Meet Me on Love Lane

by Nina Bocci

  Through the silence, I kept tearing small bits of napkin, piling them up in my lap. Glancing down, it looked like I was practicing making confetti.

  “So, English, huh? Do you like teaching?” I asked out of the blue.

  The reason for the nerves eluded me, but I thought they stemmed from having a history with Henry and not remembering it. Maybe it was the vestiges of a crush that I harbored at ten, or just the safety and innocence of reacquainting with a childhood friend again. Either way, there was a feeling simmering that made me fluttery.

  “Yep, English.” He smiled, pausing when a little girl wobbled between the tables. Henry cooed down at her, earning a toothless smile. It reminded me of the gentle expression he had when he kneeled down to speak to Gigi.

  “I knew from a pretty young age that I wanted to teach. Reading was always a favorite pastime for me, so I put two and two together. The bookstore is an added bonus. I teach at Barreton U in the summer as an adjunct,” he rambled, and I wondered if he was as nervous as I was.

  A different waitress came over asking if we were ready to order. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even look at the menu.” I remembered a chalk sign with specials near the door. “Just two slices of pizza and an iced tea, please.”

  Henry looked surprised. “We can wait if you want to check the menu out. They have a ton of options.”

  I waved him off. “This is good. I like judging places on their pizza.”

  The waitress grinned and turned to Henry.

  “I’ll have the same as the lady,” he said, smiling over at me.

  After the waitress left, he said, “So, florist, huh?”

  “Yep, I love it. And while I’m a nervous wreck about starting this place with Lucille, I’m excited, too.”

  “I think it’s a great idea. Emma seems to think so, too. A vote of confidence from her is going to go a long way. She has a lot of clout in Hope Lake. How’s Lucille to work with?”

  I smothered a laugh. “Honestly? I have no idea. We’ve never met.”

  “Say what now?”

  The waitress brought out the drinks and pizza, and I knew the pizza would be good. It was thin, cheesy, and looked like it had just the right amount of crunch to the crust.

  “Yep, haven’t met,” I said, pausing to take a sip of tea. “We’ve talked and texted, but she said she’s too busy running between here and Barreton, where her grandkids live, to actually meet in person.”

  “I have to admit, that sounds pretty awesome,” he said, taking a large bite of the pizza. “Nerve-racking but awesome. What does she do, give you a budget?”

  “Yep, exactly, and then I follow it and ask her for some direction if I need more money or need to change something.”

  I folded my slice together and bit down, moaning around the slice. “Delish. And, yes, it is totally nerve-racking, but she keeps insisting that I just do my thing. It’s sort of crazy, but I think Emma worked her magic on her, so she trusts me. Plus, I promised I’m not out to screw her. That wouldn’t have flown in New York, but here, you guys are unfailingly honest. It’s refreshing.”

  “Thanks?” he said, laughing. “It’s true, though. Most of the people here are kind and honest. Don’t get me wrong, there’s always a few weeds in the field, but for the most part, it’s wildflowers.”

  I glanced up at him wide-eyed. “What did you say?” I asked, the words taking hold and settling. “I feel like I’ve heard that before.”

  Henry remained silent, instead, sipping innocently on his tea.

  “Henry?”

  “It’s something Gigi used to say when we were kids,” he said, and he seemed to feel guilty about admitting it.

  My mouth fell open. “Why would she say that?” I asked, remembering the phrase but not the context.

  “There were some … kids in fourth grade who were a bit on the cruel side. Gigi wasn’t having it and would say things like that to make it a little better.”

  “Wow, really? I don’t remember anyone making fun of me,” I said, scratching my head. “Not that I remember much, but I figured that would have stood out.”

  He shifted in his seat, the wood creaking beneath his large body. “It was to make me feel better.”

  I blinked. Once again in sheer disbelief. “Kids were making fun of you?”

  He nodded. “It’s in the past. Gigi and, uh, some others were great for helping me through it. Once I had a growth spurt, the teasing faded away. It was tough being the smallest ten-year-old.”

  It was a growth explosion, not spurt, I thought, but judging by the way the waitress who’d just reappeared laughed, I said it out loud.

  “Check?” she asked, still smiling at me.

  It felt like we had just sat down, but after glancing at my phone I realized we’d been sitting there for nearly three hours chatting about work, his love for teaching, and my irritatingly inconvenient lack of memories. The time flew by in an instant.

  Henry, to his credit, didn’t laugh, but it looked like he wanted to. “Check is great, thanks.”

  After he settled the tab, we walked back into the town square area. Crowds milled about, tossing coins into the fountain in the center.

  There were empty benches scattered throughout the walkway.

  “Want to sit a bit?” I asked.

  He nodded, waving his hand for me to have a seat. The bench wasn’t exactly big, in fact I think I stopped in front of the smallest one. The one that put us nearly on top of each other. He shifted; I felt his thigh brush mine.

  I placed my hand on my lap, and my pinky touched his knee. My face warmed, and I thought about how silly I was being over a slight pinky brush.

  “What a gorgeous night,” I finally said, leaning my head back. I was trying to focus on anything but the stretch of warmth that was building between our touching legs.

  Henry mirrored my position, outstretching his long legs well past where mine ended but keeping them close to mine.

  “I keep thinking about when you said that you were the smallest ten-year-old. I think I remember being really tall for ten. Now look at us.”

  Henry’s long left shoe bumped into mine. “You were tall. You dwarfed me when we stood side by side.”

  I tapped his shoe back with mine. “Oh, how the roles are reversed,” I whispered, feeling the rogue pinky brush his.

  His hand fell to his side, putting it in the perfect place to touch mine. Intentional or not, it was the only thing I could focus on.

  A peal of laughter filled the night, and I sat up quickly. I stood, stretched, and turned in a circle to take stock of our surroundings. Couples were kissing good night beneath the large trees that lined the pathways that surrounded us. This town pulled every bit of magic out of each night. It was convincing me in the best of ways.

  He, too, stood and bent to touch his toes briefly before walking toward the road. He looked both ways and scratched his head. Henry didn’t have a car or his bike, since Nick never dropped it off, and I had no clear way to get home, but I didn’t worry about any of that. There was something peaceful about spending time with him, just us, and I wanted to do it again and soon.

  “Henry,” I said softly, feeling the flutter when he turned to me. The size difference was very noticeable here in the open. Without the walls of the bar closing in, he seemed like he was larger than life.

  “Charlotte?”

  I swallowed, swayed, and tried to find a focal point. That point just happened to be his lips. I leaned as he leaned, but his eyes cleared of the fog that had settled over both of us.

  With my heart thundering, I took a shot. “Would you want to have dinner again sometime? One that’s planned with just us in mind,” I asked, hopeful. It was the first thing that came to mind and I didn’t feel a stitch of regret. Say yes. Say yes.

  He looked up to the sky. “Have you changed your mind?”

  “My mind?”

  “About staying? Here in Hope Lake?” he asked, and that hopeful tone nearly made me fall to my knees. “You said
at the bookstore that this was temporary.”

  “No. I mean, I’ll be here for the summer. That’s sort of temporary, I guess. That’s three months for us to get to know each other. Again,” I said honestly, thinking, What guy wouldn’t want something casual for the summer? As soon as that thought entered my mind, so did Dr. Max. We’d been texting and it was nice, but for some reason I didn’t feel guilty. Probably because we hadn’t even been out on a date yet.

  He exhaled, remaining quiet for a beat. “I’m sorry, Charlotte. But the answer would be no.”

  “Can I ask why?” I asked, more irked than hurt. I couldn’t decide why I was annoyed, but I was. “I see you looking at me. I know you’re attracted to me. I’m pretty sure you can tell that I’m attracted to you; if I’m wrong, that’s on me.”

  Henry rubbed his large hands over his face, frustrated. His handsome face looked conflicted but steadfast. “You’re not wrong, but Hope Lake is my home. Not New York or San Francisco—here. I’m still hopeful I’ll have a life with someone who wants the same thing. Here is a part of that. You’re right on all those other points, but I’m not a short-term or casual type of guy. I can’t be, especially with you. You leaving again would really … well, let’s just say something temporary wouldn’t be good. It’s not how I’m wired. Maybe it’s old-fashioned dorky, but that’s me, and I’m not going to—”

  I held up my hand. “I get it.”

  Henry looked taken aback. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me.”

  I shook my head. “It wasn’t. It was straightforward, but that’s good. I know where you stand.”

  “I didn’t mean to offend you.” He began to reach out for my hand before he caught himself. “If I were a different man, I’d have asked you on a date the first day you arrived.”

  “Even though I’d just kicked you in the no-fly zone?” I teased, hoping to lighten the mood.

  “Your efforts to get me an ice pack from your father would have sealed the deal.”

  “I’ll remember that for next time,” I sputtered, when I saw his wide eyes. “I don’t mean when I kick you— Oh, never mind. We can still be friends, right?”

  A sadness flickered in his eyes.

  “Well, friends again.”

  Henry smiled, and for what was possibly the first time in my life, I had a grown-up discussion, semi-disagreement, and resolution with a man.

  Like an adult.

  And while the outcome may not have been exactly what I had wanted, I felt good about having another friend in Hope Lake.

  “Friends, again,” he parroted, and this time, he did take my hand. It wasn’t a handshake or a fist bump. He just held my hand sandwiched with his for the briefest of moments, and I missed their warmth once he pulled his hands away.

  Looking up at him, I felt the pull again. An invisible thread seemed to float between us. The Charlotte and Henry history may have been a mystery to my memories, but my feelings knew the whole story, and it seemed that they weren’t going to make ignoring our history easy.

  12

  About a week after the council meeting, I was full steam ahead on the festival plans, and the work on the shop. It felt good to be making strides toward something that I was excited about.

  “Can you guys see this okay?” I asked the four heads that appeared on my iPhone.

  Screen: Emma, Dad, Gigi, and Parker. None of them could be here at the shop with me because of their hectic schedules, and in Parker’s case, distance, but I wanted their input. The flower shop might be temporary, but there was no reason I couldn’t make it as awesome as I could while I was here. Emma had surprised me with a conference call where everyone could see the progress unfolding.

  “All good,” Emma said.

  “Yep,” Parker replied, a smudge of flour dusted across her cheek.

  “Looks great, Charlotte!” Dad said proudly.

  “Put the camera back by that guy in the tool belt,” Gigi shouted, earning a chorus of laughs from the workmen.

  “Mom!” Dad shouted, gaining another round of shouts.

  “Oh, live a little, Andrew,” she cackled. “You’re always ruining my fun.”

  “Dear God, control yourself, Gigi,” I teased. “Just let me hook this up to the selfie stick Emma left.”

  Once my phone was on the stick, I toured the entirety of the shop for my family and friends. “The color green on the accent walls is perfect. Emma, good call. It looks beautiful against the other two cream-colored walls.”

  “Glad you like!”

  “Charlotte, turn ninety degrees,” Parker shouted over the sounds of the band saw the workers were using.

  “What’s going in the two large windows?” she asked. “Shelving or shirtless models?”

  “I like the way she thinks,” Gigi chimed in.

  “Are those really my only two options?” I asked, smirking when I caught the workers listening in on the conversation. Not that it was hard—the phone was on speaker.

  “Yes!” Gigi and Parker said in unison.

  “I’m doomed with you two.” I laughed. “Sorry to disappoint, but it’ll be shelving.” I aimed the camera toward the stacked wood planks on the floor.

  “Listen, I’d love to stay on here and check these workmen—I mean your progress—out, but I have eleventy billion cakes to bake, frost, and deliver today. I love you, C.”

  With that, Parker was gone.

  “What are those?” Gigi asked, pointing to something behind me.

  Not something. Something.

  “Oh, uh, just a test bouquet,” I lied, turning the camera so they didn’t see the vase full of flowers that were front and center on my worktable. The ones that were just delivered by FedEx and that didn’t include a name—just a card with a single violet flower drawn on it. The bouquet was bursting with zinnias, foxgloves, irises, and sweet peas. It was beautiful but not exactly my taste.

  “You don’t have those types of vases,” Emma chimed in.

  Damn it. She knows the inventory that well?

  “You’re right, I don’t,” I said flatly, hoping the topic would drop.

  I watched realization dawn on Gigi that they were flowers. Not of my own design, but from someone, and she had the most Gigi-like response.

  “Oh, speaking of cakes to bake or something,” Gigi said before clearing her throat loudly. “Andrew, we have that thing to do. Bye, Charlotte.”

  “What thing, Mom?” Dad said confusedly, looking at his mom, who had already hung up her phone and suddenly appeared in Dad’s screen view, zipping over to him with her chair. “Hang up!” she howled, shaking her fist at her only child.

  “Ow, uh, bye!” Dad said just as Gigi’s hand connected with his arm.

  “I’m going to pretend that all of this isn’t hugely suspect and just go with the flow because I’m damn busy. Are you staying or also going in a weirdly suspicious fashion?”

  Emma laughed. “I’m staying on for a bit longer. I’d like to know about the mystery flowers. So unless you want me to keep asking … spill.”

  Truth was, they were as much a mystery to me, too. “They showed up a couple of hours ago. Just the box and vase.”

  “No card, huh. I mean, they have to be from Max, right? Who else would send flowers?”

  I shrugged, walking the phone over so she could see them clearly. “They’re pretty. Not exactly what I’d pick for myself, but I can appreciate the design.”

  “They are a bit ostentatious,” she agreed.

  “This company isn’t cheap, either. They’re the kind that sell a design and then upcharge to get fuller bouquets. This has to be the top of the line,” I explained, admiring the fullness of the arrangement.

  “Are you going to ask Max?”

  I nodded. “I texted him after they arrived. He hasn’t responded yet, but he usually doesn’t when they have patients all day.”

  “Are you still thinking of dinner? Drinks?”

  “I know I’ve been on the fence with Dr. Max, but if I’m being honest, it�
�d be nice to socialize and get out to have some fun. At least he doesn’t care that I’m not staying in Hope Lake.

  “Yeah, I mean besides the stroll behind Gigi’s house that night, there hasn’t been a lot of time for us to get to know each other. Since he got back from New York he’s been busy, and I haven’t had a free minute to breathe, let alone date. I’ve been here twelve hours a day! Once the shop opens and I’ll have normal hours again, I’ll take him up on the offer.”

  I looked around the shop. Things were coming together, but there was still a bit of work to be done. I made a mental note to send a message to Lucille, telling her that we were in good shape but that we might not have all the product by opening day. The delivery schedule was a bit of a mess, but she said she’d handle it. A couple of more brutally long days on my end and things would be ready to roll. With any luck, I’d have a normal eight-to-four day—something I had been dreaming about for years.

  “I can’t believe this place opens so soon, Emma. Are you sure you don’t want to wait until July for a big grand opening?”

  “I’d love to,” Emma said, her head moving in and out of the phone screen. “But with the festival, the timeline is too tight. At least this way we can get some excitement built for this place. PS, if I haven’t mentioned it, Late Bloomers is a great name for the shop. Catchy.”

  I smiled. “I always said it’s what I’d name my own shop if I ever got one. It’s because you’re never too late to find your thing. I think that’s what sold Lucille on it, too. When we spoke before she left to visit her daughter, she said that she still hadn’t come up with a name for the place. When I suggested it, she was sold.”

  “I love that she went with your idea. It’s perfect. And I told you she wanted to be super hands-off.”

  “She is. It’s a little crazy when you think about it. I keep thinking it’s too good to be true, but she has agreed to everything I suggested so far.”

  Emma looked like the cat that got the canary. “Told you.”

  “Yeah, yeah. You were right. This has been great so far.”

  Emma smiled and pretended to brush off her shoulder.