Page 47 of The Serendipity

“I don’t know,” Sophie says. “Do we ever mature beyond that? Or do we all just find different, more adult ways to do the same things?”

The question makes me irrationally angry. “Archer doesnotlike me. If he did, he wouldn’t be putting me out of business.”

All traces of humor leave Sophie’s face. “I’m sorry, Willa. Truly.”

“It’s fine. I mean, no—it’s not. But I’m failing at all the business stuff anyway. He’s just expediting the process.”

I like that Sophie is the kind of friend who doesn’t try to make me feel better with lies or half-truths.

“It sucks. Men suck.”

“Hear, hear.”

“It probably means a similar fate for me soon,” she says glumly. “If he’s making you pay to use the kitchen, he’s not going to fund this garden.”

When she first moved into the Serendipity, Sophie discovered the garden, overgrown and unkempt. Mostly filled with weeds and a few leftover shrubs and things someone else had planted…and neglected. Everything else, she began to overhaul. First, with her own money, saved when she could, and then with a monthly stipend Galentine added once she saw what Sophie had done.

Galentine had been delighted to see the garden restored to its former glory. And Sophie was more than happy to take on an unofficial role as rooftop gardener since, to my surprise, the job of landscape architect takes place mostly behind a desk. Thereare raised beds with perennials and flowering bushes. Concrete planters Sophie will fill with annuals in the coming weeks. Trellises and arches stretch overhead with creeping vines. Later in the spring, wisteria will bloom, its lilac flowers hanging like clusters of grapes.

I wince, feeling selfish because I’ve only been thinking about my situation. The garden isn’t something she’ll be able to keep up without the stipend. Her financial situation isn’t dire like mine, but with some student loans, she’s not rolling around in extra money. Definitely not the kind it would take to maintain a garden of this size.

She’s right about Archer, of course. His M.O. seems to be business first, people last. If at all.

I wish I could tell her she won’t need to worry about Archer ruining what she’s created here. But I have zero reassurances. I mean, if he could announce he’s going to charge me rent after I helped him with the trash and the possum—and after the moment we shared, which I’m trying to forget we shared—I can’t see him continuing to fund Sophie’s stipend.

“This is a funny looking weed.” I reach for a vine with wide, flat leaves growing up the trunk of a Japanese maple.

Sophie grabs my arm before I can yank it out of the ground. “Leave that one.”

“Whatisit?”

“I’m not sure, actually. I haven’t been able to identify it. The mystery is kind of giving me life right now.”

“You’re a weirdo, Soph.”

She gives me a light shove. “Takes one to know one.”

As we move to the next bed, I say, “Trey’s moving home.”

Sophie, made of the stuff of epic best friends, gasps. As she should.

“And he’s engaged.”

Her gasp morphs into a throttled growl of outrage that makes me smile, despite the words I’ve said. It’s the first time I’ve had to say them. The first time since dinner with my parents I’ve thought about them. Abouthim. Trey, my newly-engaged-to-someone-else ex, moving back to Serendipity Springs.

It’s … not so bad. I’m not sure if I’m just strangely numb, if I’ve expended all my emotional energy on the undeserving Archer Gaines, or if I really amthatover Trey, but it feels nice to feel nothing.

“No,” Sophie hisses.

“Yes.”

“Tell me everything.”

Sophie loves to gather and store information like it’s ammunition. For what battle, I’m not sure. But when it comes, I want her on my side.

“My mom didn’t tell me much. I guess they met while he was in France, and now they’ve moved back here.”

“A French girl?” Sophie says with a sneer, likely not because of the French but just because it’s Trey we’re talking about.

---