Page 78 of Lula Dean's Little Library of Banned Book
“And terrifying!”
“Something like that happening in a beautiful place like this. Makes you wonder what the world is coming to.”
“That kind of thing is not who we are,” Kari said. “We’re all good, wholesome folks round here.”
Ken lowered the volume and looked over at his wife, who hadn’t eaten a kernel of the popcorn clenched in her fist.
“What the hell just happened?” he asked.
“I don’t know, Papa,” Kari told him. “But I think we’re fake news.”
Chapter 32
The Heroes of Troy
“Nahla Crump!” Betsy Wright called out from her shop door.
The skinny twelve-year-old stopped typing into her phone and ducked behind a Volkswagen.
Mrs. Wright’s laugh made Nahla think of apple pie bubbling up through its crust. “I saw you peeping in through my window just now,” she said. “Thought maybe you were bored and could use a job.”
Nahla stepped out from behind the car. People thought she was shy ’cause she didn’t say much. Nahla was not shy in the slightest. When she wanted to be seen, she showed herself. When she had something to say, she said it. “How much does it pay?” she asked.
Betsy Wright seemed to approve of that response. “Five dollars and a red velvet cupcake.”
“Three cupcakes,” Nahla haggled. “No dollars.”
“Only have two cupcakes left. It’s been a busy day, and your father took one when he stopped by with the mail this morning.”
“Two is fine.” Whatever the job was, Nahla would have done it for one. “My dad says your cupcakes are the best he’s ever eaten.”
“Your daddy ain’t wrong,” Mrs. Wright said. “Come on in for a moment.”
Nahla kept a straight face, but inside, she was beaming. Two cupcakesanda chance to check out Fairview Florist? Days didn’t get any better than this.
Nahla was eight the first time she visited the shop with her mother. As soon as she left, she constructed a replica in her mind. Whenever Nahlawas bored, she’d pay the florist a visit and spend a few hours crafting bouquets like the ones Mrs. Wright made. As soon as she was old enough to wander through Troy on her own, the flowers called to her like sirens. But they weren’t the reason she’d been lurking around outside the florist that afternoon. Nahla was investigating. She needed details for the story she was writing about Betsy Wright.
It had been a while since Nahla had been inside the florist’s shop, and she was delighted to find it exactly as she remembered. The air inside was cool and layered with fragrance. She picked up top notes of rose, eucalyptus, and lily. Dozens of other scents blended together into a magical perfume. A refrigerated case lined one wall of the shop, and behind its glass doors lay Eden. Lush ferns and flowers of every imaginable color. Clouds of hydrangeas and fluffy pink pillows of peonies. Giant monstera leaves pressed against the windows and vines probed the crevices.
The walls of the shop had been painted a rich forest green. On the white marble counter, Betsy Wright’s latest creation was taking shape. It wasn’t even half done, but it was already a wonder to behold. Nahla caught a whiff of the giant white magnolias, and they pulled her to them with a heavenly scent.
“How old are you now, Nahla?” she heard Mrs. Wright ask. “Last time I saw you, you dressed up for Halloween like a mini Black Panther princess with your hair in Bantu knots.”
“I turned twelve in May.”
“You’re going to look just like your mama when she was in high school. You know there were boys who’d drive all the way from Alabama just to come watch her cheer?”
Nahla shrugged and continued to examine the arrangement. Besides the flowers, there were saw briars, wild strawberries, moss, and an empty wasp nest. “Being pretty’s overrated.”
“Is that right?” The way Mrs. Wright said it made Nahla wonder if she’d passed some kind of test. “Then what would you rather be?”
“A force to be reckoned with.” She’d once heard her father refer to hermother that way. He’d said it with such awe and respect that Nahla had decided right then and there to follow in her mama’s footsteps.
Mrs. Wright chuckled. “Well, you got that in your blood, too.” Everyone in Troy knew her mother basically ran the whole courthouse. Nobody dared mess with Wanda Crump.
“Who’s this bouquet for?” Nahla asked.
“Bernice Hutton,” Mrs. Wright said. “You know her?”
