by Staci Hart
I snatched the dish from his hand with an amiable smile. “What can I say? I love some good hammer-and-nail action.”
“Oh, we know,” he said on a laugh.
“Really,” Mom kept on, following us into the dining room, “I never knew you were such a carpenter.”
“Always was good with wood,” Kash said, tossing a broccoli floret into the air and catching it in his mouth.
I rolled my eyes, setting down the dish and taking my seat. But before I could change the subject, Mom did.
She opened her napkin, laying it in her lap. “I heard Wendy came to the shop today. I didn’t know she was in town.” The statement was pointed.
I glared at Jett, who shrugged, wide-eyed.
“Oh, please,” Mom said. “There are no secrets in this house. The Bennets are known for many things, but tight lips is not one of them.”
My siblings at least had the good sense to look cowed. One scan informed me that Jett told Laney, and she told Kash, who would have told anybody who’d listen, even Marcus.
“What did she want?” Mom asked, dishing out rice, catching my eye for a heartbeat.
“Just to say hello,” I answered, which was truth enough.
Mom snorted a laugh. “I can’t imagine that was all she wanted.”
“She moved back,” I admitted. “She and her boyfriend broke up.”
That earned me a look from the entire table.
“Don’t gimme that,” I said, ignoring them in favor of the meat. “I sent her on her way.”
They were still looking at me.
I set the fork on the dish and gave them all a look right back. “I’m not interested in anything Wendy has to offer or ask for. All right?”
Mom took the fork and dished herself a cut of chicken. “Well, you can’t blame us for being suspicious. She’s done everything she can to hurt you, Lucas, and I’d rather not see that happen again.”
I sighed. “She doesn’t mean to.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that she did—and will again, if you give her the chance. She’s not your responsibility. Not anymore. Not after what she did.” Mom’s face was hard, but her eyes were on her task.
She was right, of course. Wendy wasn’t my responsibility. But it felt like she was.
I wondered if I’d ever be free of that feeling.
“I’m just a friendly face,” I assured her.
Which earned me an acerbic glance from my mother. “Just don’t let anything else be friendly with her.”
Kash snickered. The rest of the table seemed to relax. They knew I’d never be friendly with Wendy, not when I had Tess.
“Is she staying with her parents?” Mom asked, her voice tinged with worry.
Because here was the saddest of all truths: despite all that had happened, even my mother wanted Wendy to be happy and safe. We all wanted to save her because there were so few people left who would.
But we couldn’t save someone who didn’t want to be saved, no matter how badly we wanted to.
“Her mom. Her dad’s gone again.”
Mom made a scornful noise. “Blowing his paycheck in Atlantic City, no doubt. Is her mom all right?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Really, I just wanted her out of the shop and gone.”
Marcus was frowning mightily. “She knows we’re revamping the shop then.”
I nodded, exchanging a meaningful look with him.
Wendy had been dumped. The flower shop—and thus my inheritance—was back in play. It was a matter of survival. Where else could she go? It was true that I hadn’t held down a job for more than six months, but that was by choice. Wendy had been fired from every job she’d ever had. She couldn’t take care of herself. So she used her charm to make connections with people who could take care of her.
It was all of that, true. But it was more than that too. Because I was her safe place. Had I been able to provide for her the way she thought she needed, she wouldn’t have cheated. And if she hadn’t cheated, I’d probably still be married to her.
I stifled a shudder that crawled up my spine. Now that I had Tess, now that I saw what could be, the comparison was stark and terrifying. What Wendy and I’d had wasn’t true love. Dependency, guilt, fear, desire. But looking at my parents, looking at what I had with Tess, I realized love was more than that.
It was equality. Respect. Trust. And I had none of those things with Wendy.
“Well,” Mom said, carving her chicken daintily, “I hope she’s all right. And I hope she leaves you alone, for all our sakes.”
Dad caught my eyes as he chewed a mouthful, swallowed with deliberation, and said, “We’re planting a raised row of marigolds.”
That was all it took to divert them all, just as he’d planned. Mom lit up and asked what colors and breeds. Kash started on about the new planting system they were in the process of installing, which would double our grow space vertically. Laney brought us up to speed on the website and social, and Marcus got us through the rest of the meal, informing us of the new computer system, which would be in place this week.
I sat among my family, and for once, I said nothing.
Instead, I thought about Wendy. About what she could want and how she could wreck things with Tess. And then I considered all the ways to stop that from happening.
An hour later, dinner had been cleared, the dishes cleaned, dried, and put away. And the family dispersed, my mother last with the declaration of a bath and a book—two of life’s great pleasures, she’d noted matter-of-factly.
And with her exit, Dad and I were alone in the kitchen, eating cookies out of the jar between us in silence.
“You talked to Tess?” he finally asked between bites, watching me with clever, knowing eyes.
I nodded, swallowing. “I did. She was shocked.”
“Well, that makes all of us.”
We chuckled and slipped into silence for a moment again.
“What do you think Wendy wants?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I honestly don’t. Could be a play to get me back, might be about money. Or it could be as simple as getting dumped and coming home. But I meant what I said. I’m through with her.”
He bobbed his head. “Yes and no. You’re never really through with her, are you?”
“I can’t just … I don’t know. Push her away. I don’t know where she’ll go or what she’ll do if I cut her off completely. I’ve just got to be honest with Tess, and I’ve got to keep as much distance between me and Wendy as possible.”
“Wendy loves you as best she can. And you love her. You went through too much together not to. But Wendy is a loose cannon—we don’t know what she’ll do or when she’ll do it. She’s dangerous in that way, and I know you know that. I just thought it served to say it aloud. I don’t want you to get hurt, son. And I don’t want you to lose what you’ve found with Tess because of Wendy.”
Exhaustion slipped over me, bone deep and heavy. “I know. But if she calls me, I don’t know how to ignore her—I’ve seen what happens to her when I do. I don’t know how to survive the guilt any more than I know how to handle her when she needs me. All I can do is be there if she’s in trouble and make sure it’s clear what she and I are and what we aren’t. And Tess—I’ve got to tell her about Tess. But Dad, it has to be me to answer the call. Wendy doesn’t have anybody else.”
He watched me for a moment, lowering his hand to the counter. “Your mother’s right, you know. You aren’t responsible for her.”
I shook my head. “I know. But if anyone can help her, it’s me.”
Dad nodded, shifting to grasp my shoulder. “You’re a good man, Lucas. And I’m proud of you. Of the man you’ve become. Just know what you’re worth and give your love to the people who will give theirs back to you.”
He turned, taking a bite of his cookie as he walked away. And I hoped against hope that I knew what I was doing.
17
FUDGE RIPPLE
TESS
I’d barely slept in
days, and I’d never been happier.
We’d been in full beast mode, prepping the store for the magazine editor—a new photo corner, some new hanging displays using fresh flowers to replace the dried ones, a rearranging of the furniture to include more tin buckets for our market bouquets. Luke had even refinished a beautiful hutch that we’d stuffed with curios and potted plants.
None of us had stopped moving, and today would be no different. But despite my exhaustion, I bounced out of bed, ready to tackle my insurmountable list with the determination to surmount it.
The house was a wreck of supplies and half-finished projects, though the renovation was finally coming together. I could see the light, the finish close enough to envision. And Luke had done exactly what he’d said—he’d kept Mom present. An accent wall of her ugly, old wallpaper, bracketed by simple, modern curtains that stretched floor to ceiling, the effect making the wallpaper look vintage rather than dated. The cabinets still held the familiarity of what they’d once been, spruced up with a coat of fresh white paint and new hardware. A new couch and TV stand—an antique sideboard from the shop’s storage—had updated the whole feel of the place, but we’d kept the old rug, tying her back in with a thread that ran throughout the whole house.
I found Dad eating a bowl of Cheerios in the early morning light.
“Mornin’” he said around a full mouth. “Get any rest?”
“A little. We’ve got a big day today, but I’m not tired. Isn’t it strange?”
He chuckled. “Passion will do that to you.”
I smiled, thinking about Luke. “Funny how things change,” I mused. “I never thought I’d enjoy it so much.”
“It’s easier to see, the older you get, the more seasons you endure. Everything is temporary, no matter how we try to fight it. But when we embrace the change, lean into it, the easier it is to endure. And the more fun it can be.”
“Wise words.”
“Another perk of surviving those seasons.” He took another bite of his cereal. “How’s it going with Luke?”
The question was thick with meaning. I hadn’t told Dad about Luke and me yet, and with a deep breath, I decided now was as good a time as any. “Good, Daddy. Real good.” I took a seat next to him. “I’m afraid I was wrong about him after all.”
The corner of his lips flicked up in a half-smile. “You don’t say?”
“I know,” I said on a laugh. “He’s been … well, he’s been everything the shop needed. Everything I needed.”
“It’s about time you bit the bullet and told me. I’ve been waiting for that for weeks, ever since you came home, all googly about him tapping you to do the windows.”
“Hey, I never said we were seeing each other,” I teased.
He gave me a look. “Please, Pigeon. You think I don’t know when you’re seeing somebody?” A derisive laugh. “I’ve watched that boy puppy-dog after you for weeks, and I’ve been talking to Matilda about the promise you made to be wild.” He nodded to Mom’s monstrous ivy plant. “I’m glad you took a chance on him, Tess. And seeing you happy is the most I could have asked for. It’s all I want for you.”
I covered his hand with mine. “I’ve been happy,” I argued softly.
“There’s content, and there’s happy. They are not one in the same. And Luke? Well, he makes you happy in ways I’ve never seen. It practically shoots out of your eyeballs.”
I chuckled. “He does. He really does.” But my smile faded. “Wendy just moved back. She showed up at the shop the other day, and … I don’t know, Daddy. It was hard to witness. They have all this history that he and I don’t have.”
“Not just history, Tess. Baggage, and a moving truck full of it. I get the feeling Luke’s not interested in her in any context. Am I wrong?”
“No, you’re not wrong,” I conceded even though the worry still scratched at my heart. “But she’s unpredictable. And Luke doesn’t know why she came back. I just … what if he goes back to her? What if she tells me something I don’t want to know? Or tries to come between us? What if—”
“You can’t live your life on what-ifs. You just can’t. If I’d known I’d lose my legs, I don’t know how I would have been brave. If your mother had known what would happen to her, she would have lived her entire life in fear, trying to figure out how to fight it. She wouldn’t have lived, Tess. And neither can you, not if you devote yourself to your fear.” He paused, turning his hand under mine to thread our fingers together. “Let me give you a little fatherly advice. Have faith. In yourself and your ability to adapt, to shift if something comes your way. In Luke, to be honest and to care for your heart. Has he ever given you a reason for anything less?”
“No.”
“Then that’s that, Pigeon. I know telling you not to worry is like telling a giraffe to stop having spots, but just remind yourself to have faith. You’re already equipped to handle whatever life throws at you. Don’t waste your time planning for a disaster that might not ever come.”
I sighed, venting the pressure in my chest. “All right, Daddy.”
He smiled, squeezing my hand before letting it go. “Now, go get to your list. I know you’re already checking things off in your head.”
“You know me well,” I said, kissing his head. "Text me if you need me,” I called over my shoulder as I headed for the door, knowing full well he wouldn’t.
“You got it,” he called back.
And then I was bounding down the stairs, full as I’d ever been on faith.
LUKE
We hadn’t stopped moving for six hours.
Not as we moved from project to project, Ivy working her ass off in the back to keep up with orders while Tess and I made our way around the store. We’d hung up a few of the vertical succulent crates, built out frames for our next installation. Ate cold pizza in rounds—Tess ate as she directed me, and I ate as she fiddled with the floral wall, checking the water levels, pulling and replacing what needed freshening up.
I’d spent the last hour in storage, focused wholly on assembling a display piece made out of a dozen triangles that Tess wanted to plant with ferns and moss. When it was finished, I headed out of storage looking for her.
I found her digging determinedly through the buckets of flowers on one of the tables. Ivy watched her with concern.
Her hair was a little wild, worked loose in tendrils around her face, which was tight, brows furrowed. A huff left her, noisy and impatient as she moved to the next bucket.
“The search is over,” I teased, spreading my arms in display.
She didn’t even look up, never mind laugh. “There was an orchid in one of these buckets, and I can’t find it.”
I frowned. “An orchid?”
“Yes, and I need it.”
I stepped up to the buckets and dug alongside her. “And what’s so urgent that it hinges on this particular orchid?”
“I’m working on the bouquet that I’m going to pretend to work on when the editor comes in tomorrow, and I need that orchid!” She dove into the next bucket, too frantic to really see anything. “It’s on my list, and I can’t move to the next task until I find this orchid and put it where it belongs.”
In three steps, I was in front of her, having wedged myself between her and the table.
She glared up at me. “Luke, what are you doing?”
“Getting you out of here,” I answered, steering her toward the door.
“But I need that orchid!” she sputtered over her shoulder.
“Ivy will find it. Right, Ivy?”
“On it!” she called after us.
“See? She’s on it.”
Tess’s lips flattened defiantly, digging in her heels like she could stop me, which was adorable. Her feet skipped as I kept walking.
“Luke, if I’m going to get all this done, I need to stay on schedule. I can’t leave!”
“Yes, you can.”
“No, I can’t.”
At that, I actually did stop, turning her to face me.
“Tess, the world will not grind to a halt if you don’t find that orchid.”
“But—”
“What’d I tell you about buts?”
“No buts,” she grumbled.
“We are leaving here, right now. We are going to get ice cream and walk to the park because you need to remember that a whole world is happening outside of this shop, all day, every day. You know, we have a saying among waiters—Burgers and fries, nobody dies.”
That earned me a hint of a smile and the smallest laugh ever known to man.
“This isn’t brain surgery, Tess. It’s a flower shop. We will get it all done, and it’ll get done on time even if we have to stay all night to do it. It’s not like we won’t be here anyway,” I said with a meaningful look.
One that softened her. I felt her relax when she sighed. “Fine. Ice cream and the park, but no lallygagging, okay?”
“Okay,” I said with a smirk. “Are you going to come willingly, or do I need to throw you over my shoulder?”
Her eyes flicked to the ceiling, but she laughed. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”
We headed out of the store, and though she didn’t hesitate, I watched her gaze dart around the room, cataloging things she needed to do.
“Salted butterscotch or mint brownie?” I asked to distract her, pushing the door open.
Her roaming eyes found mine, stilling them so I could get her out of the store. “Hmm … butterscotch. It’s too hot for chocolate.”
“Is that a thing?”
Her brow rose. “Have you ever seen what happens to chocolate when it’s hot?”
“That doesn’t apply to ice cream. That’s gonna melt whether it’s hot out or not.”
“It’s heavy and thick, too thick for this kind of heat.”
“It’s ice cream, Tess. Its sole purpose is to cool you off.”
But she shrugged. “Butterscotch today, hands down. In a sugar cone. And you’re gonna get … dreamsicle. Waffle cone. With white chocolate sprinkles.”
I laughed. “Well, that’s the first time I’ve been accused of being predictable.”
“Trust me, you’re not. I just pay attention to things like that … my brain is full of all kinds of useless information like it. Regarding your ice cream preferences, you like dreamsicle when you’re overwhelmed. Cherry chunk when you’re happy—sugar cone. Fudge ripple when you’re down or stressed.”
