Flowers on Main

by Sherryl Woods

  13

  B ree kicked her shoes off and put her aching feet up on the porch railing. Standing for so many hours during the open house had been exhausting, though not half as tiring as trying to maintain a smile and engaging in chitchat with people she hadn’t seen in years or barely knew. Though she’d been forced to do something similar at the after-parties following the opening nights of her plays, she’d never become comfortable with making small talk. She wondered how she’d endure it on a daily basis.

  Meantime, though, she had reason to celebrate. Other than the encounter with Jake, the evening had gone well. Beside her, Abby poured glasses of wine and passed them around to her and Jess.

  “Here’s to a spectacular debut,” Jess said when they each had their drinks. “Congratulations, Bree!”

  “I’ll second that,” Abby said just as the door to the house opened and Megan peeked out.

  “Is it okay if I join you?” she asked hesitantly. “I don’t want to intrude, but I’d love to help you celebrate.”

  “Sure, Mom,” Bree said, surprised by how pleased she was that her mother was here to share in her success. It felt right to be enjoying this moment with her sisters and her mother, almost as if they were a real family again, rather than women who’d been splintered apart by divorce and their various lifestyle and career choices. Connor had gone off with his buddies after the opening, but he wouldn’t have wanted to be a part of the traditional party post-mortem anyway. It was a woman thing.

  “Where’s Gram?” she asked Megan. “She should be here, too. After all, she’s the one who taught me everything I know about flowers and gardening.”

  “She was exhausted, so she went straight to bed as soon as we got back here,” Megan replied, accepting her glass of wine from Abby.

  “And Dad?” Bree asked.

  To her surprise, her mother looked vaguely guilty. “I suggested to him that this should be a girls’ night. Do you mind?”

  “Works for me,” Bree said. “Though Dad really did play a big role in tonight’s success. He built all the custom cabinetry in the shop. People were raving about it.”

  “He’s really trying to find a place for himself with all of us,” Abby said. She gazed pointedly at Jess. “Don’t you think so?”

  “I guess,” Jess said without enthusiasm.

  “Come on,” Abby chided. “He did as much as you’d let him do at the inn. He made an effort. Give him credit for that much, at least.”

  “True,” Jess admitted grudgingly. “I think he’s just trying to impress Mom, though.”

  Bree immediately shook her head. “I don’t think so. He was helping you before Mom even came down here for the inn’s opening and he had no idea she was coming when he started working on stuff at my shop.”

  “Well, I think he wants his family back,” Abby declared, then glanced pointedly at Megan. “All of us. So what about it, Mom? Are you going to give him another chance?”

  Even in the shadows on the porch, Bree could see the color climb into her mother’s cheeks. It made her wonder if the others knew what she did, that the split between her parents had involved more than her mother tiring of Mick’s absences. Certainly Abby had never mentioned any kind of flirtation with another man, so it seemed likely she didn’t know about it. Then again, she might be the first one to try to protect the rest of them from the truth and from being disillusioned.

  “Too soon to tell,” Megan said, then deliberately turned her attention to Bree. “Now let me ask you the question that’s been on my mind for hours. What on earth were you and Jake arguing about, Bree?”

  “Old news,” she said tightly, hoping to put a quick end to the subject.

  “Didn’t seem old to me,” Megan said, not taking the hint. “That kind of heated exchange suggests something else entirely.”

  “Well, I thought what Jake did tonight was very rude,” Jess said. “Forget the past, you’re a client now and he caused a scene at your party. I wouldn’t be quick to forgive that. It was tacky and unprofessional.”

  Bree sighed. “There’s a lot I need to be forgiven for, too,” she admitted, surprised to find herself defending Jake. “None of you know about that. There’s a reason why Jake is still so furious with me. And now I’ve pretty much backed him into a corner so he has to work with me. Neither of us have figured out exactly how to make that less difficult.”

  Megan regarded her worriedly. “Do you want to talk about whatever happened?”

  Bree thought about it. No one in the world was more supportive of her than these women, but she needed more time to sort through her own emotions. The truth was, she’d never really dealt with what had happened back then. Losing a baby, even one she hadn’t planned for, was a far bigger deal than she’d ever admitted to herself.

  Six years ago, she hadn’t allowed herself to mourn that loss. She’d seized the opportunity presented by the miscarriage and run…away from Jake, away from her memories, away from a commitment she hadn’t been prepared for, even away from her pain. Maybe if that internship hadn’t been awaiting her in Chicago, she would have stayed and faced what had happened with Jake. Maybe she would have felt what he’d felt, the aching loss of not only a child, but what might have been between the two of them.

  “Bree?” Megan prodded. “Are you okay?”

  She shook her head. “Not really,” she said, standing up. “But it’s nothing I want to talk about. I’m sorry to spoil the party, but I’m going to bed. I have an early morning tomorrow. I should try to get whatever rest I can.”

  Her mother started to speak, but Abby reached out and touched her hand, then gave a subtle shake of her head. Bree appreciated the gesture. Abby had always understood that she found solace in solitude, that she had to work through things on her own.

  She leaned down and gave her big sister a fierce hug. “Thanks for everything,” she whispered, her eyes damp with tears.

  “Anytime,” Abby said.

  “Give Trace my thanks, too,” Bree added.

  Abby looked surprised. “What did he do?”

  “He watched the twins so you could spend so much time helping me.” She grinned at Abby. “Unless, of course, you just left them locked in a closet the past few days.”

  Abby laughed. “Hardly. Thankfully, they’re in New York with their father this weekend, so I didn’t have to resort to locking them up. Those two would have broken out in no time, anyway. They’re very clever when they set their minds to something.”

  “I’m not sure I’d boast about something like that,” Megan warned. “It might encourage them to test their limits and your patience.”

  “Believe me, they already do,” Abby replied.

  Bree gave Jess a quick hug and kissed Megan on the cheek. “See you both tomorrow. Thank you for being there for me tonight and for being here to help me celebrate.”

  “Love you,” Megan said so softly Bree almost missed it.

  She hesitated, feeling a once-familiar warmth steal through her at her mother’s words. There’d been a time when she’d taken that love for granted, but no more. Now she felt a deep sense of gratitude that the bond was still there, tenuous, but getting stronger every day. “Love you, too, Mom.”

  And then, before her tears turned into sobs, she ran inside to the familiar comfort of the room she’d made her haven.

  But even surrounded by a wall of family photographs, shelves filled with her beloved books and a quilt made by her great-grandmother and brought over from Ireland, there was no peace tonight.

  Instead, there was only the image of Jake lashing out. His words had hurt, but it was the pain in his eyes that had cut through her. Talking wasn’t going to wipe away that pain. In fact, she had to wonder if the only way to end it would be for her to leave Chesapeake Shores.

  But even as the thought crossed her mind, she knew she wouldn’t go. Her family was here. She was making a fresh start here. And somehow she would find a way to right the wrong she’d done to Jake.

  Jake bought two
cups of coffee and two raspberry croissants at Sally’s, then settled behind the wheel of his truck to wait for Bree to show up at her shop on Saturday morning. Humble pie might have been more appropriate, but it wasn’t on Sally’s menu.

  He wasn’t entirely sure what had brought him over here at the crack of dawn. Oh, he knew he owed Bree an apology, but it could have waited until the next time they crossed paths. Nor was it Mack’s reminder that Bree was a client. That was the least of his concerns.

  No, he was pretty sure he was here because the shock and dismay in her eyes the evening before had eaten away at him all night. The two of them might have issues—a ton of them, in fact—but they were private. He’d had no right to so much as hint at them in front of half the town.

  In any other city, the scene might have been forgotten an hour after it happened, but it was evident from the silence that had fallen when he’d walked into Sally’s earlier that it wasn’t going to be quickly forgotten here. Even the usually amiable Sally had been surprisingly caustic with him this morning. Though she hadn’t mentioned the incident, it was plain to him she’d heard about it and didn’t approve of his behavior. Heck, he’d almost wound up apologizing to her, sure proof that he owed Bree an apology.

  Lost in self-loathing, he almost missed Bree’s arrival. She was already unlocking the shop’s door when he noticed her. Evidently she’d been caught up in her own thoughts, as well, because she was clearly startled when he slammed the door of his truck and crossed the sidewalk to follow her inside. She immediately scowled at him.

  “You!” she said, not sounding especially pleased to see him.

  He held up the bag with the croissants and set the extra-large disposable cup of coffee on the counter. “I’ve come with a peace offering,” he said.

  She opened the bag, peered inside, sniffed deeply, then frowned at him. “It’s going to take more than this,” she said, even though she immediately removed one of the croissants, broke off a bite-size piece and popped it into her mouth. Her expression turned rapturous in a way that reminded him all too vividly of other ways he’d pleased her back when it had taken little more than a light caress to elicit a sweet moan of pleasure.

  “I realize this is just a start,” he said. “Mack’s had his say. Sally’s ticked at me. Half the customers at the café were looking at me as if I’m lower than pond scum. I’m sure if my sister had seen me this morning, she would have punched me on your behalf.”

  “Was there an apology in there somewhere?” she inquired, studying him with mild curiosity.

  “Sorry,” he said solemnly. “Really, really sorry for causing a scene.”

  She tilted her head thoughtfully, apparently reading between the lines. “But not for what you said?”

  He winced at being caught. “I can’t take back all of it.”

  To his surprise, she nodded. “Believe it or not, I actually get that. I hurt you, Jake. I didn’t mean to, but I know I did. I understand you want payback.”

  She regarded him solemnly with those big blue eyes that had always made his knees go weak.

  “That’s not it,” he said defensively. Revenge wasn’t what he wanted. At least he didn’t think it was. He wanted to have that entire time exorcised from his memory. He wanted his life to be what it had been before she’d broken his heart.

  She ate another bite of the croissant, licked the raspberry filling from her lips with the tip of her tongue, then sipped her coffee, her gaze on him. “Then what do you want?” she asked eventually.

  “To be honest, that’s gotten a little muddy lately.”

  “Then I’ll tell you what I want,” she said, her directness a surprise. “I want to sit down with you and talk the way we used to. I want us to be friends again.”

  Jake was shaking his head before the words were out of her mouth. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

  “Because you’re still angry,” she said. “If we talked, though, put it all out there, maybe tried to see each other’s points of view, don’t you think we could move on, get back the friendship at least?”

  She was offering him an opening, a chance, something he’d once thought he wanted, but now he realized it wasn’t enough. How ironic was that? Not ten seconds ago he’d all but told her he didn’t want her in his life at all and now here he was admitting to himself he wanted everything they’d once had. Was he insane? Would he really be willing to risk going through that much pain for a second time? As committed as she seemed to be to this new business of hers, he still didn’t buy the idea that she’d stay here permanently. Writing was in her blood. Knowing that, only a fool would take another chance with her.

  “I have to get to work,” he said, backing toward the door. “I wanted you to know I was sorry about last night. Nothing like that will ever happen again.”

  In fact, he resolved on the spot that someone else would make the deliveries to Flowers on Main from here on out. Better not to take any chances, even if he could still hear Bree’s dare echoing in his head. Let her think of him as a coward. It was better than getting pulled in any deeper.

  She gave him a knowing look, as if she’d just read his mind. “See you,” she said casually. “Thanks for the croissant and the coffee.”

  “Good luck today. Connie will be in touch on Monday to see how things went.”

  “Connie?” she queried, one brow lifted. “Not you?”

  “Not me,” he confirmed. Let her make whatever she wanted out of that, he thought as he let the door close behind him, then climbed into his truck. He exercised massive restraint in not squealing out of the parking place to get as far away from Bree as he could as quickly as possible.

  Which gave him plenty of time to notice her standing in the doorway watching him, her expression sad, her hand lifting, then falling back to her side in an aborted wave. If he hadn’t been in such a hurry to escape, he might also have noticed his heart breaking all over again.

  After the totally frustrating encounter with Jake, Bree’s mood was dark as she readied the shop for opening. Abby and Jess had helped her clean up after the party the night before, but she still had a few new flower arrangements to finish and buckets filled with colorful bouquets to sit outside. Thankfully the early-September weather was cool enough to do that. She had a feeling those cheerful flowers were going to be her bestsellers, less expensive than a formal arrangement, but ready to pop into a vase to brighten a cottage for the weekend.

  By nine o’clock everything was in place, she’d experimented with her cash register until she could work it easily, and even run through a trial credit-card purchase to make sure she had the hang of that. She ate the last bite of the croissant Jake had brought, finished the coffee, took one last look around and then hung the Open sign on the door.

  Her first customer walked in at 9:01 a.m., already bearing an armload of the bouquets from the sidewalk display.

  “These are gorgeous,” she told Bree as she whipped out her credit card. “And I can’t tell you how excited I was when I spotted your shop last night as I drove into town. I have a houseful of company arriving at noon and these will add just the right festive touch to the dining-room table and to their rooms.”

  “I’m so glad,” Bree said as she rang up the purchase. “I hope to see you again.”

  “You can count on it. I think fresh flowers are the easiest way in the world to bring a house alive after being away. I’m Liz Patrick, by the way. My husband and I bought the cutest summer cottage two years ago. It was one of the original houses in town. We’re weekenders for now, though we’ve been talking about retiring down here in a few more years.”

  Bree introduced herself.

  The woman’s eyes immediately lit with recognition. “Your father’s the architect who designed the town, isn’t he? Please tell him how much we love our house. Every little detail in it is charming. It’s everybody’s fantasy of what a seaside cottage should be.”

  Bree nodded. “I’ll certainly let him know. He built everything in here, a
s well.”

  “Well, we’re big admirers of his work,” Liz said. “We waited for three years before one of his houses finally came on the market, and we’re so happy we did. Now, I’d better run if I expect to beat the mob scene at the grocery store.”

  “Goodbye, Liz. It was nice to meet you.”

  After she’d gone, Bree looked at the credit-card slip in amazement. Her very first sale and it had been a good one. Before she could blink, though, she’d had her second sale and then a third.

  By noon the buckets of flowers out front were mostly empty, and even four of her more lavish arrangements had been sold. She was flipping the pages of her receipt book when Mick and Megan walked in.

  “Was it a good morning?” her mother asked.

  “It was a fantastic morning,” Bree reported. “I couldn’t have asked for a better first day. I’m almost out of flowers and the day’s barely half over.” She grinned at her father. “I’ve had almost as many compliments on the interior of the shop as I’ve had on the flowers. People were asking me to pass along the name of my contractor.”

  “Maybe for the right price…” Mick joked.

  “Carpentry would be quite a comedown from what you’re used to,” Megan noted.

  Mick gave her an odd look. “It’s how I started,” he reminded her. “There’s nothing wrong with carpentry.”

  “I just meant you’d never be satisfied building the occasional custom cabinet after building entire communities,” Megan replied.

  Mick leveled a look at her. “You never know.”

  Bree decided to step in before they got into an argument about her father’s priorities and work habits. “I’m just grateful you did all this for me. So, what have the two of you been up to today?”