“Got it.”
“Oh, let me show you the flowers! They’re in the dining room. I put them on the table since that room gets most of the light during the day.”
When we walked into the dining room, I was hit by the smell of tiger lilies. A large bouquet of fall blooms sat in the middle of the table. “Wow, I’m really impressed with the local florist.”
Greer smiled. “I told you they were beautiful. Mandy Lewis owns the floral shop in Boggy Creek. She’s from Boston but wanted to live in a smaller town, so she moved here and opened up the floral shop. We had one before her, but the owner passed away and her kids had long since moved out of the valley, and it sat empty for two years or so before Mandy bought it. She gets a lot of her flowers from the Boyer farm. They grow every kind of flower you can think of. Willow Tree Inn gets all their fresh flowers from the Boyers as well. Joanne and Mandy are big on buying local.”
“She was very pleasant on the phone. Told me she had an idea of what flowers you might like.”
Blushing, Greer glanced at the flowers again. “I tend to go in and buy bouquets from her a lot. I enjoy having fresh flowers around. The smell makes me really happy.”
I nodded and tucked that bit of information away for the future.
“Did you want me to make any lunch first?” she asked.
“Nope, I’ve got it all taken care of.”
She raised one brow in curiosity. “Really? Are we going somewhere for lunch?”
“You’re terrible with secrets, do you know that?”
Laughing, Greer replied, “I know, I’m sorry.”
“Come on, birthday girl, let’s head on out.”
Greer
As we walked to Hudson’s rented SUV, I couldn’t help but notice him staring over at the gristmill building. A small group of businessmen stood outside of it, along with the mayor.
“Who owns that building?” he asked.
We paused for a moment while Hudson looked up at the old structure that had recently been converted into a multipurpose building.
“Adaline Apthorp. She’s the mayor of Boggy Creek. Why?”
Adaline reached out and shook each of the gentlemen’s hands before turning and starting to walk toward us. She stopped when she saw me. With an awkward smile, she quickly turned and headed in the opposite direction.
“Okay, was it my imagination, or did she just avoid us?” Hudson asked.
I shrugged and started to walk down Maple Street—and stopped when I spotted Adaline’s car. That was weird.
“What’s wrong?” Hudson asked.
“That’s Adaline’s car. Maybe she remembered she needed to go somewhere else or forgot something.”
“Maybe.” Hudson placed his hand on my lower back, and we started walking again. I was praying he hadn’t heard the small intake of air I’d sucked in at the electric jolt that hit me when he touched me.
It wasn’t long before we fell into easy conversation about Boggy Creek. Hudson asked questions that I was more than happy to answer.
“How do you know so much about the valley?”
With a chuckle, I said, “Oh man, I remember sitting for hours when I was little and listening to my grandparents talk about it. They were both born here and grew up in Boggy Creek. They loved it so much and did a lot for the community. My grandmother was very big on preserving things. She was the driving force behind registering a number of buildings on Main Street with the historical society. I’ve sorta stepped into her footsteps with that. I’ve been working to get my building registered, as well as a few of the houses that are right off Main Street. There are two on Chestnut Street, four on Maple, and a few more that haven’t been torn down yet around town.”
“It sounds like you’re passionate about it.”
“I am, for sure. I love history, if you couldn’t tell, and the thought of seeing some of our most treasured landmarks torn down just makes me feel sick.”
Hudson looked like he was thinking hard about something.
“What about you?” I asked.
He quickly looked at me and then back at the road. “I find what you’re doing admirable. I think it’s important to preserve history for those who come after us. Sad as that sounds. I feel like we’re losing some of our small towns.”
“We are, for sure. Do you know the old bridge across the Pemigewasset River that you drive over to get onto Low Street?”
“Yes, I remember driving over it when I was little with my folks.”
“The city wanted to tear it down so they could build a double bridge in its place, even though it ran through private property owned by one of the founding families of Boggy Creek. Their ancestors actually built that bridge in order to reach Main Street when it flooded. Anyway, the city was trying to bully the landowners, and my grandmother wasn’t having that. So she did what she needed to do. She bought the property and the bridge and told the city to go shove it up their asses when they threatened eminent domain.”