Page 6 of His Greatest Treasure

“No.”

“Okay, so?”

“So?”

“So, why are you asking me what time it is, then?”

I look at the moving truck and then back at her. “It’s seven in the morning on aSaturday. Why are you being so goddamn loud? You’re going to wake the entire neighbourhood with all your banging and clanging.”

“I wasn’t under the impression there’s a certain time I’m allowed to make noise.”

“And you need to be told not to slam shit around at this time? I assumed it was common courtesy.”

She arches a brow at that, eyes flaring with anger, that soft emotion long gone. “I don’t have to explain myself or my reasons for moving at this time of day to you.”

“Look,” I begin, trying to level my tone. “You just bought the place, right? The house wasn’t on the market for very long, but the old owners were nice people.”

“And you assume I’m not a nice person because I’ve started moving in too early?”

“Should I assume differently?”

“Yeah, actually.” She scoffs, darting her eyes to thedoor of her place. “If you’re done yelling at me now, I want to finish hauling my stuff inside.”

I rake my fingers through my hair, my head pulsing harder than minutes ago. “Can you wait?”

She tilts her head at me, looking at me a bit too closely. “Why?”

“Because it’s never a good idea to make enemies of your neighbours on your first day in a new place?”

“And that’s what I’ve become? An enemy all because I needed to unpack my things this morning?”

“Glad we cleared that up.”

Hurt flickers in the blue of her eyes before she blinks it away. Surely, I haven’t beenthatrude. I can’t have hurt her feelings. Annoy and anger her, yeah. But hurt? I narrow my stare and try to dig inside her head to figure out what’s going on.

She jams her hands onto her sloped hips and glares at me. “The only thing we cleared up is that you’re anass.”

“Just keep the noise down. Some of us are trying to sleep,” I grit out before spinning on my heels and leaving her on the lawn.

I don’t want to hear another word. Silence sounds like fucking bliss right now. So does a solid eight hours of sleep. It’s what I would have gotten before I was woken early.

Maybe then I’ll wake up with no pain in my head and a calmness that I’m severely lacking. One can hope, anyway. If not, my brother is going to regret asking me to come to his game.

3

AVERY

I’ve lovedflowers since I was a little girl growing up in Sweden.

The majority of my childhood was spent lying in the meadow behind the house that bloomed with smörblomma. Tall buttercups are what they call them in North America, and the name is fitting. I’d collect bundles of the bright and glossy yellow flowers and keep them in my room. They didn’t last awfully long, but by the time they were drooping, I was replacing them with more.

That’s where my fascination started. It’s only grown over the years, and as I step into Linnea and Lillies, an overwhelming sensation of comfort washes over me. With a long inhale, I ignore the scent of mildew and focus on the hint of flowers from the lone bouquet that sits on the counter.

This place is far from being ready to open, but I’m not in a rush. It was always a dream of mine to open my own flower shop, and after spending nine years back in Canada getting my life together to the point it became a reality, I want it to be perfect no matter the timeline.

“It stinks in here, Mom. Like Dad’s sweaty socks.”

I roll my lips to keep from laughing and turn to face my daughter. Her button nose is scrunched, thin blondish-whitebrows tugged together as she strolls through the place like she owns it. With a dainty finger pointed, she drags it over the shelf on the wall and inspects it for dust.

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