Page 11 of Wedding Bells in Silverwood

“Oh, hello.” The woman—the local florist, Viola realized—placed a final bag inside the hatch before shutting her trunk.

“Is it okay if I pet your dog?” Viola asked. “I think he just saved my life.”

“Is that a fact?”

“Yeah. That car that just left would have clipped me if he hadn’t barked.”

“Sounds about right. Blitzen has some quick reflexes. Sure, feel free to pet him. He would love that.”

Viola bent forward and rubbed the top of Blitzen’s head, whispering her gratitude. Blitzen panted, and Viola could have sworn his lips were forming a grin.

“You work with Nick, right?” the woman asked.

“Yes. I’m Viola.”

“Oh, yeah. Evelyn Carver’s daughter. I’m Melissa. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too.”

“And I’m glad Blitzen could be of service.”

Viola gave her a nod. “Me too. I’ll see you around.”

Viola made a mental note to get flowers from Melissa’s shop or a nice Christmas wreath or poinsettia for her mom.

Fifteen minutes later, Viola pulled into her mother’s driveway, which she was relieved to see had been cleared of snow. Oliver had been by—the college student who helped her mother out with heavy lifting and other chores for extra cash.

Viola exited the car and glanced at her mother’s quaint, two-story home. She couldn’t help but recall running around the yard with her sister Sina when they were little, being pushed on the tire swing her father had hung from the big oak tree out front. And the nights she and Sina would refuse to come down from their treehouse after their mother had called them to dinner.

A tall, burly man with dirty blond hair sticking out from a black beanie climbed down a ladder propped against the garage. He set down the bag in his hand and waved.

“Oliver, I didn’t think you’d still be here.”

Oliver removed his gloves. “Your mom was worried the rain gutters might be jammed.”

“Didn’t you clean them out in October?”

“Yeah, but she said Silverwood’s due for more storms soon.”

“Isn’t it always?” She went to the trunk to retrieve her grocery bags. “Are you staying for dinner or working at the restaurant tonight?”

“No, I promised Amy we could catch a movie.”

“Nice.” Viola always thought Oliver and Amy made a perfect match.

“You need a hand with those before I take off?” he asked.

“No, thanks. I’m all set. Have fun at the movies. Say hi to Amy for me.”

“Thanks. I will.”

The sun was already setting on an otherwise bright and clear day. One more reason not to waste any more time dwelling on Jonas. The hinges on the door gave off their familiar squeaks as she carried the groceries into the house, and Viola made a note to add oiling them to Oliver’s to-do list.

“Mom? It’s me.”

“Be right there.” Her mother’s voice came from another room.

The low, buzzingwhooshof Evelyn Carver’s wheelchair grew louder as she moved closer to the kitchen. Viola unpacked the groceries, grouping the vegetables on the counter.

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