by Jo McNally
Connie bit the inside of her cheek, trying to cool her rising temper. “We aren’t talking about me. We’re talking about Lucy.”
Lucy threw up her hands. “Oh, hell no. I’d much rather hear about this laughing, fun-loving woman you used to be.” She grabbed the birthday arrangement and put it back in the cooler to stay fresh, then turned, wiping her hands on her shorts. “How did you turn into the world’s grumpiest florist?”
Conne scowled. It had become the great joke—how grumpy she was. It’s not like she’d wanted to be like this. It just...happened. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Connie grabbed a dust cloth and started wiping the shelves and rearranging the vases on display. It had been quiet for a Saturday. Their only wedding order had been out the door that morning. Neither of the other women spoke, waiting her out until she finally looked up in exasperation. “First, I’m not that grumpy.” Two pairs of eyebrows rose. “And even if I am grumpy, I’ve earned the right.” She pointed at Cecile first. “You forget that you still have a husband.” Then Lucy. “And you could have had one, but you ran out on him.” She ignored the hurt expression on Lucy’s face. “My husband left me for some young chickie. The two of them are off in Florida driving their little golf cart around their village full of gray-haired old people. I didn’t make the choice to be alone, sick and handling everything here by myself—it was made for me.”
Cecile’s eyes softened, but her words didn’t. “That young chickie was sixty-two at the time. Sandy’s only a few years younger than you and Dan. He didn’t leave you because you were old. He left you because he was convinced he was getting old, and he’d grown to be a vain, self-centered dolt who thought he could beat back the drums of time.” Cecile walked toward Connie. “It’s been three years. I get why you were angry, but you don’t have to stay that way forever. You don’t have to be alone, either. You don’t want to hear it, but you made that decision when you kept refusing help from everybody.” Cecile reached out and wrapped her fingers around Connie’s arm. “Lucy here made a decision to be happier. Maybe you should take a lesson from her. Haven’t you been angry at the world long enough? Aren’t you tired of it?”
She hissed in a sharp breath, ready to tell Cecile to get out of her store and stop lying to her. But the words refused to come out the way she’d planned.
“How...how dare... I...” She let that breath back out with a whoosh, and her shoulders sagged under the effort. It had become such an effort to maintain her rage, which was basically there only because she didn’t know what she’d do without it. Her eyes began to sting, making her blink. “I don’t wake up in the morning and think of all the ways I can be grumpy that day. It’s not something I work on...”
Cecile chuckled. “You’re saying you’re just a natural at it?”
Connie nodded with a wry grin. “Maybe so.” She looked up at Lucy. “She’s right. I’m no one to be giving advice, girl. Or criticism. I’m sorry.” She glanced at the clock above the window. “It’s almost closing time. Why don’t you head back to the inn for the night? I’ll lock up.”
Cecile squeezed her arm. “I’ll help.”
Lucy stared at the two of them, as if she sensed something relatively momentous had just happened.
Cecile grinned. “Lucy, I think you and Connie have a lot to teach each other. Running from your troubles may not be the best choice, but neither is wallowing in them.”
Lucy reached behind the counter for her purse. “Sounds like we have some interesting conversations ahead. I’ll admit there’s some truth in what Connie said about me being a common denominator in my own drama.” She stopped next to Connie and arched a brow at her. “But it sounds like I’m not the only one.” She waved and went out the door with her usual energetic stride, gone from sight in an instant.
“I like her,” Cecile said.
Connie pressed her lips together, then nodded.
“I like her more than I like you at the moment.”
Cecile laughed out loud.
“You love me and you know it.”
“Maybe.” She hit the light switch and turned off the Open sign in the window. “But right now I don’t like you that much. You’re a pain in my ass.”
“That’s what she said!”
And Connie couldn’t help it. She laughed at—no—with her best friend. And realized for the first time in a long while that she didn’t have it all that bad. She had a business, even if it was draining her. She had a family, even if they hovered too much. And she had friends. Annoying, bad-joke-telling friends who’d never once given up on her. Maybe it was time to start listening to them.
CHAPTER TWELVE
LUCY COULDN’T COMPREHEND what she was looking at. The first thing she’d spotted after walking back to the inn after a busy day at the shop was Nikki’s convertible on a flatbed tow truck. Her heart stopped—had something happened to the car? Was Nikki taking it back? But no—they’d just talked last week and Nikki hadn’t said anything about it. Lucy knew she’d been pushing the limits of friendship by keeping the car so long. But it was Nikki’s second car. And she fully intended to either find another vehicle or figure a way to get Buttercup to New York.
Maybe someone had hit the Mustang in the parking lot? But from this angle, there didn’t seem to be a scratch on it. She blinked a few times and looked around, noticing a small crowd gathered on the wide porch of the inn. Logan and Piper. Iris Taggart and a few of her friends from the book club Connie had talked about. They’d all stopped by the flower shop the previous week to check out Lucy...at least that how it felt when the seniors had come in en masse and insisted she come out front so they could meet her. She already knew Iris, of course. And Cecile, who was next to a tall gentleman...she was pretty sure his name was Rick. The well-dressed woman with the perfectly coiffed champagne hair. Lucy frowned... Vickie something. And there was Bridget McKinnon from the Purple Shamrock, sitting at a table with her grandmother, Maura. Maybe there was a book club meeting here today.
But Lucy was quite sure Evie Hudson wasn’t part of the book club, yet there she was, walking up the sidewalk toward the inn arm in arm with her husband, Mark. She still had the red streak in her hair from Independence Day. Evie waved at Lucy. In fact...everyone seemed to have their eyes on Lucy. She straightened and headed for the tow truck, pulling her phone out to call Nikki if needed.
That’s when she spotted Owen. He wasn’t facing her, but she could tell from the slant of his head that he was watching her from the corner of his eye. Oh, God...was he trying to force her to go back to North Carolina by taking her car? She started to bristle, but...that didn’t make sense. A unilateral move like that wasn’t Owen’s style. Besides, they’d been reasonably friendly since the Fourth of July.
But whatever was happening here had something to do with Owen. He was standing near a vintage yellow VW that reminded her of Buttercup, but was much nicer. This one had been fully restored. It was gleaming, with shiny new tires with wheels that looked like daisies—yellow in the center and white “petals” as spokes.
Wait...she’d seen those wheels. In a catalog. And she’d shown them to Owen over a year ago, laughing about how cute they’d look on Buttercup. He’d pointed out at the time—accurately—that anything so bright and new would look goofy on a rusted old car like hers. She walked toward the car. It couldn’t be Buttercup, but it looked like it was from the same year...1966. The car had been Grandma’s pride and joy.
As she got closer, she saw the maroon-and-white graduation cap tassel hanging from the rearview mirror, with a tiny brass “66” charm on it. Grandma’s tassel. Her heart warmed as memories of her free-spirited grandmother—an original flower child—washed over her. She turned toward Owen. Had he replaced Grandma’s car with a nicer version? Did he think she’d want any car other than Buttercup? She pointed at the car.
“What have you done?”
Owen chewed his lower lip before a
nswering, carefully avoiding her face and the faces of the audience they’d attracted.
“Lucy, I know how much you loved your car...” His words sounded as if he was reciting a speech. “I wanted to show you that I...uh...” His eyes narrowed in concentration, then he looked up at her. His cheeks were ruddy. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear he was blushing. “This is a gesture of love, and an acknowledgment that you have things you...love...aw shit, I’m not saying this right. It’s a gesture of how much I know you...”
She held up her hand. “You think finding a car that looks something like mine but fancier means you know me? How did you get my grandmother’s tassel? And why is Nikki’s car on that tow truck?”
Owen swallowed hard. “This is a gesture of...” His face twisted in frustration. “Oh, forget the script, I did this for you. I wanted you to know how much I care. I know I’ve made mistakes, and I thought this might...”
“You thought someone else’s car would make me feel better?”
“It’s not someone else’s car, damn it. It’s your car.”
She took a step back in surprise, turning back to the little yellow car. No rust. No dents. No bald tires. She looked inside—no torn seats kept together with duct tape.
“It...it doesn’t look like my car...” She remembered back when the car wasn’t a complete wreck, of course. In her childhood, it sat in Grandma’s garage, looking so bright and cheery. That’s when she’d first fallen in love with it. Lucy had declared right then that Buttercup would be her car someday, and Grandma agreed.
Owen’s voice was soft. “You may have loved the car the way it was, but it wasn’t safe. Now it is.” He opened the driver’s door. “Think of it this way—now it looks like the same car your grandmother fell in love with back in the sixties.”
Lucy stared at him, her vision suddenly blurred with tears. Her first thought was that he’d taken something away from her, but that wasn’t true. His words made her think of an old Polaroid photo tacked to Grandma’s sewing room bulletin board. It was of Grandma standing proudly in front of the shiny new Beetle. She was wearing bell-bottom jeans and a halter top, her hair in long braids and a beaded leather band wrapped around her head. Grandma would have loved to see the car look like that again. But it must have cost a fortune...
“Okay, it looks new.” She fixed him with a hard stare. “But you basically stole my car and did all of this without even asking me. And paid for it. What were you thinking?”
“I didn’t ask you because it’s supposed to be a surprise.”
“Mission accomplished. I’m surprised. But Owen...we’re not together...we agreed to be friends...”
“You suggested we be just friends. I love you. I want us back, Luce.”
“And you think a car will do that? How did you even accomplish this?”
“It’s meant to be a...a gesture. A big one. You love your car...” He rubbed the back of his neck. “To be honest, I was going to do this as a wedding gift and surprise you with it when we got back from the Bahamas. I have a friend with a body shop so the cost wasn’t as high as it could have been...”
She wanted to be angry, but she couldn’t hide the incredulous laughter that was trying to bubble up. She looked up at the Mustang and her laughter faded. “Does Nikki know you’re doing this? What are you doing with her car?”
“Nikki knows and she eventually approved.” He winked, which made her heart do something funny. “I think it helped that I’m paying for her car to be returned without putting any more miles on it.”
“She didn’t say anything to me.”
“Um...surprise, remember?”
Lucy’s eyes narrowed. “A surprise from the fiancé she helped me dump at the altar. You must be quite the charmer, Owen Cooper.”
He gestured toward their audience on the porch—pointing to the Taggart family specifically. “Logan helped convince her my intentions were honorable. The reason her car is still here is because she insisted you have the choice to turn me down. If you don’t want the VW...”
“It’s my car!” She couldn’t help laughing again. The man was just unbelievable. “What are you going to do if I don’t accept it? Peel the paint off, bang it up with a hammer and put the old tires back on?”
A grin twisted his mouth in the most attractive way. So attractive that she was tempted to kiss it. “I made sure those old tires got tossed. But if you prefer it dinged up, I guess I could manage that.” He looked over at Logan again, who had five-year-old Lily on his shoulders. “Think Lily might help me hammer some dents in this car?”
Lily clapped her hands enthusiastically. “Yes! I’ll help! Let me down, Dad...” Logan obliged, and the little girl dashed down the stairs. Lucy instinctively stepped in front of the Beetle and spread her hands.
“No!” Everyone laughed now, and her cheeks heated. “No one is putting a mark on this car.”
Owen’s eyes brightened with relief. “So you do like it?”
“Oh, please.” She waved him off, looking at the car, still trying to wrap her head around what was happening. “What’s not to like? But Owen—” she stepped closer to him “—there can’t be any strings attached...”
“There aren’t.”
“I mean it. I don’t want you getting your hopes up about sweeping me and my adorable car back to Greensboro. I’m not in a place where I can make that decision. I may never be...”
He took her hands in his. “Hope is all I have. But I swear to you there are no strings attached to the car. I just want you to be safe. And happy.” He shocked her by cupping her cheek with his hand. “I was stupid not to see how unhappy you were before, but I promise I’ll be paying better attention from now on. Because I never want to be the cause of your unhappiness again.”
His warm brown eyes were focused tight on hers. His face was just inches away. She could almost feel his breath on her skin. It reminded her of their first kiss. That was in a parking lot, too. The parking lot of Bluebeard’s Beachfront Bar and Grill. Owen had ditched his noisy friends and taken her for a moonlight walk on the beach. But instead of kissing her where the soft waves brushed onto the sand, he’d waited until they were in the parking lot, standing next to his Bronco. And then...finally...he’d pulled her close and kissed her. And damn if she didn’t want him to do it again. Right now. Right here. Where it was the two of them in this little bubble...
“Kiss the woman already!” someone hollered from the porch. It must have been that Rick guy from the book club, because Cecile whacked him in the stomach with her purse, making him double over. The moment was broken, and Owen dropped his hand to his side. But that twisty, playful, sexy grin returned.
“You were thinking about Bluebeard’s just now, weren’t you?”
She chewed on her lip. She gave a quick nod, then turned toward the car. Away from the tractor-beam pull of his eyes. Away from the heat she’d seen there.
“Thank you for doing this.” She peered inside the car. It smelled brand-new. “It was very...clever. And generous. Not everyone gets a wedding gift after ditching the wedding.”
“Not a wedding gift. A friendship gift.”
She looked up at him over her shoulder.
“That makes you a pretty good friend.”
* * *
THANK YOU, DR. FIND-LOVE.
There was something about Lucy’s voice when she said good friend that gave Owen all the hope she’d warned him against. A gravity...a heaviness that wasn’t somber. It was more like the weight of some deep emotion. An emotion that might mean she was moving him out of the friend zone and into something...better.
It was touch-and-go for a few minutes there, but in the end, she liked the car. She was sitting in Buttercup now, showing it off to Piper and Evie, who stood at the open door. Lily had crawled into the tiny back seat. They didn’t even look up as the truck pulled out with Nikki’s car and headed s
outh. The driver had family in Pennsylvania, and was headed there for a day or two before delivering the car to Nikki.
Logan Taggart stepped up next to Owen.
“I just texted my sister a shot of that.” He nodded at the women crowded around the little car. “She wanted to know two things. Is she in trouble with Lucy, and are you still in one piece?”
Owen grinned. “Tell her I think we’re both safe. Lucy and I are officially at the good friend stage now, which is a solid step up from last week.” It felt like he’d turned a corner with her.
“So what’s next on your Magic 8-Ball app?”
He grimaced. “Keep it down, man. No one’s supposed to know about that, remember?” He glanced back at the porch, but everyone seemed too busy talking among themselves to have overheard. “If she thinks I’m playing some kind of game with her, I’m screwed. She barely trusts me as it is.”
Logan held his hands up in innocence. “She won’t hear it from me. I want to see how this app of yours is going to play out, so I won’t interfere. And hey—it’s working so far. Didn’t you say this counted as two steps?”
He nodded. “That’s what I’m telling myself. This is what they call a supersized grand gesture—something really big and over-the-top to show how much you care. And it’s also Know what she loves. I’m supposed to show her that I know the things that matter to her, and her grandmother’s car is one of her favorite things in the world. It could probably count for Be her hero, too, since I made it safe to drive.”
The book club members were coming down off the porch now to check out Lucy’s car, and the two men stepped onto the grass to let them by. Owen was catching lots of side-eye from the ladies. Especially Logan’s grandmother. Iris was a tough old broad, and her steely glare had him on the defense all of a sudden. He gestured toward Lucy and the car.
“Why are you giving me that look? She’s happy!”
He’d never realized people could actually harrumph in real life until Iris did it. She narrowed her eyes at him.