Page 26 of Advice from a Sunflower

The bell rings above my head as I open the door, signaling my arrival to whoever is working the counter today. When I step further inside, I realize the storefront is completely empty. When I left, Mr. and Mrs. Bishop still owned and operated the place despite their declining health. I walk around, admiring every little trinket and flower that litters the messy space as I wait for someone to realize I’m here. Maybe they hadn’t heard the door.

I pull my phone out to send Natalie a quick update just as someone comes rushing from the back, her cheeks flushed and hair in disarray. Her familiar downturned nose is stuck in the air the moment she sees it’s me, thin lips pulled into a straight line.

Emma.

Of course.

“Oh, it’s you,” she greets unapologetically, wiping her hands against the apron tied around her waist.

“Hi, Emma. I’m just here to pick up the arrangements for Denise’s wedding.”

My tone is light and airy; nonthreatening. She has no reason to hate me, especially since we've recently spent a small fortune on overpriced flowers that will most likely be paying her bills this month if my suspicions are correct and she runs the shop now. She still nods wordlessly, walking straight toward the cooler without another glance in my direction.

I clear my throat, deafened by the awkward silence. "So, do the Bishops still own this place? I was looking forward to seeing them.” A smile pulls at my lips with the thought of the ornery old woman and her complacent husband. They were some of my favorite customers when I worked at the diner, always slipping me extra tips and offering conversation when everyone else turned their noses up at me.

Emma carefully gathers a few arrangements and steps out of the cooler, placing them into a box beside me. “They passed away a couple of years ago,” she explains without emotion, turning back into the cooler.

“Oh,” I say, my mouth still forming around the word as I take an inventory of the things she’s grabbing.

I was told there would only be ten small arrangements and four bouquets—one each for Denise, Marnie, and two of Denise’s friends. It was made clear that I was to have nothing to do with the wedding party. Denise’s hatred toward me has only made being back here that much harder and disrupted whatever dysfunctional balance she and Marnie had going before I came. She wants Marnie to pick a side and prove they don't need me, but Marnie refuses. There are clues though—buried deep within the insults thrown my way—that my mother's distaste toward me stems from her own hurt over my leaving. I think a huge part of her believed I'd never actually do it all those years ago. When I stayed away, it only hurt her that much more. I’m still unsure of what to do with that newfound discovery, so I take the abuse and allow her to have her day, just like I always have.

Emma piles five random vases into the box before going back to the cooler.

“Um, I’m sorry, there must be some sort of misunderstanding. I’m only supposed to be picking up the wedding arrangements today.”

She stops, glancing at a piece of paper tacked to the wall before shaking her head. “No, all of these are for Denise and Tim.”

“Okay. But I was only picking up my mother's order. I thought everyone was expected to pick up their own when I called.”

I gesture around us at the various arrangements she just pulled out. Who gifted flowers for a wedding, anyway?

“No, I was told someone would be sent to pick them all up,” she explains, a smirk pulling at her nonexistent lips when she looks outside and sees the tiny car I’m driving.

“Have you ever thought about offering delivery services to your customers again?” I half-joke, trying to figure out how I’m going to fit everything in one trip.

I’ll be stuck driving back and forth through town all day at the rate she’s pulling flowers out.

“No, why would I do that? No one else minds picking them up.” Her tone is defensive. She still speaks to me as if it's the most irritating task she’s ever had to complete.

I grab two boxes and head outside, struggling to walk through the rocky parking lot in heels just as a newer pickup truck pulls in, a pale brooding face glowing from behind the steering wheel. He backs into the spot beside me and swings his door open into me. I nearly roll my ankle trying to avoid him.

Eli doesn't bother greeting me before he's grabbing at one of the boxes in my hands and steadying me before I fall. “Did you order all these yourself?”

I shake my head, hitting the button on the key fob to open the trunk before practically throwing the box of arrangements inside. “I’ve somehow inherited delivery duty.”

His brows knit together in confusion, eyes sliding over to the shop window where Emma had been standing before she quickly ducked out of sight. A sigh passes through his red lips and I hate myself for noticing.

“Let me take them. She must have misunderstood. Marnie sent me here to pick everything up.”

I’m not entirely sure where things left off with Eli and Emma. Marnie never bothered to update me on the putrid pair, avoiding the subject of him altogether after the argument we had the night before I left for Cornell.

I knew they got married shortly after high school, shattering my inexperienced heart into tiny little pieces, but that was the last I’d heard in a while. It’s clear now that they aren’t together anymore, considering the snarl that the she-devil released when he entered her property with me in tow, questioning why she was trying to dump everything onto me.

“How was I supposed to know? It’shermother,” Emma whines, her voice suddenly raising three octaves around her high school sweetheart. It doesn’t appear to have the same charming effect on him as it did before.

“Just get everything ready and I’ll start loading them into my truck,” he relents with an eye roll, grabbing two more large boxes and heaving them over his shoulders effortlessly.

I scramble to open the door for him, following behind with the box of vases I initially came for.

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