Page 10 of The Last Lavender Sister

It seemed a little bit like the topic was a stressful one, so Brynn pivoted and tried to steal a peek at the cover of Aster’s book. “Can I ask what you’re reading?”

“Oh. No. I can’t say.” She held the book tight to her chest.

Brynn scoffed through her laughter at such a blatant rejection. “Why not? Top secret mission?”

“Yes,” Aster deadpanned. “That’s exactly the case. I’m highly important—if you couldn’t tell from my midday bench sitting in the middle of a sleepy town.”

Endearing. Different. This woman was something. “Well, now I know. Better let you get back to it.” She stood. “Take care, Aster. Hey, what’s your last name again?”

“Lavender.”

“Right. I remember now.” She paused, letting theAster Lavendercombination roll around. “What a great name. Is there a story there?”

“Oh yes.”

Brynn laughed again because Aster made no move to tell it. “Let me guess. If you tell me, you’ll have to kill me.”

“Hardly. Maybe one day.”

“You’ll kill me?” Brynn feigned surprise. Aster’s eyes went wide, and Brynn laughed harder. Oh, this was fun.Asterwas.

“No. I’m not the murdering type. Please don’t put that out there. My mother will have me on the phone in under an hour.”

“Okay, but only because you asked.”

“I meant maybe one day for the story. Not the homicide.”

“Well, now you’re dangling it like a carrot, which we’ve established most people around here like and want to borrow.” Brynn looked forward to more chats with Aster Lavender, woman of mystery. “I’ll have to find you on this bench again sometime.”

“Well, now that you know the location of my favorite bench, how can I, you know…Damn. I forgot the word.” There was that blush again.

“Escape?”

She exhaled. “Evade.”

“Well, you can’t. You owe me a story now, Aster Lavender. As you were.” As she walked away, she had a much more energetic spring in her step and a small smile upon her lips. It was one of the more distinctive conversations she’d had since coming to town, but also really enjoyable. What a character. When she found herself thinking back on the exchange hours later, she wondered if she might have herself a new friend.

Time would tell…

Chapter Two

Even though the family business hadn’t been for her, Aster couldn’t deny the welcoming effects of The Lavender House. The soft aromas of the many lavender and vanilla products could easily have overwhelmed, but didn’t. They said a gentle hello, enveloping the visitor in a palatable swirl of relaxing sensations. Somehow, her sisters, who dually managed the store, had made sure of that with product placement and the strategic layout. The two-story rustic log house was all exposed beams and dark woods, perfect for showcasing the equally natural lavender wares, from infused scarves to homemade soaps. The room was full, packed to the brim with all sorts of products to explore. The fact that the store was located just yards from the actual lavender farm was a huge selling bonus and got folks in the mood to fork over their cash even at premium prices. And they were premium. Authenticity sold well.

Aster was feeling more energetic than usual when she arrived at the store that day. She wasn’t sure why. Except maybe she was, and it was the silliest reason. Brynn Garrett and the conversation they’d had on the bench earlier that week had really affected her. Not in any crazy sense, but kinda like when you’re going about your day and remember you’re in the middle of a really good book and have it at home waiting for you to finish. That’s what Brynn’s arrival in town felt like to Aster, like there was something to look forward to now. They might never have another one-on-one conversation like the other day, and that would be okay.

But they might.

And she could admit to herself that it was a welcome prospect, a new friend to jazz up her less than exciting daily slog. She smiled at the memory of their back-and-forth. Even the embarrassing parts. Her shoulders had gone a little swirly when Brynn first sat down on the bench next to her. She’d lacked the ability to control them and hadn’t known that was possible.

“How does one person give another swirly shoulders?” she asked, feeling naive, as she lingered behind the cash register while her sister replaced the receipt roll.

Marigold squinted. “I’ve never heard of it. Swirly?”

“Swirly,” Aster said. “Affirmative.”

“Like a dance move?” Her sister kicked her hip against the counter and rolled her shoulders around with flair.

“Except you don’t actually move them. They just feel swirly.”

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