Advice from a Sunflower Read online

She’s trying to dig further under my skin, but her statement has the opposite effect. There’s only one way she would be able to sling an insult my way with such certainty, knowing it might dig deep enough for her level of manipulation.

  She’s read my books.

  As much as she wants to deny my existence, as much as she wishes I would stay away, it doesn’t matter anymore. Because the one person who I so desperately needed to hear my voice has read my inner thoughts and that was not a commitment she would make to a cause she didn’t care about.

  “Pancakes!” Ally’s voice shrieks from the doorway, her tired face lit up with a broad smile.

  Marnie gives Denise a warning look for her to drop it, then turns to give me the same.

  Denise doesn’t miss a beat, somehow managing to turn off the threatening monster she had been toward me and morph into a loving grandmother for the girls. They crowd her at the stove, excitedly offering their help.

  I politely dismiss myself back to bed and listen from the open bedroom door as they carry on with what is apparently a weekly occurrence, feeling more like an outsider than ever before. I realize the more time I spend in The Hollow, the harder it is for me to wrap my head around the idea that time hasn’t stood still here. Not in the way I initially thought it had.

  New traditions have been created, lives have been lived and while I love what I’ve built for myself back home, I can’t shake the feeling that maybe I should have been here all along.

  ***

  “Hey, babe, it’s Nat. Can you answer your damn phone already? I have news to share, and I miss your peppy little voice. If you don’t call me back in the next twenty-four hours, I’m taking the first flight I can find to hick-town to rescue you. Love you, bitch. Bye.”

  Natalie’s most recent voicemail plays through the speakers of my car, offering a sense of familiarity that the streets I’m currently driving through are lacking. Today is Denise’s wedding and I’ve been sent to pick up the centerpieces and bouquets for the bridal party. Under normal circumstances, in a normal place, the florist would deliver the flowers themselves. But this is The Hollow and nothing about this place is normal.

  For most of my life, the flower shop was owned by an elderly couple who barely made enough to keep the place open. Their delivery van broke down when I was still in high school and apparently hasn't been replaced yet. I’m not mad about it, though. I’m just happy to have gotten out from under the same roof as Denise, if only for a few fleeting moments.

  I don’t bother calling Natalie back before I step out of the car and make my way to the entrance. It’s an old building that’s been around since the town was built. Thick green ivy reaches across the front, almost completely covering the worn red brick and black shutters that decorate it. The building has always housed a flower shop and not much has been updated since they opened.

  The bell rings above my head as I open the door, signaling my arrival to whoever is working the counter today. When I step further inside, I realize the storefront is completely empty. When I left, Mr. and Mrs. Bishop still owned and operated the place despite their declining health. I walk around, admiring every little trinket and flower that litters the messy space as I wait for someone to realize I’m here. Maybe they hadn’t heard the door.

  I pull my phone out to send Natalie a quick update just as someone comes rushing from the back, her cheeks flushed and hair in disarray. Her familiar downturned nose is stuck in the air the moment she sees it’s me, thin lips pulled into a straight line.

  Emma.

  Of course.

  “Oh, it’s you,” she greets unapologetically, wiping her hands against the apron tied around her waist.

  “Hi, Emma. I’m just here to pick up the arrangements for Denise’s wedding.”

  My tone is light and airy; nonthreatening. She has no reason to hate me, especially since we've recently spent a small fortune on overpriced flowers that will most likely be paying her bills this month if my suspicions are correct and she runs the shop now. She still nods wordlessly, walking straight toward the cooler without another glance in my direction.

  I clear my throat, deafened by the awkward silence. "So, do the Bishops still own this place? I was looking forward to seeing them.” A smile pulls at my lips with the thought of the ornery old woman and her complacent husband. They were some of my favorite customers when I worked at the diner, always slipping me extra tips and offering conversation when everyone else turned their noses up at me.

  Emma carefully gathers a few arrangements and steps out of the cooler, placing them into a box beside me. “They passed away a couple of years ago,” she explains without emotion, turning back into the cooler.

  “Oh,” I say, my mouth still forming around the word as I take an inventory of the things she’s grabbing.

  I was told there would only be ten small arrangements and four bouquets—one each for Denise, Marnie, and two of Denise’s friends. It was made clear that I was to have nothing to do with the wedding party. Denise’s hatred toward me has only made being back here that much harder and disrupted whatever dysfunctional balance she and Marnie had going before I came. She wants Marnie to pick a side and prove they don't need me, but Marnie refuses. There are clues though—buried deep within the insults thrown my way—that my mother's distaste toward me stems from her own hurt over my leaving. I think a huge part of her believed I'd never actually do it all those years ago. When I stayed away, it only hurt her that much more. I’m still unsure of what to do with that newfound discovery, so I take the abuse and allow her to have her day, just like I always have.

  Emma piles five random vases into the box before going back to the cooler.

  “Um, I’m sorry, there must be some sort of misunderstanding. I’m only supposed to be picking up the wedding arrangements today.”

  She stops, glancing at a piece of paper tacked to the wall before shaking her head. “No, all of these are for Denise and Tim.”

  “Okay. But I was only picking up my mother's order. I thought everyone was expected to pick up their own when I called.”

  I gesture around us at the various arrangements she just pulled out. Who gifted flowers for a wedding, anyway?

  “No, I was told someone would be sent to pick them all up,” she explains, a smirk pulling at her nonexistent lips when she looks outside and sees the tiny car I’m driving.

  “Have you ever thought about offering delivery services to your customers again?” I half-joke, trying to figure out how I’m going to fit everything in one trip.

  I’ll be stuck driving back and forth through town all day at the rate she’s pulling flowers out.

  “No, why would I do that? No one else minds picking them up.” Her tone is defensive. She still speaks to me as if it's the most irritating task she’s ever had to complete.

  I grab two boxes and head outside, struggling to walk through the rocky parking lot in heels just as a newer pickup truck pulls in, a pale brooding face glowing from behind the steering wheel. He backs into the spot beside me and swings his door open into me. I nearly roll my ankle trying to avoid him.

  Eli doesn't bother greeting me before he's grabbing at one of the boxes in my hands and steadying me before I fall. “Did you order all these yourself?”

  I shake my head, hitting the button on the key fob to open the trunk before practically throwing the box of arrangements inside. “I’ve somehow inherited delivery duty.”

  His brows knit together in confusion, eyes sliding over to the shop window where Emma had been standing before she quickly ducked out of sight. A sigh passes through his red lips and I hate myself for noticing.

  “Let me take them. She must have misunderstood. Marnie sent me here to pick everything up.”

  I’m not entirely sure where things left off with Eli and Emma. Marnie never bothered to update me on the putrid pair, avoiding the subject of him altogether after the argument we had the night before I left for Cornell.

  I knew they got married shortly after hi
gh school, shattering my inexperienced heart into tiny little pieces, but that was the last I’d heard in a while. It’s clear now that they aren’t together anymore, considering the snarl that the she-devil released when he entered her property with me in tow, questioning why she was trying to dump everything onto me.

  “How was I supposed to know? It’s her mother,” Emma whines, her voice suddenly raising three octaves around her high school sweetheart. It doesn’t appear to have the same charming effect on him as it did before.

  “Just get everything ready and I’ll start loading them into my truck,” he relents with an eye roll, grabbing two more large boxes and heaving them over his shoulders effortlessly.

  I scramble to open the door for him, following behind with the box of vases I initially came for.

  “How long are you here for?” he asks once we were back outside, carefully setting the boxes down into his truck bed before leaning against it, ankles crossed.

  “Not sure.” I slam the trunk shut with a shrug. I'd like to get out sooner rather than later, but I'm not sure how long it'll take to convince Marnie she should come with me.

  He stares down at me, his face twisted in an expression I can't identify. I hesitate at the driver door, my eyes finding Emma back in the window, glaring.

  Eli pushes off my car and walks to his truck. “I'll have these at the gym before anyone else gets there.”

  “Okay,” is all I can get out before his door slams shut and the engine comes to life.

  I chance one last look at the shop and Emma shifts in the window, reminding me once again of her presence. I’m taken back to high school—to every time I made any effort toward connecting with my friend after she so forcefully drove herself between us.

  Well, there was nothing for her to worry about anymore. Eli's attitude toward me has reached glacial temperatures, and I'm still not sure what caused the icy change. With a dreadful sigh, I hop into my rental and head toward my mother's wedding.

  Chapter 15

  Lyla

  The wedding was as disastrous as you could expect one to be in The Hollow. The residents here as a whole aren’t typically the type to let an event go by without some drama involved, especially when it comes to Marnie and Denise. Instead of renting a catered hall, they’ve always opted for the high school gym to hold their weddings and funerals with a party held afterward at one of the local bars in the town’s center.

  “I’m not sure how you had the guts to do it,” one of my high school classmates, Katie, berates as I scoop spiked punch from the bowl into my cup.

  “I could never just leave my family and friends for so long. Your mom has been a handful for the rest of us, too. We could have used you to rein her in. Poor Marnie might as well have three kids to look after. Have you ever even met the girls before today?”

  I grab a second cup and continue scooping. I needed a lot of alcohol to get through this night. She finishes her condescension off with a light smile, as if we’re simply discussing the weather and she hasn’t just attacked my entire character. My entire family.

  I muster up a smirk of my own and place my hand on my hip, ready to deliver my blow when Marnie grabs my arm and whispers for help with the girls into my ear. I spared Katie one last look, letting her know the conversation isn’t over before we head back into the gym to wrangle the girls.

  I hate the smugness and confidence she wears as I walk away—another encounter that makes me feel as if the person I’ve been building up to be for the past seven years disappeared into dust the moment I entered these city limits.

  Marnie spends the entire time soaking in every ounce of attention she receives for Josh leaving her. Although, I can’t really blame her for that; old habits die hard, and all. But she doesn’t do it in the same selfish way she would have before. She stands closest to Denise, careful not to let too much spotlight fall onto her during our mother's big day. I’m proud of how she handles herself, always on the brink of a breakdown, but never letting it pull her under.

  Not in front of an audience, at least.

  The girls are still very much confused about what happened with their father and no one has the heart to explain it. Gabby asked where Josh was during dinner the day after I landed. Marnie's face fell in despair and she ran off to the bathroom before either of them could see the tears that were begging to burst through. I gave Gabby a sympathetic smile and changed the subject, praying she wouldn't push for an answer. I wanted to leave it up to Marnie to break the news more delicately, but that felt impossible as the days wore on and I still had no idea what really happened. Since then, they’ve avoided the subject altogether and Marnie hasn't bothered to bring it up again.

  "There you are," Tina drawls, pulling my attention from the girls playing with a rogue dodgeball they found under the bleachers. She yanks me into a tight hug and the smell of her perfume instantly fills my chest with warm, comforting liquid. One that I realize my own mother never ignites but Tina has always been able to pull forward.

  I felt guilty that the thought even crosses my mind. Here I am, at my mother's wedding—probably one of the happiest days of her life—and still unable to let go of our murky past.

  "I've been waiting for you to visit me at the diner. I know you've been busy with all this, so I'll give you a pass, but I still miss that beautiful face of yours. We made a nice display for all your books along the walls."

  She releases me from our hug but keeps one arm tightly wrapped around my side, as if she’s afraid I'll float away if she lets go.

  "Right. I'm sorry, Tina. It's been a whirlwind since I landed."

  "Don't apologize. I'm just happy you're here."

  "You might be the only one," I mumble quietly, my gaze landing on Eli across the room before they flit back to Tina's knowing stare.

  "Trust me, you've been missed around here more than you'll ever know." She pats my arm and leads us toward the doors to the gym, into the quiet hallway. "I've been following the news about you. We all have. You've made something pretty amazing out of nothing, haven't you?"

  I look down to hide the flush of my cheeks from her. I'll never know how to accept a compliment, especially a genuine one.

  "Thank you," is all I can manage to say before I glance into the gym and catch Emma wrapping her arms tightly around Eli. He makes no move to untangle himself from her gangly grip and I hate the wave of envy that crashes through me at the sight. I just saw them hours before and they weren't even close to being that friendly. What’s changed?

  "Don't get all twisted up over those two again. That ship sailed off long ago, and I'd bet my life it'll never be coming back to port," Tina whispers into my ear, noticing my shift in mood and now blatant gawking.

  I blame the strong punch for allowing me to ask her, "What happened?"

  It’s the first time I've shown any outward interest in Eli's life without waiting for someone else to bring it up.

  "Oh, you never heard the story?"

  I shake my head.

  She opens her mouth to speak but quickly stops, waving a hand between us. "I shouldn't gossip. You two used to be thick as thieves—I'm sure you'll be able to get a more accurate story out of him than I could ever tell. I will say though, it’s a sad one."

  My chest deflates. My eyes find Eli's, and this time they’re fixed right on me as Emma chats in his ear. We only hold each other's stare for a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity before Emma's hand snakes up his arm and she whispers something close to his ear, her lips slowly turning up into a sly smile. I can’t stand to watch any more, so I turn my back to them and face Tina head-on.

  "I doubt we'll be doing much talking while I'm here." I force a tight smile, and then finish off the punch that’s in my cup.

  Only once I promise to visit her before I head back home, Tina releases me from another tight embrace and leaves me alone to find Marnie. I've managed to down two more cups of punch before I find her and the wedding sputters to a slow end. Everyone agrees to meet at the bar
down the street, Marnie and me excluded. Instead, we hang back to clean up before heading back to our childhood home.

  "It's so weird that she's married," Marnie slurs, sad eyes hanging on a picture of her and Josh that still sits atop the mantle.

  I notice then that she's redone the shelf and added little knick-knacks all around the fireplace. When I still lived here, Denise never bothered to decorate. It just wasn't important to her. Unfortunately, I'd inherited that lack of design sense. The walls of my apartment back home are completely bare, save for a few bookshelves that held some of my favorite novels. Even my own books were kept tucked away in boxes on the floor, only taken out when I needed to gift them.

  Marnie makes the effort that neither of us bothered making. She can somehow get past her own bleak memories and still wants this house to feel like a home to her girls. I admire her for that.

  Just before I drunkenly announce how much I appreciate her, there's a loud knock on the front door. I'm pleasantly surprised when Marnie answers it and Eli’s face lights up the entire living room.

  Figuratively, of course. The face this version of him wears is often more of scowl than anything else. But his presence cheers the girls up, who come barreling down the stairs when they hear their mother say his name. I watch Marnie sigh in relief when he picks them both up and carries them to their room for bed.

  It takes about twenty minutes before they’re silent and when he makes his way back down the stairs, Marnie is already dozing off on the couch. I poke her side and gesture for her to join the girls, realizing too late that sending her away means I have to be alone with Eli.

  When the silence between us becomes unbearable, I stand from the couch and throw my thumb over my shoulder. "I should probably get to bed too."

  "What you saw tonight, with Emma, that wasn't what it seemed like."

  I'm thrown by the offhand comment, stunned in silence until I realize he's patiently waiting for an answer from me.

  "It didn't seem like anything out of the ordinary to me."