Page 42 of Just Let Go

“It sounds so stupid when you say it.”

He casually put a hand on her new shelves. He gave them a shake, as if to test their sturdiness. “I don’t mean to make you feel stupid. I was just trying to get to know you a little.”

She wanted to ask him why, but something stopped her.

“Calvin, I think, is the reason I wanted to do this,” she said after a moment of silence.

“Calvin?”

“Calvin Doyle. You met him at dinner.”

“Calvin,” Grady repeated.

“He used to come in here every Friday afternoon, after work. He was a teacher, and I’d watch him pick out the perfect bouquet of yellow tulips every single time. He was very particular. Before leaving, he’d say to my mother, ‘Do you think she’ll like them?’ And my mother always smiled and said, ‘I think she’ll love them, Calvin. They’re perfect and beautiful, just like your Anne.’” Quinn stopped. Her mother had such kindness in her eyes, every time she sent Calvin out the door with a bouquet. She’d taken such good care of the people of Harbor Pointe. How, then, had she just... left?

“That’s the whole story?” Grady leaned against the shelves now.

“Sorry, no. I always pictured Mrs. Doyle getting that bouquet every Friday. Tulips were a wonderful choice, and my mother always made sure to have some in the cooler. She’d save them for Calvin. He was like a clock. One day, years later, I was walking home from school and I saw him with his bouquet of yellow tulips. He was standing over Anne’s grave, holding them and, I think, talking to her. All that time, he’d been getting flowers to put on her grave. To make sure she wasn’t forgotten.”

Grady didn’t move.

She felt suddenly self-conscious and regretted saying anything at all.

“I can see why you’d like it, I think.”

He could? She wouldn’t have imagined so. “We do all kinds of weddings and proposals and Valentine’s Day flowers, so we’re there for people’s celebrations—and I love that. But knowing that I have something that can bring a little bit of beauty to somebody’s worst day?” She shrugged. “I guess that’s why I always wanted to do this.”

His eyes held hers for seconds in which her heart thumped like a bass drum.

Why had she told him any of that? He was not someone to try to connect with!

He must’ve felt her discomfort, because he started walking again. Walking and picking up things he had no business touching.

She moved out from behind the counter just in time to snag a glass vase from Grady’s grasp. She gave it a slight tug, but he held firm, and the strength of her pull drew him closer—too close.

“Will you let go, please?”

He reached up and touched her forehead, swiping his finger along the length of it, just above her eyebrows. “Do you feel that?”

“What? You poking me in the head?” She swatted his hand away.

“That’s your serious line.” His mouth quirked upward in a lopsided smile.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re always so serious.” He touched her forehead again, this time rubbing in small circles as if to knead away something that wasn’t supposed to be there. “Don’t you feel that? Your forehead is always tight.”

She glared at him through his fingers. “Are you finished?”

He pulled his hand away and sighed. “Just trying to help.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“You need something.” He spun around and walked to the other side of the shop.

“Really? And what would that be?”

His laugh mocked her, but before she could ask for clarification, the front door swung open and Walker Jones strolled in.

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