Page 29 of When in Rome

Right. That’s my fault for expecting anything different.

I don’t even bother reading all of Susan’s messages. I glancethrough the first twenty, and at first, they are kind and placating. She gently asks me to reconsider and come back. They then quickly jump into reprimanding authority figure:Remember your duty.You would think by the guilt trips she throws at me in these texts that it was a war I didn’t show up to rather than an interview.

But one thing is clear as her texts progress: Susan is not comfortable with me being outside of her reach. A little light turns on in the corner of my mind, but I don’t have time to explore it right now. I shut off my phone without responding to anything else, making a mental note to call my housekeeping service later. I told Susan I would be in contact Sunday night, and I’m sticking toit.

—

The ride into town with Annie feels like a decompression chamber after a loud, exhilarating brunch with her sisters. How those women can all talk at once and still manage to follow each other’s conversations is sheer talent. I felt like I was witnessing a sitcom and had to physically sit on my hands to keep from clapping when one of them would say something funny.

Now I’m in Annie’s truck (apparently you have to own one if you live around here) and we’re pulling into town. Most small towns I’ve traveled through are shaped like a square. Rome is shaped like a lowercase “t” with both roads extending out to farmland and locals’ houses. Most of the shops are made of brick, with colorful awnings above the storefronts. It’s a tiny minuscule dot on a map, and if you blink while driving, you’ll miss it. But somehow they manage to have everything you need right here. Just on Main Street they have an ice cream shop, hardware store, market, coffee shop, diner, flower shop, and of course The Pie Shop. No one parks on the street; instead, Annie drives us over to the communal lot beside Phil’s Hardware. Morbidly, I wonder if when someone dies around here, the new store owner changes the shop name, or ifthey change their given name to fit the store? Maybe there’s a whole cemetery somewhere full of Phils and Hanks.

Two steps out of the truck and I spot Noah’s burnt orange Chevy. I knew he’d be here. He’s the whole reason I’m in town right now, and still, I’m frozen as my eyes glue themselves to the side of his truck. An inanimate object shouldn’t evoke the warm, fluttery feelings sweeping through my body right now, but it does. It really does. I blame it on the man’s overall mystery and the added bonus of a time crunch. It reminds me of summer camp as a teenager. You know you’ll only be there for a few days, so immediately you set out to find the hottest person available, zero in on them, and initiate instant-crush. That’s all this is. It’s a crush. Attraction. Forbidden. Temporary. My body likes his body and that’s all there is toit.

When Annie clears her throat, I realize I’m staring at Noah’s truck as if I’d like to make love to it. She graciously doesn’t comment and I catch up to where she’s been standing watching me drool. I feel like a supercool person right now, let me tell you.

Annie’s flower shop is neighbors with The Pie Shop and she asks if I want to come inside with her first. Since I’m apparently the world’s biggest coward, I jump at the chance to put off my meeting with Noah. Her shop is the Disney World of flower shops. It’s bursting with color and natural light and the innate feeling that everything will turn out okay in life. Tubs of flowers line the walls and in the back of the shop is a giant old farmhouse table, painted white.

“What made you want to start a flower shop?” I ask her as I pick out a few different single-stemmed flowers and piece them together into a bouquet. A sunflower, a few daisies, a big, pink, puffy, cone-shaped one, and a few stems of greenery. I’m not sure I’m cut out for assembling bouquets after I see them all grouped together in my hand.

“My mom. She loved flowers.” We make eye contact over my shoulder when she saysloved.Past tense. Annie doesn’t make me ask. “Or so I was so told. She died when I was little so I don’t remember a lot about her,” she says, all while taking the small bouquet from my hand, removing the cone-shaped flower and replacing it with a soft pink rose and then adding in a few orange carnations.Much better.She then places it on her worktable where she wraps the bundle in brown paper, fastens a little twine bow around it, and adds a sticker with her logo.

“I’m sorry to hear that. But it’s a lovely idea to run a flower shop in her memory.”

Annie’s smile is like a ray of sunshine. “It is. And I think she’d be thrilled to know I named the store after her.” She points to the hand-painted calligraphy sign behind her worktable.Charlotte’s Flowers.A million questions float through my mind about when she passed away, and how; but none of them are any of my business, so I keep quiet and pull my wallet from my purse to pay for the bouquet.

Annie chuckles, shaking her head. “It’s on me today.”

“No, really, I want to pay,” I say, immediately feeling guilty. I can’t not pay for this. It would look tacky—especially since I’m the one sitting on millions of dollars over here, and she’s running a niche business in a tiny town. Even Noah buys flowers from her often so her business doesn’t go under.

But then Annie just hands the bouquet over the table to me with a soft, dimpled smile. “A token of friendship.” Her gesture rams into me. She’s not asking anything of me. Doesn’t want my money. Just friendship.

Her smile dims into sympathy when she sees my face. “Are you…crying?”

“No!Absolutely not.” I sniffle. “That’s—no. I would be—it’s the flowers. I think I’m…allergic. Or maybe just the sleeping pill still making its way out of my system.”

She laughs. “Mm-hmm. Sure. I think you got hit with the feelings allergy.”

I sigh and clutch the flowers desperately to my chest. “Yeah…maybe. Something about this town is really making them actup.”

“Imagine living here,” she says with an amused twinkle in her eye.

But no. I absolutely will not imagine that, because I know I would like it far too much. In fact, it’s time for me to go and see the man that I know will wipe away any of these illusions. He’ll be grumpy and stern and make me feel like my company is the last thing on earth he wants, and it will be lovely.

Before I leave the flower shop, I have Annie help me put together a bouquet of Noah’s favorite flowers (which I convince her to let me pay for).

—

“You stand there much longer and your feet will grow roots, making those flowers sprout out the top of your head.”

I expel a breath and look over my shoulder. Mabel is walking toward me on the sidewalk, floral print cotton dress swaying in the breeze, leather loafers lightly squeaking under her feet. Her wise eyes slip from me to The Pie Shop I’m standing just to the side of, and then back to me. She stops beside me, her ample hips nearly brushing against mine. I’m holding the flower bouquets against my chest like they’re newborn babies and I’ll protect them with my life.

“I’m too nervous to go in,” I admit openly, because instinctively I know Mabel would accept nothing less. She’d see right through any lie of mine.

We stand quietly shoulder to shoulder like two soldiers on the outskirts of battle. She breaks the reverent silence without looking at me. “Why are you here, young lady?”

“Because Noah asked meto—”

“No.” Her raspy voice barks, making me jump a little. A quick reminder that she may be nurturing but she’s not soft. “In this town. Why are you here?”

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