“Hey, sweetheart,” Brooke says as she approaches. She sets the flowers on the island, and Shelly’s eyes fall to them. She looks tired. Maybe a little lost. And when she sees the sunflowers, her shoulders sag, whether in sadness or relief, I’m not sure.
“Oh, Derek,” she whispers, and pulls the letter out of the blooms. “He’s left me letters all over the place.”
“That’s sweet,” Brooke says. “I’m very sorry for your loss, Shelly.”
The other woman nods, a small smile touching her lips as she brushes her fingertips over the sunflowers.
“These were his favorite.” She takes a deep, ragged breath. “But you already knew that.”
“Are you going to read the letter?” Blake asks her sister. Shelly hugs the envelope to her chest and shakes her head.
“I’ve been saving them for bedtime because that’s the worst time for me. It makes me feel like he’s there with me.”
“He is,” Blake says and wraps her arm around Shelly’s shoulders, giving her a supportive hug. “He’s still here.”
Shelly nods and smiles at Brooke. “Thanks for these. I’m sure Derek was in cahoots with you for a while. That’s just how he was. A planner.”
“I thought I was a planner, and I don’t have anything on him,” Brooke says with a small laugh. “We’d been planning this for about a year.”
“A year,” Shelly whispers. “That’s when we thought he was in remission. He was feeling so good.”
“And took the opportunity to get things in order, just in case,” Blake adds, smoothing her sister’s hair back from her face.
“Thank you,” Shelly says to Brooke, holding her hand out to squeeze Brooke’s. “This is really special.”
“You’re welcome.”
After we’ve paid our respects, we’re back in Brooke’s car, headed back to the shop.
“I don’t really know what to say.” My voice fills the car, sounding louder than I intended. “I don’t think I could do your job.”
“There are sad days like today,” she agrees. “But like I said earlier, it gave Shelly a moment of happiness. And, thankfully, not every day is like this. Just wait until Saturday.”
“What’s happening on Saturday?”
“You’ll see.”
Chapter Five
~Brooke~
It was a shit-tastic day.
I didn’t let Brody see how horrible it felt to deliver those flowers to Shelly today. It was tearing my heart out of my chest. But I can’t let the customer see that, and I need Brody to realize just how special my business is, and how the community needs it.
On top of being sad, it’s a scorcher today. It’s been a hot summer, hotter than normal, and for the first time since I bought my house, I’m regretting not having air conditioning added.
This house was built in the sixties. It’s been updated, but no one ever added the convenience of A/C, mostly because we typically only have a few weeks of unbearably hot weather a year, so it really isn’t worth the expense unless you’re building a brand new house.
Not to mention, it still cools way down at night, and those of us who grew up here have mastered the art of trapping the cool air inside for the majority of the day.
This year, however, has been a Mother Nature shitshow.
I have several fans oscillating in each room, all of the doors and windows open, and I’m still a sweaty mess.
It’s not dripping off of me, but I’m shiny for sure.
I’m in tiny shorts and a tank top. I can’t make my clothes any smaller, unless I get naked. And right now, that doesn’t sound half bad.
Just as I’ve decided to go take a dip in the lake, there’s a knock on the front door.
“Hello?” Brody calls through the screen.
“Hey.” I hold it open, gesturing for him to come inside. “Enter at your own risk. I’m living inside an oven.”
“Is your air conditioning broken?” he asks, but my eyes are on the cold beer and pizza in his hands.
“No, I don’t have it. Are we having a party?”
“The game’s on,” he says with a grin. “It’s been a while since we watched the Cubs together, so I grabbed some game food and came right over.”
I feel the smile slip over my lips. He thought to come here to watch the game with me.
Brody always was the sweetest guy I knew. Seems that hasn’t changed.
“Fun,” I reply. “I’ll grab some plates. We should sit on the floor.”
“Why?”
“It’s cooler down there.”
He blinks at me, considering, and then shrugs one shoulder and sets the pizza in the middle of the floor, sits, and opens the box.
“Thin crust pepperoni,” he says. “I hope this is still your favorite.”
“It is. I’ll be right back.” I hurry into the kitchen to get the plates, and take a moment to lean on the countertop, my hand over my chest, to catch my breath. If he keeps this up, I’ll fall in love with him, and that can only lead to disaster.