Page 28 of Late Bloomer
I throw my hands up in defeat. “I wouldn’t have a clue where to start.”
“I could help.”
Diksha and I both whip our heads over to look at Opal. Her shoulders curl forward as she worries her bottom lip between her teeth, eyes wide with a spark of excitement.
“If you want, I mean. No pressure. I don’t want to, uh, insertmyself where I’m not—” She waves her hand as she searches for a word. “Wanted,” she says at last, the syllables dancing on a defeated sigh.
“Say more,” Diksha commands, fixing her with a skeptical squint.
“Please don’t,” I counter. I don’t have room in my brain for more.
Opal smiles a bit. “I’m an artist,” she explains to Diksha, that damn smile growing. “I work in tons of mediums. I’m sure I could figure out how to wrangle some flowers into a structure. I honestly think it could be amazing. The possibilities are endless, especially with flowers like this to work with,” she says, waving toward the open barn door, my flowers spreading across the horizon. “I actually did some pretty intricate installation pieces a few years ago that took a lot of building and structuring, so this could be really cool. I think playing with height would be super eye-catching? What do you think?”
It takes me a moment to realize she’s directed that question at me.
“About what?” I say, a tinge of exasperation in my voice. Opal’s brain seems to whirl ideas around and out of her mouth at one hundred miles an hour, while I process at a more glacial pace.
“Doing the damn thing!” she says, spreading her arms wide. She’s backlit by sunshine streaming through the doors, but somehow her smile is the brightest. I grimace.
“It sounds like an incredibly expensive investment with virtually zero percent chance of reward when I already have to pay you three hundred thousand dollars,” I say, rubbing my temples.
The deranged woman actually laughs. “Are you always such a pessimist?”
“Yes. It makes disappointmentmucheasier to take.”
Opal has the audacity to tut. “What part will be expensive, exactly?”
“Um, let’s see. You want to build a giant monument which will require… I don’t know, wood? Netting? Nails? General building bullshit? Then you want me to set most of myproduct, my literal source of income, aside during peak selling season to cover said statue thing? That doesn’t sound expensive to you?”
“I’m sure we could figure out a way to do it on the cheap,” she says, tapping her full lips with her finger as she slowly turns in a circle. I shoot a sideways glance at Diksha, hoping we’re sharing the same thought about this ridiculous idea, but she’s staring at Opal with steady interest.
After a moment, Opal snaps her fingers and twirls back to face me. “Why don’t we collect a smaller portion with each, er, cutting… session? Thing? And use any that don’t sell too. That way we can build up a stock?”
Hopefulness is a barbed seed in the center of my chest, aching as it puts down roots. I shake my head, ripping out the small sprout and tossing it away. “It’s pointless. Even with that, I wouldn’t be much help in making it, and it sounds like too big of a project for one person to take on.”
“You do have two months to work on it,” Diksha says, as if this isn’t a monumental task that would require way more time than that.
Opal apparently has an answer for everything. “My sisters are artists!” she all but squeals. “I’m sure I could get them to come down and help. Bring supplies they already have too. It’s amazing what you can do with scrap materials.”
“There’s more of you?” I splutter out, eyes bulging.
“Two more,” Opal says with a wave. “They’re brilliant. You’ll love them. I’ll text them right now.”
My brain is short-circuiting just thinking about the force of three Opal-esque women running around my farm. I march across the space, gripping Opal’s wrist as her thumbs dart across her phone.
I meant for the touch to stop the spiraling situation, pause the runaway sensations zipping through my body. Instead, it focuses all of them, a jolt shooting from where I touch Opal, up my arm and through my chest, radiating out to every inch of my body. I quickly pull my hand away.
“I can’t afford to pay you for labor when the winnings would end up going toward buying you out anyway.” I can feel Diksha’s eyes on me, but I ignore the look.
“You don’t have to pay us. We love doing stuff like this. And you can use the earnings how you need to. If it goes toward buying me out, great. If you need to put it toward something different to help the farm, I get that too.”
My head jerks back like she slapped me. Honestly, that would probably be easier to process than what she said. “Why would you do that?”
Opal gives me a one-shoulder shrug. “Because I thought it would be helpful?”
“But why would you…helpme?” I ask, voice rising in confusion. “Why wouldn’t you want the money for yourself as soon as possible?”
That shrug again, Opal tilting her head as she looks at me like I’m some complex riddle she can’t solve. “Because it’s the kind thing to do?”
