Page 50 of Just Let Go

Hailey’s eyes narrowed. “You’re never late.”

“I am sometimes.”

“Never.”

Quinn looked away. Hailey knew something about her was different this morning. Hailey always knew.

“We could set our watches by you, Quinn,” Lucy said. “What’s going on?”

Quinn opened her menu, but Hailey snatched it away from her. “Spill it.”

“Nothing. I was up late working on my designs for the carnival; that’s all. It’s a lot harder than I thought it would be.”

“You haven’t finished your designs yet?” Hailey’s face fell. “It’s only a few weeks away.”

“I know.”Don’t remind me.

“Don’t you have to, like, order flowers and stuff?” Lucy took a drink of her mocha.

“Yes,” Quinn said. “As soon as I figure out what to order.”

“Maybe this is just too much all at once,” Hailey said. “Buying the shop, renovating it, building the display for the carnival. You’re putting a lot of pressure on yourself.”

Quinn didn’t respond. She didn’t want to hear that she’d taken on too much. As overwhelmed as she was, there was nothing she could take off her plate.

A waitress named Shannon brought Quinn her usual latte. She thanked her and took a quick drink even though she still had a whole travel mug of coffee—which she’d made solely for the purpose of busying herself while Grady Benson awoke on her couch this morning. She didn’t feel right about leaving him asleep in her apartment, but figuring out how to wake him hadn’t been easy. Did she throw things at him? Shake him? Set an alarm?

In the end she’d opted for the make-a-lot-of-noise option. It had worked.

“I’m serious,” Hailey said. “You can enter your design next year. Why are you in such a hurry?”

Quinn leveled her gaze. “You know why.”

Hailey sighed. “Maybe this isn’t the best way to get her attention.”

“You’re saying this to me now? This is all I’ve ever talked about doing since I saw her at the Expo three years ago.” Quinn tried not to think about that moment, but somehow it always came back to haunt her.

She and Mimi had been walking the floor. They didn’t have a display in the finals—no surprise there. Mimi had been submitting the same old tired displays for at least ten years, and she wasn’t open to any new or creative ideas.

The image of her Alice in Wonderland display raced through hermind. It had turned out even better than she’d imagined. If only Mimi would’ve agreed. If only she’d entered it, this whole thing would be behind her now.

They’d been at the Expo all day, and the crowd was beginning to thin out when they rounded a corner at the end of one aisle where a company showcasing new, environment-friendly flowerpots was situated. That’s when Quinn saw her. An older version of her mother—same slight build, her hair cut shorter than it had been when she’d left all those years before.

Mimi had gasped then, just a quick, shallow intake of air, and Quinn had frozen to the spot.

“Mom.” Quinn had whispered the word, and even as she did, it felt wrong. How many years had it been since she’d heard a word from the woman who had practically hung the moon for her as a girl? She’d been waiting for so long to see her again, and now, here she was.

She’d played the moment over and over in her mind for years. She practically had a script of what she would say if ever given the chance. But here, on the Expo floor, she realized there were no words. She ran off before her mother ever saw her.

It was one of her greatest regrets.

Mimi told her later that her mother hadn’t given up everything about her old life. Only her family. Her career in the floral industry was still going strong. In fact, she wasn’t just an exhibitor at the Expo—she was a board member and a judge of the design competition, which was, perhaps, the true reason why the old woman had never allowed Quinn’s designs on their entry form. She was worried about more than Quinn’s career—she was worried about her heart.

Jacie Collins was at the top of their industry, and while that was about all the information Quinn had amassed on the woman, it was enough for an idea to hatch.

She’d create a design that deserved her mother’s attention, a design that would remind her mother that what she’d given up—whoshe’d given up—was worthy of a blue ribbon.

To prove that her mother had made a mistake.

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