Page 32 of Catching Feels

“I worked behind a counter at a snack shack through high school.”

“But you’re going to help out with some events in Blue Valley?” she asks.

“I am. Pretty excited to be back?—”

“Any chance you’re free tonight after the game? We had two call-outs, and I know it’s going to be crazy in here.”

“Yeah, sure, if you don’t mind me flubbing my way through.”

She squeals and hugs me. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“No problem.” I smile. “What’s the dress code?”

“Any chance you own and Jersey Jags attire?” She grins.

“I think I can find something.”

“Perfect.” She squats down and gives Ellie some much-appreciated attention. “Your auntie Jillian is a lifesaver.”

Then she stands up. “All right, see you tonight.” And then she all but skips away.

As we walk away, I look down at Ellie. “I’ll take two of whatever she’s drinking.”

I expect that she’ll lead me to cross the road and take us to Wags, but she doesn’t. She keeps on trotting down the road and pulls me left.

As soon as we turn, I see the source of the amazing smell.

“Delivery day?” I ask Ellie.

From behind the truck comes, “For another month.”

I should know better than to carry on a conversation with a strange man, but I don’t. He’s clearly having a shit day, and I can empathize with that.

“Let’s hope not.”

“The old man’s closing the place down,” the man with the round belly and white beard grumbles.

“You sniveling about it is not gonna change a damn thing, Frankie,” an older man carrying a crate says. “Now move out of my way, or you’ll be unloading this truck yourself.”

He glances at me, and then down at Ellie, then back at me. “You know the Hart fella?”

I smile. “He’s my brother.”

“Kid’s been keeping me in business. He’s gonna have to go elsewhere soon.”

“That must be why Ellie dragged me this way, and here I thought it was the lavender we smelled from down the street.” I look up, see the sign, “Etta’s Beautiful Bouquets,” and know exactly why Rome comes here often. “Etta’s a name you don’t hear often anymore.”

“Was my wife’s name. She died. This is her shop.” He glances at the driver. “Never was mine.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

He lifts his chin. “Come on, Ellie; your treats are in here.”

She stands up and follows him inside, dragging me along with her.

Inside, it’s … messy, disorganized, and has clearly not been taken care of for some time. I would safely bet it was after his wife’s death.

“Has Rome ever told you our grandmother’s name?” I ask, following him.

---