Page 75 of There's Pumpkin About You
“Those wildflowers only grow by his house. They’re nowhere near the barn.” And with that little nugget of information, he walks off with a smirk, leaving me speechless and wondering if my feelings are reciprocated by Gus Finch.
ChapterThirty-Four
GUS
“Gus! What a pleasant surprise.”
I walk into Flora and Flowers like a fish out of water. I’m not used to stepping foot in this store unless I have an order of pumpkins to deliver. I’m not really the flower-buying type. I used to always just try and find the nicest flowers I could for my mom when I was little; run around the acres of land that we own to find the perfect bunch.
Poppies grow wild near the cliff-face at the edge of our land. They were always my mother’s favorites. She said that despite their somber meaning and dark uses, she liked to believe that their beauty and distinct spark of color meant that they were just as alive as the rest of the world, even though they symbolized death.
I distinctly remember the first time I picked one for her, the smile that lit up her face like fireworks on the fourth of July. From then on, once a week, on the same day I gave her the first poppy, I would run and find the most perfect poppy I could.
When Wren smiled the first time I handed her wildflowers, I’d had this urge to give her a fresh set every day I saw her, but I refrained. But, when I saw her in the barn, a smile on her face and hope in her eyes, I wanted to try and make sure it stayed the best day for her.
Since then, when she brings my coffee—something she could have stopped doing the moment the barn and the harvest were over—she finds herself leaving with a new, rather rumpled set of yellow, purple and red wildflowers. The joy in her eyes as she walks back to her car with them makes me want to put a smile on her face every day and make sure it never dims. I would buy her a set of flowers whilst I’m here, but to me it lacks a personal touch.
“Morning, sir,” I say as I make it to the counter.
“Sir?” Nigel smiles. “How formal.”
“Despite what everyone says, I haven’t forgotten my manners.”
“Well, we’ve known each other long enough, lad. No need for such formalities.”
I look around the store, trying to see if there are any flowers which might be useful for Wren.
“Looking for something for a special party planner, perhaps?”
I scoff nervously. “No offense, Nigel, but there’s nothing beautiful enough for her here.”
“No offense taken, son. I feel the same way about my Simone. Everything in the world seems dim compared to her.”
“And yet nothing has seemed so bright, right?”
If he’s surprised by my rather chipper mood, he doesn’t show it, he only lets his usual smile widen further until I’m worried it’s going to stretch his aging skin. “Spoken like a man in love.”
I wouldn’t go that far. Would I?
I shrug it off, continuing to look around the store.
“What can I help you with if not flowers for a beloved?” Nigel asks eventually.
“I’m trying to see if you can help her out with the party she’s holding next week. It’s some kind of scary theme I think.”
“Nightmare Before Fall”, Nigel elaborates. “Wren told me about it last time she was here.”
“Yeah, that’s the one.”
“There are several options I can order in if you’d like—black-sprayed roses, maybe some delphinium and baby’s breath to even it out?”
Wren did say that she was going to keep it black and red, throwing in some orange with the pumpkins.
“Can you throw in some red roses, too?” I ask.
“Of course I can,” Nigel beams. “Anything for that girl.”
I like that she’s made friends here, people who can see the goodness in her as clearly as I can.
