Chapter 3

Maddie had just rung through the plant for her mom and pulled out the cash drawer to count it when she noticed the flower order chit by the till. She picked it up. Luke Anderson, 12 red roses, no greens. The last bit was underlined so she wouldn’t miss it.

Why would Luke want a dozen red roses? Was he wooing someone too? And why would he skip the foliage?

As she set to work prepping the order, she thought of the earnest, sensitive man she’d become acquainted with over the past few years—first at a fundraiser she’d organized that he’d both donated to and volunteered for, then at a few other events around town. The hand-drawn Christmas card he’d given her last week still sat on her dresser at home. She hadn’t known what to make of it at the time, and thought he might have been making some kind of gesture of his own. But as she tied the ribbon around the cellophane on the arrangement, she decided he must have just been being friendly. If a guy like Luke was buying a woman roses, it meant something real. Not like Justin’s fly-by-night romances. And somehow, the roses-only arrangement suited him perfectly.

The front door rattled and unlocked, and a few moments later, a petite ball of energy with short curly white hair bustled in, her long parka swishing and her cheeks rosy beneath her hand-knit beret.

“Pearl,” Maddie said in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“All finished for the night?” Pearl McPhee scanned the counter and shop. “I was hoping we could have a quick chat about the Valentine’s Fair plans.”

Maddie nodded. “Uh, yeah. Just give me a second to finish up this cash drop. Meet you at the back table?”

Pearl’s eyes twinkled. “I’ll make tea while I wait. Raspberry for you?”

“You know me so well.”

Maddie finished her last few tasks with rushed precision, wondering if she should text her friend Priya Novak to check in on her mom. It had been several hours since Rose’s friend Violet Butler—Noel’s mother—had left Rose for the day. She’d reported that Rose had been having a good day, but that could change without notice. However, even though Priya only lived a few houses down from theirs and worked from home, she was probably already cooking supper for her family. She knew Priya wouldn’t mind running the errand but hated to bother her if it wasn’t necessary. Hopefully, Pearl only wanted to review logistics. Maddie glanced at the clock again and decided she could risk the extra ten minutes.

She found Pearl at the back, arranging two mismatched mugs on the small tea and coffee station counter while she waited for the water in the electric kettle to boil. Maddie sat at the table, which held a small pot of honey and a red binder marked Valentine’s Fair, and watched Pearl’s nimble hands sort through the basket of tea bags, tear them open, and drop them in the mugs, mesmerized. Pearl had a way of making even the most mundane things seem magical. The woman had been running this shop for nearly forty years—longer than Maddie had been alive—and she’d built a reputation for herself as a kind of fairy godmother to generations of Peace Crossing royalty and riffraff alike. If anyone could make the Valentine’s Fair a success, it was her.

“So,” Pearl began, pouring steaming water over the bags. “How did the Toews-Fletcher consult go? Did you manage to rein in the indecision?”

Maddie winced. “We went through six catalogues. Only twenty-five to go.”

“Ah, she’ll get there eventually.” Pearl smiled, pushing a mug and a teaspoon toward Maddie. “They always do.”

Maddie scooped honey into her tea and stirred, breathing in the fruity aroma. “Delanie’s just nervous. She wants everything to be perfect. Just like every other bride.”

“Well, she’s in good hands with you.”

Maddie’s face warmed, and she took a sip of her tea to hide her embarrassment.

Pearl sank into the chair, sighed, and clasped her cup between both palms. She looked tired in a way Maddie could only remember seeing once before—the day Pearl’s husband had passed, nearly fifteen years back. Maddie wondered if she was projecting, or if Pearl’s twinkle was, for once, not quite enough to mask whatever was behind her eyes.

“Is everything okay?” Maddie asked. “You look . . . I don’t know. Not yourself.”

Pearl blinked rapidly and waved the comment away. “I’m just feeling my age, my dear. It happens to the best of us. Even you, one day, believe it or not.”

Maddie tried to smile, but a tightness constricted her chest. “If you ever want to take more time off, or, you know, a vacation, Hannah and I can handle things. We’ve done it before.”

Pearl shook her head, light glinting from her snow-white hair. “No, no. I like to keep busy. My garden slows down in winter and I get antsy.” She looked at Maddie, and something imperceptible seemed to settle into place. “But there is something I need to discuss with you. Something I should have brought up sooner, but . . .” She trailed off, stirring her tea with forceful little circles.

Maddie set down her own cup, a pit growing in her stomach. “What’s up?”

Pearl pressed her lips together, setting her spoon on a napkin with deliberate care before looking up at Maddie. “I’ve decided. This will be my last Valentine’s Fair.”

Maddie blinked. “Your last? You mean—you’re retiring?”

Pearl nodded. “I turned seventy last month. My Arthur would give me a good scolding if he saw me still lifting delivery boxes and fussing with invoices at my age.” Her tone was light, but her eyes were serious. “I’ve given this a lot of thought. I want to spend more time with my sisters while I still can. I want to see my grandkids more. I want to try that pottery class at the art centre.” Her smile was wistful. “I want the shop to go to someone who loves it as much as I do.”

Maddie set down her tea, stunned. She tried to picture the shop without Pearl in it, but the image wouldn’t materialize. “Wow. I don’t know what to say. Are you . . . are you sure about this?”

Pearl smiled, her hands folded around the mug. “I’ve never been more sure of anything, dear. Forty years is a good run. But . . .” She hesitated, her gaze searching Maddie’s. “I was hoping you’d consider taking over.”

Maddie blinked, processing this new bombshell. She cleared her throat, playing for time. “You want me to buy the shop?”

Pearl smiled again, soft and sure. “You run it already. Half the customers think you own it. I’d rather leave it in your hands than anyone else’s.”

Maddie’s brain scrambled, doing the math before her heart could interfere. “Pearl, I can’t afford—”

“We can work out something fair. I don’t need to get rich. I need to know my life’s work is in good hands.” Pearl’s voice went wobbly, then steadied. “I won’t ask you to answer tonight. I know you have your mom to think about. But if you want it, it’s yours. If not, I’ll put it up for sale. I’ll give you a couple weeks to think about it. Promise me you will?”

Maddie nodded mutely, not trusting her voice. Owning Pearl’s Petals would be a dream come true. But where on earth would she get the money?

“Now,” Pearl said, opening the binder with her familiar businesslike tone, “let’s talk about the Fair.”

Maddie tried to focus as Pearl walked her through what still needed to be done to prepare for this year’s Fair, but her thoughts were like a shaken snow globe. Pearl was retiring? And she wanted Maddie to take over?

The minute the teapot was empty and the Valentine’s Fair logistics had been dissected down to the last kissing booth volunteer, Pearl bustled out the door. Maddie locked it behind her, then stood for a long while staring at the brushed steel handle, as if the answer to all her problems were etched somewhere in the pockmarks left by forty Canadian winters.

As she turned, the dim shop seemed to rearrange itself around her—every surface and every shelf packed with decades of history and haphazard treasures. It was a shop unlike any other in Peace Crossing, and it had an aura that couldn’t be faked. If she closed her eyes, she could almost hear the ghosts of old customers—the giggling flower girls, the summer brides, the stoic farmers buying apology bouquets for their wives. She imagined herself running this shop—truly running it and shaping it into her own vision. She pictured all the weddings and funerals and special moments she would get to be a part of.

She wanted it. She wanted it so much she could taste it.

But then came the inevitable storm front of reality, always colder and more persistent than anything Mother Nature could throw at her. The numbers didn’t work. She didn’t have the money for a down payment, let alone a full sale. She could barely keep up with the bills for her mom’s care, let alone house maintenance, and the last time she’d tried to get a line of credit, her application had been laughed out of the bank by a woman whose hair could only be described as “judgemental aubergine.” Even if Pearl offered her a family-and-friends rate, she’d need a miracle to make this work.

And if she did somehow scrape together the money, would she even have time to run the shop and look after her mother? Rose’s episodes were coming more often lately, and Maddie suspected her mother was hiding the worst of it out of pride or fear, or both. Maddie was already living on a knife’s edge trying to balance her two worlds. The idea of adding the pressures of business ownership to the mix made her chest twist with something like dread.

But as she swept the floor and turned off the lights, she let herself pretend for fifteen minutes that she could be the one with the keys. Maybe, in another universe, she’d have a father who hadn’t left the moment he’d found out his wife had multiple sclerosis, or a mother who didn’t require care. Maybe then she could walk into a bank and they'd see her as a promising young entrepreneur, not a liability with a history of late bill payments and a weakness for pretty journals she rarely used.

Maddie sent her mom a quick text to let her know she’d be late—and breathed a sigh of relief when Rose texted back that she was fine and she’d have some soup warmed up when Maddie got home. Then she bundled up, tucked the rose arrangement under her arm and the peperomia inside her purse, and braced herself for the wind.

The air outside stung her cheeks, and the sun had long since set, leaving Main Street bathed in the orange glow of the street lights. As she made her way to her car, the heavy truth settled around her.

She wouldn’t need two weeks to decide—she’d have to decline Pearl’s offer. She’d let her know tomorrow.