Mommy Loves the Principal

“Don’t I get a hello?” Maisie teased him as always. Some days he liked her chipper demeanor. This was not one of those days.”

“Hi,” he mumbled. “I’m going to go check the stock. See you in a bit.”

“Wait,” she called before he could manage to make his escape. “I’ll handle the stock. The staff over at Maple’s called, and they need a delivery first thing. Think you can handle that? The purchase order is on the clock desk.”

“Yeah, I got it.”

Ben hurried to put the order together and load up the designated Sweet Grove Market truck. A smiling red apple beamed from the side of the cargo box. He hated that thing, but he did like having the opportunity to drive around a little, let the wind wash over him as he rolled about town. It sure beat walking everywhere, and since it offered his only opportunity to get behind the wheel, he relished every chance he got. Occasionally, Maisie would let him borrow the truck to head into the next town over and lose himself in the sea of unfamiliar faces.

He’d once loved living in the type of place where everyone knew everyone, and everyone looked out for everyone, but he hated how people who had once been his friends had begun to pity him. Ever since Stephen’s death, they couldn’t even look at him without betraying that sadness. Ben had become a reminder of how fragile life could be, of how everything could go to hell in the briefest of moments. And though their words were kind and their smiles were omnipresent, Ben knew better. He knew that he’d become a burden to them all, that his presence brought them sorrow.

At first he’d tried to redirect them, to speak of something—anything—else, but after a while he just grew tired. It was easier to avoid them than to constantly have to apologize for the blight his terrible, selfish brother had brought onto their town. He’d have left if he could. By vehicle or bullet, it didn’t matter.

But his mother needed him. And as small and insignificant as it seemed, so did Mai

sie.

So he remained, day after day.

And so began another dark morning for Ben Davis.

Summer Smith arrived in Sweet Grove right around that awkward time of day when the sun was starting to set and ended up in her eyes no matter how hard she tried to look away. She loved sunshine, which is why she’d jumped at the chance to attend college in Southern California, but now those four years had reached their conclusion and had left Summer more confused than ever about her future.

Thank goodness her Aunt Iris needed her to run the Morning Glory flower shop for the season. Aunt Iris was going off on some fancy cruise she’d been saving up for half her adult life. True, that didn’t speak well of the money to be earned being a small-town florist, but, then again, Summer had never been much taken with flowers anyhow.

The problem remained that she’d never really been much taken with anything. And now that she’d reached that pivotal stage of needing to pick a career and finally set down roots, she was hopelessly lost. Two months, one week, and three days—that’s how much time she had to figure it out. At that point, Aunt Iris would return from her sail around the world and be ready to take back her shop and home. So for the next two months and some-odd days, Summer would be living a borrowed life. Luckily, she’d always liked her Aunt Iris.

Her aunt greeted her at the door wearing a brightly colored blouse with leaf fronds printed along the neckline, and with freshly dyed hair that still smelled of chemicals. “Oh, there’s my Sunny Summer!” she cooed.

Summer laughed as her aunt hopped up and down, holding her tight. The hug probably could have lasted for days if a loud screeching hadn’t erupted from deep within the small ranch house. Iris let go of her niece and breezed through the doorway, dragging the smaller of Summer’s suitcases behind her.

“Oh, enough, Sunny Sunshine!” she called in the direction of the screeching, leaving Summer to wonder if her aunt affixed Sunny to the start of everyone’s name these days.

The shrieking continued, growing louder as they made their way back toward the living room. There, in the far corner beside the small stone fireplace, sat a large iron cage with a colorful blur of feathers which screamed its lungs out.

Iris rushed over and unlatched the cage, then drew out the little yellow and orange bird on a delicately poised finger. “Now that’s not how you make a good first impression. Is it, Sunny?”

The bird ruffled its feathers like a marigold flower, then shook itself out.

Iris laughed. “Much better. Now meet Summer.” She puckered her lips and blew a stream of air at the little bird, who made a happy bubble-like noise. Iris then offered the parrot to Summer who took a step back.

“I-I just . . . You didn’t say anything about a bird!”

“Oh, Sunny won’t be any bother. Besides, you’ll be grateful for the company once you’re settled in and looking for a bit of fun.”

“I tend to prefer the company of humans.”

“Sunny is the human-est bird you will ever meet. Aren’t you, my baby?” She placed the little sun conure on her shoulder, and he immediately burrowed below the neckline of her blouse and stuck his head back up through the hole, making Iris look like a strange two-headed monster. Summer had to admit that Sunny was cute. Maybe she and the bird could come to some kind of agreement during their months together.

Iris—bird in tow—showed Summer around the house, pointing out which plants needed to be watered when and taking extra care when it came to describing the needs of her little feathered friend.

“Is that it?” Summer asked when the two had settled onto the loveseat following the grand tour.

“Pretty much. What else do you need to know?”

“How to run the shop, for one. Also, what am I going to do with myself to keep busy during the nights?”

“I’ve written everything down in a big binder and left it for you near the cash register. Everything in the shop is clearly marked as well. You’ll use the key with the daisy head to open up. Hours are eight to three. And as for how you’ll keep busy . . .” Her eyes flashed as she bit back a Cheshire cat-size smile. “Life in a small town is never boring. You’ll see.”