Page 51 of Wicked Games We Play

A smile met her eyes as she watched the emotions dance across my face. I stared at her in shock, not really knowing what to say except for the one thing that was blatantly obvious. “Mrs. Landry, this is… I can’t thank you enough for this offer, but I can’t afford to buy the shop.”

“Oh, but you can, sweet girl. I think you’ll find my selling price quite reasonable.” She turned to the notebook she had been writing in and ripped out the top sheet of paper before handing it to me.

I took it with trembling hands, and skimmed the words, finding the selling price underlined at the bottom of the page. My mouth fell open in disbelief. “You want to sell the flower shop to me for eight thousand dollars? Mrs. Landry, this building is worth several hundred thousand dollars. You cannot seriously consider selling it for only eight thousand.”

“Well, I wouldn’t just sell it to anyone for eight thousand dollars, honey girl. That price is for you and you alone. I want to see you succeed, Lily, and to succeed you need a building.” She stopped, resettling herself on the stool. “My Frederick and I had no children, but you have been like a daughter to me for the past six years. I want nothing more than to help you fulfill your dreams. I know from experience how challenging it can be to operate a small, specialty shop, Lily, and owning your own building will cut overhead costs drastically. Let me do this for you.”

“But Mrs. Landry, you’ll be losing so much money…”

“What do I need money for, girl? I have plenty to keep me fed and happy for the rest of my days. It serves me no purpose to sell the building with a realtor and put the money in the bank. Either you buy the shop for eight thousand or I sell it for more and leave you some money in my will, which I intend on doin’ anyway.”

“Oh gosh, no, Mrs. Landry, that’s not necessary.” I could hardly believe what she was saying. If I didn’t know her so well, I would think she was becoming senile and I’d be a little worried. But the woman was as sharp as a Harvard graduate and knew exactly what she was offering.

“Shh, Lily, what did that man of yours say before he left?”

I bit down on my lip, distracting my mind to focus on pain instead of the tears I could feel cresting. “To do the things I feel like I’m meant to do,” I repeated Noah’s words, my stomach dipping as I did.

“And you do feel like having your boutique is something that you’re meant to do, do you not?” she asked, an inquisitive look on her face as her left eyebrow raised in question.

“I do,” I stammered, my voice barely audible as I lost myself in thought. Could I accept this from her? Was I taking advantage of a sweet old woman if I accepted this from her? Could I actually be a business owner?

“I’ll have my lawyers draw up the paperwork and we’ll get this show on the road. I’ll accept one lump sum, or monthly payments if that works better for you.”

“Mrs. Landry—”

“Just say ‘thank you’, Lily. I won’t accept no for an answer. You will follow your dreams,” she concluded, sliding off of her stool and grabbing her cane, before traipsing into the walk-in refrigerator, ending the conversation and not allowing me to argue further.

Silently, I stared at the closed door that she had disappeared behind, reeling over the entire conversation once more, doubting whether I had heard her correctly. She was pushing me to follow my dreams and had total faith in me that I could do this.

I could do this.

Iwoulddo this.

Owning my home decor boutique was within reach. I would own my own business, follow my dream, and chase my passion daily.

It was time to research everything that I needed to know and learn and to start ironing out the details. Visions of what could be flooded my mind as I looked around Mrs. Landry’s flower shop and the way it currently was. There were so many things I could do with this space.

I was going to own my own home decor boutique.

“Thank you,” I whispered into the empty room. “Thank you.”

* * *

“Mom!Can I go outside and play with Luca?”

Jordan was halfway out the front door when I called, “Yeah, bud, but dinner’s in about thirty minutes. Don’t be too long, please.”

Rather than acknowledgement that he had heard me, the door slamming was the response I received. I shook my head. Although it was annoying that Jordan was in full-blown early pre-teen mode, a fullness stretched my heart, knowing that he was happy and healthy.

The onions I chopped were stinging my eyes and making them water, but I pushed through, excited for the chicken stir-fry I was working on for dinner. After using a knife to shovel the veggies into my largest frying pan, I grabbed the glass of red wine I was sipping and reached for my phone, illuminating the screen. I nearly dropped the wine glass when I saw I had an unread text message from an unknown number. An anxious excitement spiked through my veins, and I swiped to open the message.

UNKNOWN: Roses are red, violets are blue, both are pretty, but the most gorgeous Flower is YOU.

Four and a half weeks had gone by without hearing from him and within sixteen words, I was practically a pile of goo on the floor. Elated was an understatement, but since he had left, I’d had a pit in my stomach gnawing away at me daily, and I needed answers.

Me: Are you doing okay?

I was worried he wouldn’t text back since he had warned me that messages would be few and far between, so I was grateful when he responded immediately.

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