With Love from London(55)

“Ah, yes,” I said, glancing at the clock on the bedside table. “It’s been a few hours.” I took her tiny, swaddled body into my arms and Valentina latched on to my breast as Frank and Bonnie tiptoed out of the room.

“Val,” I said when her belly was full and her eyes sleepy. “You have a favorite song. Now you need a favorite book. One day I’ll show you the pictures, but for now I’ll just say the words out loud.”

She cooed softly, as if in agreement.

“?‘In the great green room,’?” I began, then stopped.

“I forgot to tell you the title of the best story of all. Goodnight Moon.”

Val shifts in my arms, as if to hear me better. “?‘There was a telephone And a red balloon And a picture of…’?”

I knew all the words by heart, and soon Val would, too.

She was too young to know that the author who so beautifully chose the words for her story didn’t have the most beautiful life. I knew from reading her biography that she was unlucky in love, with a broken engagement, a disastrous affair, and a longer romance that ended at the time of her sudden and early death.

Hers was a tragic tale. I held Val tighter, determined to set my daughter on a path toward happiness, one that mirrored the very best stories. Hers would have a happy ending.





The Next Day



“How do you feel about carnations?” Liza asks, tapping a pen against her chin.

“Well,” I say, looking up from the computer screen at the bookstore. “I guess I’ve always thought that they’re kind of…sad?”

Liza nods. “Exactly. They have a bad reputation. But what if we changed that? What if we gave them a rebrand?”

“That might be a slightly ambitious goal for carnations, let alone our fledgling flower shop,” I say with a laugh. “But if you’re up for the task, then why not?”

Liza shrugs, turning back to her laptop screen where she’s perched in the window seat at the front of the store. She arrived early this morning to take an inventory of the space and make a list of the various items we’d need for our new botanical endeavors: potted plants and succulents (which are all the rage right now, she says), large containers to hold cut flowers, a greeting card rack (smart idea), and a few small tables for novelty gifts and sundries.

“Look,” she says, shifting her screen so I can see. “With the empty shelves in the storeroom and those tables we aren’t using, we should only have to buy a few things before we’re ready to roll.”

I smile. “That makes me happy.”

I tell her about Nick’s text, and that I still haven’t replied.

She shakes her head. “I’ve heard that line before. Don’t take the bait.”

“I didn’t.” Though I admit I did scroll through our wedding photos on my phone. Damn, did he look good in a tux.

“But you’re thinking about it. I can see the look in your eyes.”

Millie pokes her head in on our conversation before I have a chance to respond. “See what look in your eyes?”

“Val’s ex texted her,” Liza explains. “He wants her back.”

Millie frowns. “And you’ll have none of that! Tell that rotten man to piss off.”

“Don’t worry,” I say with a laugh. “I have no intention of rekindling anything with him.”

“I would think not,” Millie adds.

The bells on the door jingle again as the FedEx man arrives with two boxes. It’s Fernando this time, and by the look on Millie’s face, she’s obviously elated—and tongue-tied.

“Hello,” she says.

“Hello,” he replies.

They’re like a pair of love-struck teenagers, and Liza and I are their peanut gallery.

“I thought you were…gone,” Millie says. “I mean, assigned to another route.”

“I was,” Fernando says, taking a step closer. “But I asked to be put back on this one. I really missed…my customers.”

“Oh,” Millie says, beaming. She’s obviously trying to keep her cool, but it’s clear that her heart is doing a backflip.

Fernando sets the boxes on the counter beside Millie. She really is substantially taller, and he really is substantially younger, but somehow neither detail matters. I smile to myself. They might be the most awkward couple of all time, but perhaps also the most adorable.

“It’s always so nice to see you, Millie,” he says, smiling as he turns to the door.

“You too, Fernando,” she replies, her cheeks flushed.

When the door closes Liza gasps. “Millie, I’m telling you, he is smitten.”

“I agree,” I say. “Next time he comes in, you should slip him your phone number.”

“You girls are very sweet, but clearly out of your minds. For heaven’s sake, I’m old enough to be his mother!”

“Love is ageless,” Liza argues as Millie rolls her eyes.

“And also confusing,” I say after I glance at my phone and see a new text from Nick: “Val, can we talk? I love you. I miss you so much.”

I don’t respond. Instead, I ask Millie about my mother’s Cicero box, which Eric had told me about yesterday. “Ah, yes,” she says, peering underneath the counter. “The famous candy box. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it. She kept it right here, under the—”