Page 19 of The Floral Arrangement

But I could at least try to convince her not to get rid of the flowers. If she really was allergic to them, she could just take some damn antihistamines.

CHAPTEREIGHT

ROZ

I satat Jim’s old oak desk, which was covered in scratches and faint ink stains, scrolling through the business plan I’d prepared on my laptop. An email notification from Mom popped up titledLesbian Speed Dating in Poughkeepsie!I rolled my eyes, and focused back on the document in front of me.

This better go well.Thank god for Fred, the only person in my network who’d shown any interest after dozens of rejections from banks and private lenders. It wasn’t ideal that he’d only consider coming on board as an investor—a bank loan would have been much more straightforward—but I needed the money one way or another. ’The farm needed far more money than my savings could provide. A lot of the farm machinery was old, to the point where it needed to be replaced rather than repaired, and other unexpected issues kept cropping up.Like crashing an ancient tractor into my extremely expensive car.I winced. The insurance company had refused to cover the damage. I wouldn’t be able to afford to replace my car anytime soon, even if Fred agreed to go ahead with the investment. And if he didn’t… I closed my eyes. I didn’t know what I would do. But it would probably end in bankruptcy.

The doorbell sounded, and I jumped up, my eyes darting to the wooden clock on the wall. My pulse quickened. That must be Fred, although he was fifteen minutes early.I took a deep breath, pulled on my suit jacket, and walked down the hall. I opened the door, a large smile plastered on my face.

My smile vanished. It was Mom. She was holding a pie and a bag of groceries and beaming at me. My hand tightened around the door handle.

“Mom? What are you doing here?”

Mom lifted up the pie. “I thought I’d just pop by to check you’re settling in okay and drop off some food to make sure you’re eating.”

“Thanks, Mom. You know, I do have the farm café literally fifty feet from my house and I can look after myself—I managed to eat for the last twenty years without you. But I appreciate the thought.” I reached out for the pie and bag of groceries. “I’ve got a business meeting in ten minutes, so I’m afraid I don’t have time to talk, but thanks for dropping by.”

Mom pulled the grocery bag away from me. “If you’re busy, I can put this all away for you. Don’t worry, I won’t interrupt your meeting.”

“Okay, Mom, just make yourself at home,” I muttered under my breath as she pushed past me into the hallway. Well, I did want to pitch the farm to Fred as a family farm. Having Mom around might help, as long as she didn’t hijack the meeting or start asking Fred if he knew any single queer women of childbearing age I could date.

Mom entered the spacious kitchen with its expansive wooden countertops, blue cabinets and white farmhouse sink. She placed the bag of groceries on the island.

“Did you get my email about speed dating?” Mom pulled a can of tomatoes from the bag.

I did my best to hold back an exasperated sigh. “Yes, thanks.”

“Apparently, tickets are selling fast. I know you’re seeing someone, but perhaps you should buy a ticket just in case things don’t work out with her.” Her eyes lit up. “Oh, and I also have another possibility waiting in the wings.” She looked at me expectantly, clearly waiting for me to ask for details.

“Uh-huh?”

“Margie’s daughter.” Mom grinned, a loaf of bread in hand.

“Holly? Is she queer?” I collected the yoghurt from the counter and popped it into the almost empty fridge.

“Well, I’m notone hundredpercent sure. But she does have short hair and always wears pants. Oh, and your dad often runs into her at Home Depot.”

I huffed, swinging the fridge door shut. Mom was really leaning into the lesbian stereotypes. I should probably have a talk to her about that, but now was not the time.

The doorbell rang. I glanced at my watch. Fred was right on time.

“Mom, that will be Fred. This meeting is really important, so I’ll just introduce you, and then you need to leave.” I took the pie from her and placed it in the pantry.

“Okay, sweetie,” Mom said, folding the grocery bag and leaving it on the counter. She followed me to the front door, smoothing her dress as she went.

A loud knock made me pick up my pace. Perhaps Fred thought the doorbell wasn’t working.

The knock sounded again, harder this time. I frowned. That wasn’t like Fred.

As I reached the door, I wiped my damp hands on my pants, plastered another welcoming smile on my face, and swung the door wide.

And froze.

What the hell?

Standing in front of me, cheeks flushed and eyes flashing, wearing blue pants with yellow flowers on them and a pink t-shirt, was Olivia. From Pryde.

---