When I called to tell her my world had basically imploded, she told me emphatically she’d been thinking of slowing down but didn’t have anyone she trusted to take over the reins of her flower shop. She went on about the timing being kismet and all but demanded I move to her “little slice of paradise.”
Hope Valley was a little less than an hour from Richmond, making it easily drivable, so Alex hadn’t given me grief when I told him I had a job opportunity there. I assumed it also helped ease things with his pregnant fiancée that the woman he’d thrown over and the kid they had together were no longer going to be living in the same city.
But I tried really hard not to dwell on that.
Another thing I’d worked hard not to think about was my night with a certain stranger I’d picked up in a bar. I had started to wonder if I made the whole thing up. He’d been too damn good to be true, it had to have been my imagination. But even days later, I’d move or shift in a certain way and feel a twinge that reminded me that night had been very, very real.
Those twinges were gone now, but the memories certainly weren’t, no matter how many times I told myself to stop thinking about it. I was never going to see Micah again, after all. I just prayed he hadn’t ruined me for all other men.
Ivy stared out the window in wonder as we passed through the town, pointing out everything that caught her eye, which was a lot. She was particularly taken with the clock tower in the center of the town square, and rattled on and on about it until the moment we pulled up in front of Sylvia’s house, an adorable bungalow overrun by so many shrubs and plants that her front yard looked like a jungle.
Her love for all things green had carried over from her flower shop. There was a trellis covered in wisteria at the side of the house, a line of rose bushes to the left of the porch. Azaleas, butterfly bushes, hydrangeas, elephant ears, and so much more. The backyard looked much the same. Her property was, hands down, my favorite place on earth. It was like stepping into a whole new world. I’d spent hours and hours in her yard, weeding and turning soil or curling up on one of the cozy chairs or loungers she had scattered throughout.
“Mommy,” Ivy said on a wondrous breath, “it’s like a secret garden.” I threw the car in park and glanced over my shoulder, seeing my girl’s face and hands pressed against the window. “Do we get to stay here?”
“Yeah, love bug. This is our new home. You like it?”
Ivy sucked in a huge, dramatic breath before declaring in a voice so loud it nearly burst my eardrums, “I love it so much!”
“Then let’s go check it out.”
I killed the engine and pushed the car door open just as Sylvia appeared, like a brightly colored beacon amidst all the greenery.
“Yoohoo!” she called, waving an arm in the air, making her dazzling, brightly colored caftan sway in the breeze. “There they are! Welcome home, my lovelies!” She reached the edge of her walkway just as I pulled Ivy from the car.
For a woman in her early eighties, she was so full of life it practically radiated from her pores. I’d gotten my strawberry blonde hair from her, and she was obviously keeping up with regular salon visits to keep her once-natural color intact. Making my way toward her, my vision blurred as my eyes welled. The sense of relief and familiarity that washed over me was almost overwhelming.
“It’s so good to see you.” My voice radiated with emotion as I whispered into her ear, inhaling her familiar scent. She’d been using Chantilly dusting powder for as long as I could remember. I associated that fragrance with so many happy memories, and smelling it now made me smile.
“Oh, my precious girl.” She pulled back. Her fingers, slightly gnarled with age, pressed against my cheeks as she took my face in her hands. I looked down at her, seeing the many years she’d lived—enthusiastically sucking every drop of life from them—written on the soft, papery skin of her face beneath the impeccably applied makeup she wore every single day, no matter what. She’d taught me that beautiful undergarments made a woman feel sexy, even if no one was going to see them, and that there was never an excuse for a woman to go out in public without lipstick. She was of the mindset that it made you feel good to look good. “I’m so happy you’re here.”
Stepping back, she looked to my daughter, her eyes lighting up as she threw her arms out at her sides. “Come give your Auntie Sylvia a hug, darlin’ girl.”
Ivy clung to my leg, her little arms like a vise as she looked up at me, her blue eyes wide and inquisitive. I nodded reassuringly and gave her a little squeeze. “It’s okay. You’ve met Aunt Sylvia before. You were just really little, so you don’t remember.” Leaning down, I whispered conspiratorially, “She’s my most favorite aunt in the whole wide world.”
That did it. Letting me go, she ran the distance between me and Sylvia and wrapped her arms as far around her middle as they’d go. “Hi, Auntie Siva! I’m Ivy!”
My great-aunt smiled down at her, running her fingers through my girl’s pale red curls. “I know, darlin’ girl. I actually planted some ivy near the back porch just for you the day you were born. Would you like to see it?”
Ivy gasped and shouted, “Yeah!” She latched onto one of Sylvia’s hands and looked back at me. “Come on, Mommy.”
“You two go explore. I’m gonna start unloading the car.”
Sylvia gave me a wink, knowing I needed Ivy occupied while I tried to get our stuff into the house. My girl would insist on helping, which would take twice as long. “Come on, precious. There’s a lot to explore. Better get started before we lose the sun.”
I watched as my aunt guided my daughter around the side of the house and out of sight. Then I went about unloading our lives from my four-door sedan.
* * *
I felt like I was running on empty as I made my way down the stairs to the kitchen in the back of the house. Sylvia was sitting at the small dinette table tucked into the bay window. The top was covered in a bright mosaic she’d made years ago, using broken stoneware and vases. The whole house was full of vibrant colors and crazy patterns—from the big, over-stuffed velvet couch in burnt orange, with its eclectic collection of throw pillows, to the squishy lounge chair in peacock blue, to the rugs and the paint on the walls. It looked like a rainbow had exploded, or the sixties had a massive acid trip and puked all over the place. I absolutely loved it. It was funky, just like her—and like how I used to be before I’d tamped that part of me down for Alex.
I’d spent years living in a monochromatic show house where everything from the dinnerware to the light fixtures matched. It hadn’t been me, not in the slightest. But I tried to appease myself by claiming that I’d been happy so I didn’t care that Alex had shot down every one of my design ideas.
I would never make that mistake again. From here on out, I was living my life on my terms. My house would look how I wanted it to look. I’d dress how I wanted to dress. I would be exactly who I wanted to be. Never again would I let someone mold me into their version of Hayden.
“Is she down?” Sylvia asked, closing her sudoku book as I pulled out the chair across from her and took a seat.
“Yeah, finally.”
She reached for the drink shaker beside her and poured the concoction into an empty glass she had waiting, then slid it in my direction. I lifted it up and took a sip, already knowing what it was. My great-aunt drank a Tom Collins every single night before bed. The sweet, lemony flavor burst on my tongue, followed by a slight burn the gin left behind as I swallowed and let out a heavy sigh.
“She really loved the teal walls and the butterfly canopy over the scrolled iron headboard. It took forever for her excitement to wear off so I could get her to sleep.”
Sylvia smiled. “I’d like to say I did that just for her, but that room’s looked like that for as long as I can remember.”
I giggled and sucked back more of my drink. “I don’t doubt that for a second.”
My aunt studied me as she sipped her cocktail. “You know, you’re more than welcome to make this
place your own, sweets. I told you, this is yours now. Feel free to change whatever you want.”
In the hours Ivy and I had been here, Sylvia had already made me feel more at home in this house than I ever had in the home I’d shared with Alex. I’d expected Ivy and I would get the guest rooms upstairs, but after hauling everything in and starting to unpack, Sylvia told me the master bedroom was all mine. She’d already had someone come and move her into the carriage house she’d converted to a small apartment years ago at the back of the property. She used to rent the space out, but it had been empty for a while.
“Really, Sylvia, I can’t thank you enough for taking us in, but you moving into the carriage house really wasn’t necessary. I’d have been more than happy making one of the guestrooms my own.”
She waved me off like I was being ridiculous. “Nonsense. It was the most logical choice. I’ve been struggling with those stairs for quite some time now, and this house is too damn big for me. I’m sick and tired of having to clean it. Honestly, sweets, you’re doin’ me a favor. I’m not as young as I used to be. My soul might feel like a fresh-faced twenty-something, but my bones refuse to get onboard.”
She liked to talk as though she was feeling run down, but there wasn’t a doubt in my mind the woman could run circles around me. “Haven’t you heard? Eighty-three is the new thirty.”
She scoffed, lifting one of her perfectly penciled brows. “Tell that to my hips and knees. I was doing yoga in the garden the other day and nearly got stuck in downward-facing dog.”
I laughed for a good long while at the vivid image she’d painted. Once it tapered off, I looked across the table to find her studying me, her eyes shrewd. “What?”
“Nothing. Just glad you’re still able to laugh like that after everything.”
I swallowed, my throat suddenly feeling thick. “Laugh like what?”
“With abandon, my darlin’ girl. A woman gets knocked down the way you did, she could lose that. Puts my heart at ease that you’ve managed to hold on to it with all the ups and downs of late.”
God, I loved my aunt. Not for the first time I thought of how much my family was missing by regarding Sylvia as nothing more than a nutty hippy spinster. Was she a little nutty? Absolutely. However, she was more bohemian than hippy. And she wasn’t a spinster. Far from it, actually. My aunt had her “lovers” tucked away for whenever the need arose, but she lived her life on her own terms and never felt the need for a man to be a permanent fixture. It was an arrangement that worked well for all parties involved.
And she was so incredibly wise, always had been. Our flesh and blood were missing out on the wisdom she could impart.
I loved that she had faith in me, but I wasn’t sure if I deserved all of it. I watched my finger as I traced the rim of my glass, mumbling, “Yeah, well, it’s all because of Ivy. I might be rocking in a corner somewhere if she wasn’t around for me to take care of.”
“What a load of hogwash,” she chided before taking another dainty sip. “You got knocked down by that human piece of garbage you called a husband. Then that waste of oxygen he’s shacking up with kicked you while you were down. As if that wasn’t bad enough, those vultures we’re related to came to pick over your carcass as you lay bleeding. And here you are, sitting right before my very eyes and laughing. That precious girl up there might partly be the reason why, but the rest, my lovely Hayden, is sheer resilience and a spine of steel. And no one can take that away from you. Hear me?”
“I hear you,” I said softly, a smile pulling at my lips.
“Good.” She knocked on the table decisively. “It’s a good thing you’re here. Not just because the mountain air will work wonders to soothe the soul and calm the mind, but because there’s somethin’ in the water here that makes the men folk all kinds of fine, believe you me. If I were forty years younger. Phew.” She waved a hand in front of her face, making me laugh again.
“Believe me, Sylvia, the last thing I’m in the market for is a man.” Tell that to your vagina that’s still thinking about Micah the sex god, the little devil on my shoulder said. “But it’ll be nice to have some eye candy.”
“If it’s eye candy you want, then you’ve come to the right place. Why, just next door there’s a man who could make your spine melt and your mouth water. Bonus, the fine young man wears a badge. Them boys in uniform are really somethin’.”
I already knew all about melting spines and watering mouths, and I seriously doubted Sylvia’s next-door neighbor could compete.
We spent the next few minutes catching up and finishing our cocktails. Sylvia left a short while later, taking the cobblestone path out back to her apartment, and I moved through the house, shutting off the lights and locking up before climbing the stairs to my new room.
It amazed me how, as soon as I laid my head on the pillow, I felt like I was exactly where I was meant to be.
It was on that thought I fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.
Chapter Five
Hayden
I’d officially been in Hope Valley for a week and a half, and with each passing day, I grew happier that I’d taken Sylvia up on her offer. I felt a peace in this small town that I hadn’t known I was missing until I experienced it.
I’d worried about putting Ivy in daycare while I worked the shop since she had stayed home with me every day since she was born, but the moment she caught sight of the coloring station, she was in heaven. She loved the place and was already making friends with the other kids.
Aside from adding a few personal touches, I hadn’t changed much of Sylvia’s—my—house. To me, it was perfect just the way it was, from the chunky crocheted afghans to the macramé wall décor.
Every evening after work, Sylvia took Ivy and me through yoga poses to help us relax and unwind from the day—my girl was surprisingly good at yoga—then I’d make dinner for all of us. I’d forgotten how nice it was to eat a meal as a family, sitting around the table and listening to Ivy as she regaled us with exciting tales of the life of a preschooler.
Once I put her down for bed, Sylvia and I would share a cocktail, sometimes at the kitchen table, but more often in the back garden where I found it the most tranquil. She told me stories about the people she knew in town, going on about kidnappings and drug dealers and such. Most of what she said sounded too farfetched to believe. Hope Valley was a quiet, idyllic little town you’d expect to see in a Thomas Kincaid painting. I couldn’t imagine it being a hotbed of criminal activity.
Still, as she ordered, I made sure to lock all the doors and windows, even when Ivy and I were home. Although I hadn’t met our new neighbor yet, it was comforting to know there was a police officer living right next door.
I was finding my footing at Sylvia’s shop, Divine Flora. She was slowly starting to shift the responsibilities of running the place to me while teaching me everything she knew. I’d always been good with plants and flowers, but she was teaching me how to make eye-catching arrangements as well as the fanciful little fairy gardens I’d fallen in love with at first sight. It was only a matter of time before she’d be able to come and go as she pleased.
I was in the zone, clipping the stems of flowers I thought would look pretty together and stuffing them into a really cool art-deco vase when I heard the bell over the door ring. Looking up from my work, I watched as two women walked inside, heading straight for the counter where Sylvia was working.
One was a short, curvy woman with huge doe eyes and an incredible head of long, thick hair. I wasn’t sure if it was dark blonde or a super light brown, but whatever the case, it was gorgeous. She was also sporting a noticeable baby bump. The other woman was equally curvy, only taller, and she also had incredible hair that was a red several shades darker than my own.
“Hayden,” Sylvia called from across the shop. I looked her way to see her waving me over. “Come over here for a second, darlin’. There’s some people I want you to meet.”
“Be right there.” Tucking the stem of the orchid in p
lace, I took a step back and tilted my head to get a good look at what I’d just created. It wasn’t bad if I said so myself. Wiping my hands on the front of my tie-dye apron, I headed toward the trio.
“Hayden, this here is Eden and Nona. Ladies”—she waved her hand toward me—“this is my great-niece, Hayden Young. She just moved to town and is helpin’ me out with the shop until I can convince her to step fully into my shoes so I can retire once and for all.”
“Hey. Nice to meet you,” I greeted with a congenial grin.
“Right back at you, doll,” the redhead returned. “So, where’d you move here from?”
“Oh, just Richmond. So not too far away.”
“What brings you to Hope Valley?” Eden asked.
“Oh, uh . . . Well—”
“It’s a tale old as time,” Sylvia cut in. “Cheating bastard of a husband sleeps with wife’s best friend, blah, blah, blah. You know how the story goes.” She waved her hand as though the bomb she’d just dropped was no biggie.
“I’m so sorry,” Eden said, those big eyes filling with sincere sympathy.
“Oh, babe. Been down that road,” Nona commiserated. “Only, my ex didn’t bang a friend. He banged the town skank. But that’s a story for another time.”
As strange as this whole conversation was, I kind of wanted to hear the vivacious woman’s story.
“Well, that’s over and done,” Sylvia declared with finality. “What matters is that she and her daughter are here now, they’re doing just fine, and I’m havin’ a cookout next weekend to celebrate their arrival, so be sure to spread the word, ladies.”
“Ooh!” Eden cried, clapping her hands. “Are you going to make that hummus with the lemon juice and chives again? That stuff is amazing and one of the only things I’m able to keep down. This little bean isn’t letting me enjoy much of anything these days,” she said, giving her belly a rub.
“I can certainly add it to the menu.”
Love to Hate You: a Hope Valley novel Page 4