On Monday morning, Laney sees her daughters off on the school bus and heads out for a walk. She’s two blocks from home when a dark gray Cadillac Escalade pulls up beside her. The passenger window rolls down and Sylvia calls out, “Hey there, hon. I’ve been trying to reach you. Do you have the list of flowers we need to order for the Coleman wedding this weekend?”
Laney steps over to the open window. “I finished it this morning. I can text it to you when I get home.”
Sylvia presses her ruby-red lips thin. “I need it now. I’m leaving soon for Charlottesville. My daughter and her husband are going to a medical conference in Arizona, and I am taking care of the grandchildren. I’d like to place the order before I go.”
Irritation crawls across Laney’s skin. Sylvia’s domineering personality is growing tiresome. Laney does all the work while Sylvia waddles around barking orders. If she didn’t enjoy floral design so much, she would have quit a long time ago. “Why don’t I just place the order for you?”
“Fine.” Sylvia retrieves her purse from the passenger seat and digs around for her phone. She taps a manicured fingernail on the screen, and seconds later, Laney’s phone pings in the pocket of her running shorts. “I sent you the contact information, including the address, for the wholesale florist in Hope Springs. I won’t be home from Charlottesville until noon on Saturday. You’ll need to pick the flowers up early that morning and drive them to Love-Struck.”
Laney’s irritation morphs into anger. “Seriously, Sylvia? This is the biggest wedding we’ve ever done, and you’re expecting me to do all the work. I can handle it this time. But I have a family to take care of, and my girls are busy on the weekends. You need to give me more advance notice the next time you go out of town.”
“Watch your tone, missy. I can always find another helper if you aren’t up for the job.” Sylvia rolls up the window and speeds away.
Laney stares with slacken jaw at the Escalade’s retreating taillights. A helper? Is that all I am to you, Sylvia?
Laney’s blood reaches its boiling point. She’s tired of everyone bullying her. She’s not a runner, but today she needs to blow off steam. She jogs for three miles without stopping to catch her breath, and by the time she reaches the center of town, she’s calmed down.
Laney strolls down Magnolia Avenue, pausing to window-shop at her favorite boutiques. She’s entering Ruthie’s Diner for her morning cup of joe when she notices a sign in the store's window next door, announcing it available For Sale or Lease.
At the back counter, Ruthie fills a to-go cup with black coffee and hands it to Laney. “Would you like a muffin to go with that? Cranberry orange is the flavor du jour.”
“That sounds delicious. May I please have it in a bag to take home?” Laney slides her credit card across the counter. “I noticed the building next door is available. What business was there before? Was it a dry cleaners or one of those mail room services?”
“Alterations,” Ruthie says as she processes the credit card charge. “A Korean woman, Min Yung, owned the business. And good riddance to her. She came in here for lunch nearly every single day. And she always found something to complain about.”
Ruthie’s disgruntled tone surprises Laney. The diner owner is always pleasant and never has a bad word to say about anyone. She looks more closely at Ruthie. Behind her pink-framed reading glasses, her eyes are swollen as though she’s been crying.
“Are you okay, Ruthie? You don’t seem like yourself.”
Ruthie waves away her concern. “I’m fine. I’ve just got some stuff on my mind. Are you doing the flowers for the wedding this weekend? I understand it’s gonna be a humdinger.”
Laney chuckles. “Humdinger is right. I’m worried we’ve bitten off more than we can chew,” she says and leaves the diner with her coffee and muffin bag.
She pauses on the sidewalk out front to admire the building next door. The brick facade is painted taupe and a green awning covers the large windows on either side of the black front door. Moving closer to the building, she peeks in the window at the barren space inside—hardwood floors, drab walls, and a utilitarian checkout counter.
To her knowledge, there has never been a florist in Lovely. Even Delilah’s Delights, the gourmet grocery on the side of the building opposite the diner, doesn’t sell flowers. With a little fixing up, the storefront would be an ideal spot for a floral shop.
The sign says For Sale or Lease by Owner. She certainly can’t afford to buy the building, but she might be able to lease the storefront. Laney snaps a pic of the contact information before heading home. She walks slowly, sipping her coffee as she considers the possibilities. Why is she working for Sylvia when she’s capable of doing it all herself?
At home, she sits down at her small desk in the kitchen and places the flower order to the wholesale florist in Hope Springs for a Saturday morning pickup. She opens her laptop and spends hours reading best practices for starting your own business and shopping for display racks, refrigerator equipment, and worktables. She’s so engrossed in her research, she doesn’t hear Hugh enter the house at lunchtime.
He comes to stand behind her, looming over her as he stares at her computer. “I don’t have much time, Laney. Can you fix my lunch? You can shop online later.”
Laney slams her laptop shut and jumps to her feet. “I wasn’t shopping. I was paying bills, and I lost track of time.”
He takes in her exercise clothes and messy ponytail. “Why haven’t you showered yet today?”
“I told you, I got sidetracked.” She brushes past him on the way to the refrigerator. “I have some leftover rotisserie chicken. Do you want a salad?”
“Never mind. You go up and shower. You smell like rotten eggs. I’ll make a sandwich and take it back to the office.”
Laney glares at him. “You should try sweating sometime. If you exercised regularly, you could lose that spare tire around your stomach,” she says, and hurries upstairs to her room.
Closing and locking the door, she sits down on the edge of the bed with her cell phone. Taking a deep breath, she punches in the number for the building’s owner. She’s surprised when a woman answers.
“Hello, this is Laney Love calling about the storefront for lease on Magnolia Avenue.”
“Nice to hear from you, Laney. I’m Diana Gladstone. Are you interested in a tour?”
“Yes, please! Can I see it today?”
Diana chuckles. “I admire your enthusiasm. Unfortunately, I’m out of town and won’t be back until midweek. Would late afternoon on Wednesday work? Say around five o’clock?”
“Wednesday at five is perfect. I’ll see you then.”
Laney falls back on the bed and stares up at the ceiling. The thought of starting her own business scares her to death. But it might be the answer to her prayers. Having financial independence is the first step toward divorcing her husband.
* * *
Laney is waiting on the sidewalk in front of the building when Diana Gladstone arrives. She appears younger in person than she sounded on the phone. She’s mid-sixtyish and attractive, with a slim figure, mahogany shoulder-length bob, and clear green eyes.
Laney holds her hand. “Nice to meet you, Diana. Our town is so small, I thought I’d met everyone. But you don’t look familiar.”
“Lovely is my second home,” Diana explains. “My primary residence is in Richmond. My husband recently passed away from a sudden heart attack. His career was commercial real estate. This is one of many properties I’m dealing with. The building is for sale if you’re interested.”
Laney shields her eyes from the sun as she lifts her gaze. “What’s upstairs?”
“A furnished apartment with a living room and kitchen combo on the second floor and two bedrooms on the third. My husband recently renovated the kitchen and baths. He was thinking of renting through Airbnb. Since the town has become a popular wedding destination, he thought parents of the brides and grooms might appreciate the larger space an apartment offers over a hotel room.”
“That makes sense. Is it available now on Airbnb?”
“Not yet. Honestly, I’d rather find a buyer for the building.”
“Have you had much interest?”
Diana shakes her head, the clean edges of her bob skimming her shoulders. “I’m surprised, considering how fast the town is growing.”
Laney tries to imagine living here. A two-bedroom apartment on Magnolia Avenue is a far cry from her spacious home on Willow Lane. The girls would have to share a bedroom and walk to the nearest bus stop. But Laney would have her freedom, and the three of them could live in peace.
“Shall we?” Diana says, holding the door open for Laney.
Laney enters the drab showroom. “Would you mind if I painted?”
“Mind? I would be grateful. The space could use sprucing up. What kind of business are you in?”
“I’m a floral designer. I do mostly weddings now, but I’m hoping to expand.”
A sad smile spreads across Diana’s lips. “My husband would approve. He was always bringing me flowers. He often complained there was nowhere in town to buy a quality bouquet.”
“He was right. We’re long overdue a florist.” Laney gestures at the swinging door behind the counter. “May I?”
“Of course,” Diana says and follows her into the back. “There’s a small office and a restroom and lots of open space for you to create fabulous flower arrangements.”
Laney sticks her head in the office and bathroom. “I would need to install a commercial grade sink and walk-in refrigeration. I understand these units are custom made and easily removable.”
“That wouldn’t be a problem. A plumber could tap into the existing water supply.”
“And what are the lease terms?”
“Five years,” Diana says and tells her the amount of the monthly rent.
Laney works hard to keep a straight face. The rent is more than she expected, but not out of the realm of possibility. “I’m just beginning the process of starting my business. I’ll have to get loan approval in order to purchase the equipment.”
“I understand.” Diana opens the back door to show Laney the alley. “As you can see, there’s ample room for you to park your car plus a delivery van.”
Laney hasn’t thought about a delivery van. Her Suburban will have to do for now.
Diana closes and locks the door. “There are many Loves in town. Which branch of the family do you belong to?” She says this with an air of nonchalance, but Laney knows she’s fishing for information. She wants to know why Laney needs a bank loan when she’s a member of the prosperous Love family.
“The Love-Struck Vineyard side of the family. Hugh is my husband.” Laney hesitates, deciding how much to say. But her intuition tells her she can trust Diana. “He would back me if I asked. But I’d rather do this venture on my own.”
Diana’s face softens. “Good for you. I hope you can make it work. I’ll let you know if anyone else expresses interest.”
Laney brightens. “Thank you! That would be great!” She circles the back room once more before returning to the showroom.
At the front door, Diana says, “Coincidentally, I may sell my home if you know anyone who might be interested. It’s a small farm just outside of town.”
“A farm? What do you grow?”
Diana laughs. “Mostly corn. My late husband was a hunter. We pay a farmer to harvest the field. The view is lovely, and there’s a small stream that runs through the property. I hate to leave the area, but I’m considering moving to Montana to be near my son and his family.”
“I can’t think of anyone off the top of my head. But I’ll keep it in mind. Thank you for your time, Diana. I’ll be in touch soon,” Laney says, waving over her shoulder as she hurries down the sidewalk.
Tingles of excitement flutter in her belly as she walks home. She’s taken the first step toward building a new life for herself and her girls.