Page 3 of A Bouquet of Dreams

His brow wrinkled. “I thought we’d agreed you planned to join up.”

“Nope.” Claire shook her head firmly. “I never agreed to that. You’ve just always hoped I’d follow in your military footsteps.”

He frowned. “It’s a good life.”

“Sure, if you choose it. You did. I don’t.”

His frown deepened. “So whatdoyou want to do after you graduate?”

College wasn’t an option. School had never been easy for Claire, and she was happy to leave academics behind. Dad had never pushed her to excel, which she had appreciated. “Just get your diploma,” he would tell her. “That’s all the army needs.” Joining the military was his constant drumbeat. Learn a trade, travel the world, enjoy excellent job security. And don’t forget duty to your country. That was probably his top reason to join the military. He was a patriot through and through.

“I want to have my own flower shop.”

His eyebrows shot up. His voice rose an octave. “Flowers?” No career choice could be farther from his. Her dad was an army mechanic. He worked on diesel engines. He could fix anything. It was why he was wanted at army bases all over the world. His face scrunched up. “Flowers? You want a lifetime of sticking flowers in a vase?”

Put that way, it sounded silly. But it wasn’t silly. It was so much more than arranging flowers in a vase. Flowers touched a person’s life in a deep and personal way. They marked life’s important milestones—from births to weddings to funerals, and everything in between. They could transform an environment like magic. Flowersweremagical. “Rose said that anyone who works with flowers is in the business of happiness.”

“Rose. You really think a lot of her, don’t you?”

“She’s fabulous. She’s taught us so much. She lets us help make arrangements. Not the whole thing, but she lets us start it. Jaime and Tessa and I are planning to have a shop together. Just yesterday, we told Rose that someday we want to buy the flower shop from her.”

“What did she have to say to that?”

“Rose said...” Claire paused and looked up at the ceiling. “Actually, she didn’t have an answer. She just told us to get back to work.”

He laughed. “Well, let’s get you to the finish line for high school.” He held up her report card, which wasn’t her best. “Then we’ll figure out what comes next.”

“Don’t you worry, Dad. I can handle what comes next.”

But what came next turned out to be adisaster.

Nana’s house sold quickly, and three months later, Nana died in her sleep. Claire had been staying at Rose’s—an arrangement her dad had cooked up before he left for Germany. He didn’t want her to be alone. On that hot August night when everything changed—and she meanteverything—she had hopped on the first bus that passed through.

Nine hours later, the only reason Claire got off the bus in Savannah, Georgia, was because the bus driver said it was the end of his route. Something about the reluctant way she left her seat must have tipped him off, because he swore under his breath. “You a runaway, ain’t ya?”

“Nope,” Claire said, clutching her backpack. “I’m not. I’m not running away.” She was runningtosomething. A new life. A fresh start. “And I’m over eighteen.” Just barely.

He gave her a suspicious look. “But you got no place to go?”

“Well, you see—”

The driver pointed to a tall steeple down the road. “You go to that church and ask for a lady named MaryBeth. That lady’s an angel. Tell her Hiram sent you. She’ll make sure you’re looked after.”

Claire didnotneed looking after. She just needed ... a little immediate help. Some food and a place to sleep. Just for tonight. She’d been in such a panic to leave that she didn’t even bring the wad of cash she kept hidden under the bed at Rose’s house. “Thanks,” she told him and started down the road to the church. At some point, she knew she would have to process the tumultuous events of the past twenty-four hours, to try and figure out how everything went so badly. Someday, but not today. For now, she wanted to live in the world of possibilities.

But she was hungry and tired after spending the night on the bus. The front door to the church was locked, so she walked around to the church office. A small dour woman sat in front of a computer at a desk and looked up when Claire opened the door to her office.

“I’m looking for MaryBeth.”

The woman pointed to the door. “She’s in the kitchen. Down the hall to your left.”

Claire went down the hall to her left, following a scent of baking bread that could’ve led her to the right place without directions. In the kitchen, she saw a handful of women at different spots atthe counter. It looked like they’d baked bread for communion, because now they were cutting the bread into tiny little squares, the way Claire’s nana used to do at the church in Sunrise. The women chatted companionably as they sliced and diced. Claire felt a sweep of longing for Rose’s Flower Shop. This was what it had been like for them—for her, Jaime, and Tessa. How could it all be over? All because of Rose’s charming yet deceptive nephew, Chris Reid.

Struggling to tamp down emotions, Claire’s eyes started swimming with tears, and she hunted through her backpack for a tissue.

A thickly accented Southern voice interrupted her moment of self-pity. “Sweet pea, can I help you?”

Claire’s head snapped up. Standing just a few feet away from her was a Betty White look-alike. A petite older woman who dressed with care: a crisp bright pink blouse over ironed white pants. Her face was pretty, with fine features and carefully applied makeup, sprayed hair, and big pearl earrings. Something about the kind, maternal look in her warm eyes made Claire know she’d found the right person. “If your name happens to be MaryBeth, then you sure can.”

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