Love in Bloom

Lily had considered it answered prayer when she had been chosen as one of the grant recipients, but she hadn’t told her family of her plans until the last moment. They had not taken it well. She couldn’t blame them.

It was one thing to find a nail in one’s soup; it was another when that nail swam to the top of the bowl and climbed out. Lily was now the only florist in a family of lawyers. Oh, she had the degree and the law license, but she was not, strictly speaking, a lawyer, at least not anymore. Now she was a florist, which meant that it was do-or-die for her here in Kansas.

Everything depended on making this work. Lily had staked everything on this scheme. Should she fail in Bygones, she would be buried in debt, and returning to her former occupation would be her only alternative, even if she wasn’t very good at it. Worse, it would mean returning home to the bosom of her family, and that she did not want under any circumstances but especially not in defeat. If she was to be the maiden aunt to her sister’s children, she would be so at a distance with a successful business to occupy her time and mind. She would not hang around Boston, pretending she wasn’t miserable and envious, while her sister and new brother-in-law started their family, something they were eager to do.

No, it was bad enough that her sister had married the man whom Lily had wanted for herself. Lily didn’t have to stick around and watch them have babies, not when she so wanted babies, too. If she couldn’t have a family of her own, Lily would do whatever it took to build a successful business in Bygones. That included, she reminded herself as Tate Bronson and his adorable daughter moved toward her once more, those things that went against her nature, such as speaking up. So, as he bent to take up another of her boxes, she found her voice.

“Uh, if you...if you could be careful.”

He gave her such a look, as if she were an inanimate object suddenly come to life, but he took great care stacking the boxes and hoisting them onto his shoulders. He then turned and walked away without a word. Isabella took up her backpack, chattering.

“I’ll have to sit in the corner, but it’s okay. I don’t mind. Daddy shoulda left the bags of feed at home. He didn’t figure you’d have so much stuff.”

“I see,” Lily muttered. She quickly took the backpack from Isabella and shouldered it once more, then pulled up the handle on one of the medium bags. “Think you can handle that?”

“Uh-huh.”

Using both hands, Isabella began pulling the bag toward the door. Lily stacked the remaining two boxes atop the remaining suitcase and, also using both hands, began backing toward the door. They made the sidewalk before Tate returned to scoop up boxes and bags.

“Come on.”

Lily tried to explain herself as they crossed the street and trailed across the parking lot. “I, um, looked into standard shipping, but it was cheaper to check some things as luggage and send the rest as air freight, and this way I have it all on hand when I arrive. I—I’m sorry I didn’t think to warn anyone that I would have extra luggage.”

He shrugged. “Part of my responsibilities.”

“Do you mind if I ask what your responsibilities are, I mean, so far as I’m concerned?”

“Get you there. Make sure you get set up in time for the Grand Opening.”

“Very good. I appreciate that.”

He seemed to thaw a bit then. “I’m your official contact with the committee and your host, at least through the Grand Opening reception.”

“Oh. All right. That’s nice. Thank you.”

“No problem. When you’re ready to hire help, I’ll have a list of names for you, too.”

“Ah. That will be useful.”

“When do you think you’ll be ready to hire someone, by the way?”

“Um, soon after the Grand Opening, I should think.”

“I see.”

“That is, if it’s successful.”

“The town’s done its part,” he told her.

“That’s good to know. What can you tell me about the town? I mean, beyond the statistics.”

He seemed to consider for a moment before saying, “Nothing much to tell.” Lily’s spirits sagged. She was tired and uncertain and hoping for a warm welcome, not this terse, tepid greeting. “You’ll see soon enough,” he added, stopping next to a dirty white double-cab pickup truck. He placed one of the boxes in the bed of the truck. Lily took a deep breath.

“Um, do you...do you think we could put those boxes inside?”

He turned a surprised look on her. “You want those particular boxes inside, not the suitcases?”

“What’s in the boxes is more valuable,” she said, pushing up her glasses.

He lifted his eyebrows. “Okay. If that’s the way you want it.”

“Yes, thank you,” she replied softly.

He reached into his pocket and an electronic beep sounded. He opened the back door of the cab and wrestled the big suitcase to the ground then transferred boxes to the inside. It took some shifting around, but they finally got everything loaded. As soon as they were all belted into their seats, Tate behind the wheel, Lily on the front passenger side and Isabella in a booster seat behind Lily in the back, Isabella spoke up.

“Daddy got on the SOS ’cause we’re Bronsons.”

“SOS?”

“It’s short for Save Our Streets,” he explained, starting the engine. “That’s the name of the committee that chose the businesses that got the grants.”

“Yes, I remember reading that in the paperwork, but what does being Bronsons have to do with it?”

“Bronsons founded the town,” he answered brusquely.

“They were brothers,” Isabella volunteered, “and one of ’em runned off with the other one’s sweetheart, so they hated each other.”

“Oh, dear,” Lily murmured.

“They got over it,” Tate stated matter-of-factly, and that was that.

Lily sighed mentally. She’d imagined a sweet little town, pulling together to do something grand, not feuding founders and “nothing much to tell.”

Suddenly Isabella piped up from the backseat again. “Are you married?”

“What? Uh. No.”

“Daddy’s not married, either.”

So, no fashion model wife then. That explained the falling-down hem on Isabella’s T-shirt. No conscientious mother would let such a pretty little girl go out with the hem coming down on her T-shirt, or so Lily imagined. A single father, now, he probably wouldn’t even notice such a thing. While Lily wondered about Isabella’s mother, Isabella wondered about other things, and she wasn’t the least bit shy in letting Lily know.

“Have you got a boyfriend?”

“Isabella!” Tate barked.

Lily cringed. “No, I don’t have a boyfriend, either.”

“How come?”

“Well, I—I just...” Lily felt her face heat.

“Don’t you want to get married and have children?”

My, what a direct child. “Y-yes. Very much.”

“Do you like babies? I like babies.”

“I love babies.”

“My friend Bonnie has a baby sister. I want a baby sister.”

Lily shot a glance at Tate Bronson, who was not married. Perhaps he and Isabella’s mother were divorced, and his ex-wife had remarried, and Isabella was hoping for a baby sister from that quarter. If so, that might explain the granitelike tightness of Tate’s profile just then.

“Isabella, that’s enough!” Tate ordered. “You pipe down now.”

“Okay, Daddy.”

“I mean it. Not another word.”

“Yes, sir.”

Lily sank down in her seat, feeling the undercurrents swirl around her. She didn’t know Tate Bronson’s story, but she knew her own.

Didn’t she want to get married and have children? Oh, yes. Very much. But that wasn’t likely when she didn’t even have a boyfriend, when she hadn’t ever had a boyfriend. And why was that? Wasn’t it obvious? Painfully obvious, she imagined, at least to Tate. Maybe not to his precocious daughter.

She just wasn’t the sort men noticed or in which they developed interest. She’d had ample proof of that already. She didn’t need any more, not from Tate Bronson or anyone else.

Lily turned her unseeing gaze out the quickly darkening window and prayed that she hadn’t made a horrible mistake in coming to Kansas.

Chapter Two

Her first sight of Bygones was not encouraging. Once they had gotten beyond the confines of the city, the landscape had seemed pleasantly green with rolling hills and lots of trees. About an hour out, however, that had gradually given way to flat golden plains and mere lines of trees following creeks and streams. By the time they reached the outskirts of Bygones, everything seemed dusty and barren in the moonlight. Lily pointed at a tall, ghostly shape rising sharply out of the dark.

“What is that?”

“Grain elevator,” came the terse reply.

They passed a scattering of low buildings next to the tall ones, and a little farther down the road they came to a block of small clapboard houses surrounded by too many vehicles and too little fencing. A few trees spread stunted branches and dark shadows. A dog ran to the edge of the road and barked madly as they passed. Tate paid it no mind, the truck speeding on. It slowed a few moments later as more substantial homes and buildings came into view. They passed the back of a small post office and a drive-through drop-off box. A few seconds later the truck turned right onto Main Street.

Lily caught her breath. This was more like it. Old-fashioned wrought-iron lampposts, topped now with pairs of American flags; illuminated matching benches placed strategically along the wide sidewalk. Ornamental evergreens in enormous terra-cotta pots complemented the brick pavement of the wide street and sprouted tiny flags amongst their needles. The buildings on both sides of the street had been painted a creamy yellow-tan and fronted with colorful awnings, now draped with patriotic bunting. The woodwork around the recessed doors and the large display windows had been painted to complement the awning colors. The buildings were old, perhaps from the 1930s, but looked to be in excellent condition.

On the south side of the street, every shop window bore a banner that read, “Welcome!”

Below that another sign read, “Happy Independence Day!”

Lily’s gaze sought out the spring-green awning with the heart-shaped scarlet lily gracefully arcing across it. The words below it in flowing script read, “Love in Bloom.” A scarlet heart dotted the i. Lily laughed in delight. It looked exactly as she had designed it, exactly as she had submitted it.

Tate glanced at her, asking, “So far so good?”

“It’s exactly what I hoped it would look like.”

He nodded. “Everyone says the contractors and consultants have done excellent work.”

Tate traveled on past the shop to the four-way stop at the intersection of Main and Bronson. Since hers was the second shop from the corner, it wasn’t far. He didn’t bother to actually stop, simply slowed and hooked a U-turn in the wide intersection.

“Is that legal?”

He shrugged. “It’s late. No other traffic. I wouldn’t try it in the daytime, though.”

“Since I don’t have a vehicle, I don’t expect it’ll be a problem.”

Shaking his head, he said, “I can’t help wondering how you figure on getting around out here without your own transportation.”

“Oh, I’m going to live in the apartment above the shop.”

“Yeah, I know, but—”

“I’m told there’s a grocery up the street.”

“Sure. It’ll do if you’re not too picky.”

“And there’s a doctor a couple blocks over.”

“Tuesdays and Thursdays only.”

He pulled the truck over to the curb in front of the shop and killed the engine but made no move to get out.

“What about restaurants?” Lily asked.

“Uh, well, there’s the grill at The Everything for lunch and dinner. That’s like half a block behind you, but the menu’s pretty limited.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m not quite sure what you can get at the Cozy Cup Café after it opens, not much more than some fancy coffee and snacks, if I remember the prospectus correctly.” He glanced at the shop on the corner next door, adding, “The bakery will open soon, too. That ought to get you breakfast and some yummy desserts. That’s about it, though.”

“Okay. Well, I probably ought to be eating in more often anyway.”

“That’s what we do.”

She thought for a moment of all the lovely dinners out that she’d enjoyed in Boston, of the oyster bars and bistros, the pizzerias and one-of-a-kind “fusion” restaurants, the Back Bay seafood and Beacon Hill steaks. She thought of friends and family left behind, and her spirits wavered, but then she thought of new friends to be made and a business of her own, a new life in a new place. Her chin rose in determination.

A sound came from the backseat of the truck, the kind a sleeping child makes when perfectly at ease and content. Little Isabella Bronson of the flaming red hair and bright blue eyes slept peacefully behind them in her father’s pickup truck, apparently as content as if she were at home in her own bed. Smiling, Lily looked up at that awning and the front of the shop. Her gaze rose to the darkened windows above the awning. Her apartment. Her own shop and home. It was a far cry from Boston, but it was hers, her chance to do something real, something besides practice law and be miserable. This was her chance to break the mold, to prove herself, to be someone she liked and admired, not just a failed Farnsworth clone, yearning for what could not be.

Dorothy, she thought flippantly, we are in Kansas!

And maybe this wasn’t a mistake. Maybe, for once, she’d done the right thing.

Oh, Lord, she silently prayed for the thousandth time since she’d read that article and filled out the application, please help me do the right things. For once in my life, please help me get it right.

* * *

Glancing into the backseat, Tate saw that Isabella still slept soundly. She’d dropped off soon after they’d left the environs of Kansas City, which was no surprise considering that the hour had been well past her normal bedtime. He should have left her with his parents instead of dragging her along on this trip, but that would have meant allowing her to sleep over, and he hated when she did that. Even after all these years he couldn’t get used to sleeping out at his place alone. When he’d first brought her home from the hospital, a new father and a widower, he’d wondered if he’d ever sleep again. But they’d found their way together, and now he couldn’t seem to manage without her even for a single night. His mother said that he sometimes held on to Isabella too tightly, but he didn’t know how else to hold her.

Lily Farnsworth got out of the truck and all but skipped across the sidewalk to the door of her shop and back again, her excitement palpable. Tate took the keys from the pocket of his jeans and tossed them to her. Catching them easily, she graced him with a smile before spinning away again. He watched her fit the key into the lock and turn it. The door swung wide. Lily reached inside and flipped on the lights; then she glided over the threshold into the bare space filled only with two small glass-fronted humidifiers to display the flowers, several large flat boxes, a small unpainted waist-high counter and a steel worktable half-hidden behind a wall at the back of the room.

She poked around for a bit while Tate unloaded suitcases from the bed of the truck and hauled them onto the sidewalk. Emerging from the building a few minutes later, she pronounced the place, “Perfect.”

“Looks like it needs some work to me,” Tate teased, unable to resist her enthusiasm.

Her smile instantly dissolved. “What I mean is, it’s perfect for my purposes.”

He felt like a heel. Irritated with himself, he waved a hand at the door beside the shop, the one between her business and the bookstore next door.

“If you’ll open that door, I’ll carry these up to your apartment.”

“Oh, most of those don’t go to the apartment,” she said, pointing into the shop. “They go in here.”

Tate reached up to push back the brim of his hat, realized he’d left it in the truck and parked his hands at his waist. “What about the boxes?”

“Most of those go into the shop, too.”

“Didn’t you bring anything to set up housekeeping?”

“A few things. It’s mostly shop supplies, though. You know, vases, foam, tubes, frogs, wires, tape, cones, hooks, hangers, ribbon, pins, charms, feathers, silk flowers...”

“Frogs?”

“Uh, to hold pins. They’re not real frogs.” She seemed embarrassed. “They don’t even look like real frogs.” She shrugged and bowed her head. “That’s just what we call them.”

Tate swallowed a chuckle and shifted his weight from one booted foot to another, finding her shyness kind of cute. “I figured you’d order supplies.”

“Well, yes, I have ordered some things, but why order what I already have? Especially when I didn’t have to pay for these things. They were gifts from my former employer and coworkers at the flower shop in Boston. Going-away gifts. ‘Success gifts,’ they called them.”

The lady knew how to pinch a penny. “Okay, I get it now. So which of these suitcases goes upstairs?”

“Just the big one.”

“All right. Let’s get these others inside, then I’ll take that one upstairs.”

They rolled the other suitcases into the shop. Lily positioned them behind the work area wall while Tate went out to remove the boxes from the backseat of the truck. Isabella woke as he worked, rubbed her eyes with both fists and pronounced herself in need of a potty.

“Go inside there,” Tate instructed. “There’s a bathroom in back.” He heard her asking Lily, and the two of them went off to find “the ladies’ room,” as Lily called it. Tate knew that it was a modest little necessary tucked into a corner.

“That’s going to need some attention,” Lily muttered upon their return.

By that he assumed she meant decoration, which was her department. He nodded to the boxes. “Any of these go upstairs?”

She pointed out only two of the smaller ones.

“All right. Then if you’ll each tote one, I’ll take the big suitcase, and we’ll go up.”

Nodding, Lily took the larger of the two boxes and stood by the door while Isabella easily carried her box and her father followed. Lily glanced around once more, shut off the lights and stepped outside to close the door and lock up before moving to the door that led to the apartment upstairs. Lily began searching for the appropriate key.

“Uh, I’m pretty sure that door’s not locked,” Tate told her.

She pushed her glasses up on her nose and looked at him as if he’d suddenly grown a second head. “What do you mean?”

“Well, the workmen were coming and going, and no one could say exactly when the bed you ordered would be delivered. It was just easier to leave it open.”

Her jaw dropped. “Even after the bed came?”

“Sure. I didn’t see the point in...” She found the light switch and flipped it on, illuminating the narrow, enclosed staircase. “Why lock the door on an empty apartment?” he asked as she slipped inside and started climbing the stairs. Tate stepped up and blocked the door open with his shoulder, calling after her, “No one locks their doors around here, not to their houses.” She ignored him and kept climbing.

Tate indicated with a nod that Isabella should go next. Shrugging, she started up after Lily, who quickly reached the small landing at the top and let herself into the apartment. A light came on in the small foyer. Isabella followed. Tate came last into the dark but spacious living and dining area.

“What is this place?” Isabella asked.

“This is my home,” Lily told her, coming out of the dark hallway behind her. Lily quickly moved into the small kitchen and switched on a light there. “Not many overhead lights in here. I’ll need to buy some lamps.”

“You’re going to live in town?” Isabella asked doubtfully.

“Right above my shop,” Lily confirmed, “in the very heart of Main Street.”

“We live in the country. Right, Dad?”

“Yep.”

“On the ranch. Right, Dad?”

“Right.”

“Grandpa, though, he calls it the farm. Don’t he, Daddy?”

“That’s because he’s in charge of the farming end of things.”

“And Daddy, he does the horses and the cows and all the animal stuff. And he helps with the farm, too, and sometimes the tractor stuff. And he and Grandpa do the oil lease stuff together.”

“You talk too much,” he told her, nudging her with the suitcase. He looked to Lily and asked, “So where do you want these?”

She took the box from Isabella, saying, “I’ll put this in the bathroom. You can just leave that there, though.”

Tate nodded. “If you didn’t notice, there’s a coat closet here.”

“That’s convenient.”

“And there’s a walk-in closet in the front bedroom. I had them set up the bed in there. The back room is really small, but you could put a twin bed in there for company.”

She looked around the empty living area and said, “I think I’ll concentrate on a couch first.”

Tate chuckled. “Yeah, or a chair at least.”

She smiled and nodded. “I understood there was a washer and dryer.”

“That closet in the kitchen,” he said. “It’s one of those stacked jobs with the dryer on top.”

“That’s fine.”

“Okay, well...”

Isabella pointed at the trio of bare windows overlooking the vacant, softly lit street. Tilting her curly head, she asked, “Who’s that?”

Tate and Lily both moved toward the window, staring at the wildly waving figure in the window of the building across the street.

“Oh, that,” Tate said with a grin. “That’s Miss Ann Mars. You know her.”

“Sure. Ever’body knows Miss Mars. She’s had her shop in Bygones forever.”

“I guess you didn’t know that she lives downtown above her shop, too.”

“This ’N’ That,” Lily read the sign on the awning across the street. “What sort of shop is it?”

“Um, sundries,” Tate answered. “You know, needles and pins, candles, handkerchiefs, coin purses, hand mirrors, little stuff. That’s in the front. Out back, now that’s—how do I put this?—mostly junk, I guess.”

Lily raised her eyebrows. Her glasses slid down her nose, so she pushed them back up. Tate fought the urge to smile for some reason. Clearing his throat, he turned away from the window at the same time Miss Mars did.

“Miss Ann is on the committee,” he told Lily, pulling a card from his shirt pocket. “If you need something and you can’t reach me, you can always tell Miss Mars.” He pressed the card into Lily’s hand and started for the door.

“I’ll walk you down,” Lily said. “I want to take another look at the shop.”

Shrugging, he turned a sleepy-eyed Isabella toward the stairs. He ushered his daughter out onto the landing then slipped past her and down a few steps before turning and gathering her into his arms. She laid her precious red head on his shoulders. Laying his cheek against those bright curls, he thought of his late wife, Eve, and the old familiar ache of loss filled him. If their daughter could have known Eve for even a little while, she’d give up her matchmaking ways, but the imp had never known her mother.

After carrying his daughter down the stairs, he nodded at Ann Mars, who scampered across the street in her bedroom slippers and housedress, the coil of her long white hair sliding to and fro atop her head. The tiny, bent old woman had to be eighty if she was a day, and as far as Tate knew, she had never married. If she had family, he was unaware of them. Stepping up onto the curb, she crossed the sidewalk to greet Lily.

Tate made the introduction. “Miss Mars, Lily Farnsworth. Lily, Miss Ann Mars, SOS Committee member and your neighbor.”

“So happy to meet you!” Miss Mars exclaimed, bending far backward to get a good look at the newcomer. “You’re aptly named for a florist.”

Lily smiled and pushed her glasses up. “I guess I am, at that.”

Miss Mars stuck her nose to the window of Lily’s shop, asking, “What are in those big boxes in there?”

“Glass shelving.”

“You’ll have to put it together, I expect,” Tate stated, and Lily nodded. “You have the tools for it and everything?”