In the Market for Love
Megan Squires
Copyright © 2019 by Megan Squires
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
For Jacob and Abby.
Contents
1. Sophie
2. Cole
3. Sophie
4. Cole
5. Sophie
6. Cole
7. Sophie
8. Cole
9. Sophie
10. Cole
11. Sophie
12. Cole
13. Sophie
14. Cole
15. Sophie
16. Cole
17. Sophie
18. Cole
19. Sophie
20. Cole
21. Sophie
22. One Year Later
The End
About the Author
1
Sophie
THE CELLOPHANE WRAPPER crinkled in the man’s grip as his hands trembled with nerves.
“She’s going to love them,” Sophie Potters said, nudging her elbow over the armrest that separated their airplane seats. She could see an envelope slipped between the sprigs of greenery and peach dahlias, the name Lauren penned in perfect cursive across the paper. “They’re beautiful.”
“They are pretty, aren’t they?” The man’s voice cracked and he blew out a breath. Rolling his shoulders, he admitted, “I don’t know if I’m more nervous about giving these to her and the question I plan to ask along with them, or about this plane landing! I don’t have a lot of confidence in our pilot after all of those unexpected bumps.”
“It has been a bit of a choppy flight, hasn’t it?” Luckily, Sophie wasn’t phased by the turbulence. “If you’re asking the question I think you’re going to ask, then you’ve picked just the right bouquet. Victorians often used dahlias to symbolize commitment and dedication. The perfect proposal flower, if you ask me.”
The young man’s eyes widened. “You know a little about flowers, huh?”
“A bit.”
Sophie grinned and as the plane began its gradual descent, she filled the time with stories of her flower farm and the business she’d started just five years earlier. Sophie knew not everyone had the ability to purchase locally grown flowers straight from the source. Even less had the opportunity to grow them—to have their very own flower field of dreams. Looking down at her hands, at her tattered cuticles that boasted dirt-lined nail beds and her fingers roughened from garden work, she realized she possessed something truly special. She couldn’t wait to dig her hands back into the rich soil on the precious two acres of her leased Fairvale land.
“Whoa there, big fella!” The pilot’s voice crackled through the speakers as the wheels touched down on the landing strip. A raucous and relieved cheer erupted from the passengers. “Welcome to Sacramento, where today’s weather is an enjoyable seventy-six degrees with five mile-an-hour winds out of the southeast.”
Standing to collect her bag from the overhead compartment, Sophie slung it over her shoulder and smiled down at the man still in his seat. Even though the plane was now on solid ground, worry shrouded his face.
“Good luck with everything. Take a deep breath and just go for it,” she offered, hoping to quell his obvious nerves. “And if you happen to need a florist for the big day, you know who to call.”
“I appreciate the encouragement. And thank you for distracting me during that landing. One hurdle down, one more to go!”
Sophie smiled the whole way through the airport, even though she was like a fish swimming upstream. Sacramento, while California’s state capitol, never felt like a big, bustling city to Sophie. After all, it was considered by many the farm-to-fork capital of America, and that held an inherent small-town feel in the title alone. But the sheer volume of people in the airport that morning went strictly against that notion. It felt crowded and stifling, like the throngs of bodies squished into a rush hour metropolitan subway.
Grateful she’d only brought a carry-on and didn’t need to await the arrival of any checked luggage, Sophie pressed through the melee of people and burst through the automatic airport doors. The balmy, late spring air met her skin like her very own welcome-home embrace.
Of course she had enjoyed her time in Seattle visiting her youngest brother, his wife, and their new baby. But the skies had been consistently gloomy, a dense layer of gray clinging just above the cityscape like a woolen blanket draped over her entire stay.
The Sacramento Valley, on the other hand, was predictable in its mild springtime weather, and something about that certainty was a comfort to Sophie. It made planning her planting schedule a breeze. She’d tilled and amended her soil months earlier and the seeds she placed into the ground shortly after were likely making their debuts as little sprouts at that very moment. She couldn’t wait to drive out to the flower farm to take inventory.
Earlier, before takeoff, Sophie had arranged a ride through an app on her phone. It thrilled her to see the sleek, black sedan already waiting along the curb when she exited the airport, as she was eager to get back home and settle into her routine. The driver must’ve spotted her from afar because he popped open the trunk while remaining inside the cab. She took that as her cue that she wouldn’t be receiving any help with her luggage. That was just fine; she’d be able to manage on her own. Sophie yanked her travel bag from her shoulder to stow it away next to a pair of tangled jumper cables and a tire jack. When she slammed the trunk door back into place, she startled, noticing a man lowering into the passenger seat of the same vehicle.
She marched around the car with clipped strides.
“Excuse me. I believe this is my ride,” Sophie asserted as she rapped on the rolled up window with her knuckle. She was met with the back of the driver’s head, his dark hair swirling into a cowlick like the coil of a cinnamon roll. “Excuse me!” she hollered once more, but the man was engaged in conversation with his passenger and without even acknowledging her presence on the outside of the vehicle, the car lurched forward and pulled away from the curb.
“Wait! Stop!” Calling out, Sophie chased after the runaway car, but it quickly disappeared into the fold of vehicles in airport traffic. She threw her hands into the air like she was tossing confetti, though her gesture was anything but celebratory. “Are you kidding me?”
“Sophie Potters?” A vehicle of a similar make and model two cars back honked its horn, quick beats in a row like an alert from a trumpet blast. The driver leaned out the window and flapped his hand in her direction in an effort to summon her attention. “Are you Miss Potters?” he hollered, louder this time. “I think I’m your driver.”
“Oh, this is just peachy,” Sophie muttered, realizing her blunder and the fact that her belongings were en route to an alternate destination and certainly not to her home. “Yes,” she said, shoulders slumped with the admission of defeat. “That would be me.”
The man stepped out of the vehicle to collect her luggage, but halted when he noticed her empty hands. “Wow. You’re a light traveler.”
“I’m a tired traveler, which in this case, has suddenly made me a light traveler.” Sophie slid into the passenger seat and clicked the belt across her lap. She blew out an exasperated breath that lifted her side-swept bangs from her forehead. “My bag just hitched a ride in another vehicle.”
“Huh, that’s weird,” was all the young man offered as he got back into the car. When he reached over to turn the dial on the radio to increase the volume, Sophie took it as her cue to
keep quiet. He wasn’t up for forced pleasantries and she was absolutely okay with that. Not that she wasn’t a people person, but she appreciated silence just as much as she did a riveting conversation.
That’s what she loved about her sweet little patch of farmland. It was an oasis of solitude. She could be alone with her thoughts there and if she wanted to, she would talk to her plants, though she realized there was a bit of crazy associated with that sort of thing. Either way, it was the best—and cheapest—therapy available. Something about connecting with nature was immensely grounding to Sophie. She knew it was a gift to watch these little seeds push up through the earth, breaking the surface with an inspiring determination to turn into something beautiful. That her plants took on a whole new life once they were cut and left her field was just the icing on the cake. She never really knew if their purpose was to bring her joy in the growing or to bring her customers joy in the receiving. It felt like a fifty-fifty sort of thing, and that, to Sophie, was just perfect.
The white-noise music inside the cab and the soft, rhythmically lulling motion of the vehicle must have ushered her into sleep, because before she knew it, the thirty-minute drive to Sophie’s small townhome came to an abrupt end. Her driver shut off the engine after he pulled up alongside the curb, the click of unlocking doors startling Sophie awake.
“Alright. We’re here.” He broke the silence by clearing his throat. “Have a nice day, ma’am.” The driver picked up his phone and scrolled, likely looking for the whereabouts of his next client, readying to move on to another job.
“Oh. Yes. Thank you. You have a nice day, too,” Sophie replied groggily, her voice thick and unused. It always took her a moment to fully awaken, even after a short catnap. Clicking open the car door and stepping out onto the sidewalk, she caught herself before walking to the back of the vehicle to collect her luggage, remembering she wouldn’t find it stowed in that particular car. For all she knew, it was on its way to Timbuktu by now.
She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t disappointed that her belongings were likely gone forever. There were only a few outfits—all which could be easily replaced—but her planting journal with five years’ worth of notes was in that bag, and although she knew every year was different and required its own provision, that journal was one of her most cherished possessions. It was like a time machine, transporting her back to each growing season through pictures and words documenting her garden’s growth in meticulous detail. Heartbroken wasn’t the right word, but she was certainly disappointed she’d never hold the leather notebook in her hands again.
“Sophie! You’re back!”
Sophie glanced up to see her roommate, Caroline, bounding down the walkway and rushing toward her at full speed. Sophie planted her feet solidly on the pavement, bracing for the impact. Even though Caroline was as petite as could be, her hugs were larger than life. They weren’t just gestures of endearment; they were full-on football tackles.
“I’ve missed you so much!” Caroline squealed as she yanked Sophie into her arms, their cheeks smashing together. She rocked Sophie back and forth with pendulum-like momentum, dancing her across the pavement.
“I’ve missed you, too, Care. It’s so good to be home.”
Grabbing her by the hand, Caroline tugged Sophie up the walkway to the porch. She paused as she took hold of the handle to the front door with her free hand. “Take a deep breath, Soph, and tell me what you smell.”
Sophie did as instructed, her chest expanding with a massive inhale. The savory aroma of bacon and hash browns infiltrated her senses, a delicious greeting that caused her stomach to growl with anticipation, like Pavlov’s dog and his dinner bell.
“Smells like my favorite breakfast!”
“And fresh fruit, too! I visited the Nicholson’s yesterday and their stone fruit looks amazing this season. All that rain from last winter has done wonders for their peaches. The sweetest you’ll ever taste. The market is going to be off the charts this year, Soph, I can feel it in my bones.”
That was music to Sophie’s ears. She’d taken over the Fairvale Farmers’ Market last year and while it was initially more work than she’d bargained for while still running a flower farm of her own, there was something so satisfying about bringing farmers together to feed their community. It felt like a back-to-the-basics sort of thing, and how much did people need—even crave—that these days? This year’s market was set to open the following Tuesday, and while it would be a couple of weeks before her flowers would be ready for sale, Sophie eagerly awaited the grand kickoff.
“You didn’t need to go to all this trouble to make me breakfast, Caroline. They fed me on the plane.”
“Well, it’s technically brunch. And I know I didn’t, but I was hungry and I figured you might be, too. A bag of peanuts does not a meal make.”
“I suppose you’re right. And it’s true; I’m never one to turn down food,” Sophie said as she elbowed Caroline and followed her into their home. “Especially food that smells this good!”
Caroline’s mouth curved up on the side. “I have a confession,” she said as she strode into the kitchen to collect two plates from the counter dish rack. She held one in each hand, pausing. “It’s not all completely selfless. I’ll be a married woman in just over a month and I figure it’s about time for a little practice in the cooking department.”
“My brother’s not a picky man, Caroline. You know that. You’ve tasted our mother’s cooking before. The bar isn’t all that high.”
While Sophie loved the occasional home cooked meal at her parents’, it wasn’t the quality of the food that she enjoyed, but the company that always had her coming back for seconds. Her mother would burn a pot of water if it was possible. Culinary expertise wasn’t her gift, but what she lacked in talent in the kitchen, she more than made up for in other ways.
She was the type of mother who wore handmade knit sweaters to coordinate with each holiday and saved coupons for the things she knew her children loved, like their favorite laundry detergent or brand of roasted coffee beans. Motherhood was her specialty and Sophie had a sneaking suspicion that grand-motherhood would be an even better fit. Especially since baby Aimee wasn’t eating solids yet and couldn’t judge her grandma by her less than stellar meals.
Caroline, on the other hand, didn’t need to clock any more hours in the kitchen. She was already a skilled baker, the town’s unofficial go-to cake designer for children’s birthdays and baby showers. She even took on the daunting task of baking and decorating her own wedding cake, something her bridesmaids had unsuccessfully attempted to talk her out of.
Sophie, however, was one of the few who continually encouraged Caroline to wholeheartedly go for it. After all, she would be a hypocrite to do otherwise. She knew without a doubt that should she one day marry, she would be her own florist, assembling all of the bouquets for her bridal party, no matter how unwise that decision may appear. Why on earth wouldn’t she contribute her greatest love and talent to a celebration entirely about love?
Taking a seat on the green and blue plaid cushion in the breakfast nook window, Sophie drew in another deep breath as Caroline settled a plate in front of her. The bacon was cooked to perfection: fatty ribbons curling like corkscrews and golden-crisp hash browns that made her mouth water. Sophie picked up her fork and had to keep her eyes from shutting contently the moment the food touched her lips.
“This really is so good, Caroline. I’m super happy that my brother gets to eat like this every day, but I can’t help but be disappointed that it’ll be back to granola bars and O.J. for me.”
“You know you’re welcome to come over whenever you like, Soph. You’re family. It’s what families do: make sure we all stay fat and happy.”
Sophie knew that, and she didn’t question Caroline’s sincerity at all in offering. But after spending a week with her youngest brother, Scott, and his family, she knew that welcomes inevitably wore out. She hadn’t quite worn hers out, mostly because she inserted herse
lf into any situation where they needed help. With a two-week-old infant, there were countless opportunities for that. She took the 2 a.m. feeding shift multiple nights, knowing she’d be able to catch up on her sleep once back at home. Sophie made sure she was more of a help than a hindrance, and she knew Scott was grateful for it.
But there was never a less desirable position than the third wheel to a pair of newlyweds. Though Caroline had started out as Derek’s girlfriend, she quickly became Sophie’s best friend. The two women were now nearly inseparable. Sophie knew things would change once the wedding vows were exchanged, and she was prepared for—even used to—that. At twenty-seven-years old, she was the only remaining single gal in her group of girlfriends. At a time when wedding invitations showed up in her mailbox on a weekly basis, Sophie was interning with local flower growers, learning how to farm organically and sustainably. She was more concerned about pest control methods than selecting China patterns. Sure, she’d dated—sometimes even had short relationships—but nothing ever blossomed into anything substantial. She was okay with that. Her time would one day come. She just wasn’t in that season of life yet.
Throughout breakfast, Sophie filled Caroline in on her Seattle trip. The two huddled together and swiped through the myriad of baby images on her phone, ooh-ing and ahh-ing at each adorable picture that graced the screen.
While Derek and Scott had been close growing up, the two brothers had a monumental falling out after high school when they started an internet business venture together. The result was not only an empty bank account, but a relationship that appeared to be strained beyond repair. Derek was now an anchorman for the local news station and Scott had retreated up to the Pacific Northwest to pursue his career in copy editing with a prominent Seattle lifestyle magazine. Sophie was often the glue that kept the brothers stuck together, though she had a feeling a new baby in the family could do an even better job of bringing everyone together. Babies just had a way of doing that. After all, a baby was the epitome of a fresh start.
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