, adding the pickles and the mayo. “This is perfect. Thank you.”
He tossed a bag of barbecue chips next to me before sitting down to unwrap his sandwich.
Noting the logo on the side of the to-go bag, I said, “I love this new deli. It reminds me of a place my grandfather took me as a child.”
“Was that here in town?” Jake asked as he tossed a jalapeño chip into his mouth.
“Yeah, he’d take me when I’d visit in the summers.”
I couldn’t explain to anyone else how a turkey sandwich from this deli was so much better than one from anywhere else, but it was. “Maybe it’s the pickles.”
“There is something special about the pickles,” Jake said with a grin.
We ate in silence for a few minutes with nothing but music from my playlist playing.
“What are you listening to?”
“Oh, it’s a local cellist, Alex St. James. He’s a doctor, but he plays on the side to raise money for his patients. I think it started out as a hobby, but it’s taking off for him.” I followed his social media pages, and he’d been asked to play in larger venues.
“I like it.”
At my surprised expression, Jake added, “You didn’t think I’d like string music?”
I laughed. “No, but I guess I should be used to you surprising me.”
“I’m not a cliché.” Jake said it lightly, but I could tell it bothered him.
What would he think of what my mother had said? He’d hate it.
Jake gathered his trash and held up the invitation to Cora’s grand opening. “What’s this?”
I shrugged. “My sister’s having a party to celebrate the grand opening of her new practice.”
“Are you going?”
