The Resurrection of Wildflowers (Wildflower #2)(14)

“Miss you, too, Mommy.” She smiles into the phone. “Daddy says we can have pizza for dinner!”

“Mmm, that sounds yummy.” I unlock my car and set a box of my old candles in the back. I doubt they even have much smell to them at this point, but I didn’t want to leave them there. Silly, I know. I stopped making candles when I left town and felt this ache when I saw the box.

I’m not ready to go home yet, so I walk across the street. Georgia picked Mom up and took her to her house for dinner. I was invited, but bowed out to come to the store instead. Since I don’t have to hurry back to the house yet, I think a walk around our quaint downtown area will be nice.

“What are you going to have for dinner?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“I wish you could have pizza with us.”

“I know, baby.”

“When can I come visit Grandma?”

I press my lips together. “I don’t know.” Maybe I can finagle a way to bring my mom to her. I can’t have her coming here, risk Thayer seeing her, before I say something.

Though, with her blonde hair, it’s hard to tell that Caleb isn’t her father. At least from a distance. But I know. I see bits of Thayer in her every day. From the shape of her lips, to the curve of her cheeks, down to the look on her face she gets when she’s thinking about something.

But especially in her eyes.

The same warm, intelligent brown as his.

“Daddy says the pizza is here!” She jumps up, running with the phone in her hand. “I love you, Mommy!”

“Love you, too.” She ends the call, my screen returning to normal.

I walk down the street, taking in shops old and new. One beckons to me and I open the door, inhaling the scent of lavender and eucalyptus.

“Hang on, I’ll be right there!” A cheery voice calls.

I pick up a homemade bar of soap, giving it a sniff.

The sound of swooshing fabric has me looking up just as a tall woman, probably in her late thirties or early forties, rounds the corner of the table. Her hair is a wild mass of dark curls, and she’s wearing fitted bell bottom jeans with a plain white t-shirt. Bracelets adorn her wrists, jangling as she moves.

“Hi.” She looks me over. “I haven’t seen you here before.”

Gotta love small towns—if people don’t recognize you, they’re quick to call you out on it.

“I lived here as a teenager. I’m back taking care of my mom. She owns A Checkered Past Antiques.”

“Oh.” Her smile falters a bit. “Allison is such a lovely woman. It’s such a shame about the cancer.”

“Yeah.” I lower my head, picking up a glass jar of bath salts with lavender in it. “Your shop is lovely.”

“Oh, thank you!” Her energy returns, lighting up with excitement. “It’s been a dream come true owning my own shop.”

“What would you recommend I get?” I motion to the table in front which seems to be a variety of all sorts of bath products.

“If you enjoy bubble baths, definitely this and this.” She grabs two items and holds them out to me, one is the salts but this one says it’s orange scented. The other is a bar of some sort. “This one is shampoo.” She points to the weirdly shaped soap. “It looks strange, I know, but it does wonders for your hair.”

Looking at how beautiful and full her hair is, I have to believe her.

“All right. I’ll take both then.”

“Great!” She smiles and takes them over to the register. “Feel free to look around some more if you want. I didn’t mean to ambush you.”

“It’s okay.” I pick up a jar of lotion in the same orange scent. “I’ll take this too.” I place it by the register and she rings me up. I slide my card onto the counter while she wraps everything in brown paper, placing it in a bag. She swipes my card and puts the receipt in the bag.

“I hope you’ll be back. I’m Jen by the way.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” I take the bag from her. “I’m Salem.”

“Wow, that’s a different name. Unique. I like it.”

“Thanks. I’m sure I’ll be back in.”

Letting myself out, I walk around a little longer before going into the local Italian eatery. The town is so small that there’s no such thing as waiting for a table.

The hostess sits me at a table in the corner. It’s small, only room for two, with a small candle lit on the table.

She sets the menu on the table and I offer a mumbled, “Thanks.”

Going out to eat by myself was something I started making myself do during the divorce. I’d always had my mom, or sister, Lauren, Caleb, and even Thayer to do things with and I knew it was important for me to get comfortable doing certain things on my own. So, I’d take myself out to eat, or go to the movies, anything that I’d always felt self-conscious about doing alone.

And I’ve come to enjoy it—these pockets of time that are only for me.

I place my order and the waitress returns a few minutes later with a glass of wine and bread with dipping oil. My stomach rumbles at the smell of the bread. Tearing off a chunk, I dunk it in the oil and take a bite.

“Is this seat taken?”

I cough, choking on the bread.