Carolina Moon

Spooky little thing.
    She couldn’t let it matter. But oh, it mattered. She’d been insane to come back here where everyone knew her, where no secret was ever truly kept. Why hadn’t she stayed in Charleston where it was safe, where her life had been quiet and her privacy complete?
    Sitting there, skin clammy, stomach rolling, she wished desperately for her pretty, familiar house, her tidy garden, the routine of her demanding but impersonal job in someone else’s shop. Sitting there, she wished for the anonymity she’d cloaked herself in for four steady years.
    She should never have come back. She should never have risked herself, her savings, her peace of mind. What had she been thinking?
    Of Hope, she admitted, and slowly raised her head. She’d been thinking of Hope.
    Foolish, reckless, she thought. Hope was dead and gone and there was nothing she could do to change it. Now everything she’d worked for was on the line. And to preserve it, she would have to face the stares and the whispers.
    When she heard the knock on the shop door her first instinct was to crawl under the desk, curl up, and slap her hands over her ears. The fact that she nearly did, could actually see herself huddled there, pushed her to her feet.
    She had thirty minutes until opening, thirty precious minutes to pull herself together. Whoever was out there would just have to go away.
    She straightened her shoulders, ran a hand over her hair to smooth it, then started out to tell the early arrival to come back at ten.
    She saw her grandmother’s face on the other side of the glass and sprinted to the door. “Oh, Gran. Oh.” She flung her arms around Iris and clung like a woman dangling off a cliff clings to a rock. “I’m so glad to see you. I didn’t think you were coming. I’m so glad you’re here.”
    “Not come? For your grand opening? Why, I couldn’t wait to get here.” Gently she nudged Tory into the shop. “I drove Cecil crazy badgering him to push a little more speed out of his truck. That’s Cecil behind the corn plant, and Boots behind the mountain of him.”
    Tory sniffled, then managed a laugh when Cecil poked his head around the long, bladelike leaves. “It’s wonderful, and so are you. All of you. Let’s put it…” She turned around, calculating space and impact. “Right over there, at the end of the display along the wall. It’s just what I needed.”
    “Doesn’t look to me like you needed a thing,” Iris commented. “Tory, this place looks spiffy as a June bride. All these lovely things.” She hooked her arm around Tory’s shoulder, studying the shop as Cecil grunted the ornamental tree into place. “You always had an eye.”
    “I just can’t wait to buy something.” Boots, polished as a new penny in her yellow sundress, clapped her hands like a girl. “I want to be your very first sale today, and I warned J.R. I was going to have his credit card smoking before I was done.”
    “I’ve got a fire extinguisher.” Tory laughed and turned to hug her.
    “And lots of breakables.” Mindful of them, Cecil put his hands safely in his pockets. “Makes me feel clumsy.”
    “You break it, you bought it,” Iris said with a wink. “All right, honey-pot, what can we do?”
    “Just be here.” Tory let out a long breath. “There’s nothing left, really. I’m as ready as I’m going to be.”
    “Nervous?”
    “Terrified. I just need to put out the tea and cookies, keep my hands busy for the next little while. Then—” She turned as the door jangled.
    “Delivery for you, Miz Bodeen.” The young boy from the florist carried a glossy white box.
    “Thank you.”
    “My ma’s coming over later today. Said she wanted to see how her arrangements look, but I expect she wants to see what you got.”
    “I’ll look forward to seeing her.”
    “Sure got a lot of stuff.” He craned his neck to look around while Tory took a dollar out of the cash drawer. “I expect people’ll be coming in soon. Everybody’s talking about it.”
    “I hope so.”
    He stuffed the bill Tory handed him into his pocket. “Thanks. See ya later.”
    Tory set the box on the counter and took off the lid. It was full of gerber daisies in bright, cheerful colors and fat, sassy sunflowers.
    “Aren’t they pretty!” Iris leaned over her shoulder for a better look. “And just exactly right. Roses wouldn’t go with your pottery and wood. Somebody knew enough to send you nice, friendly flowers.”
    “Yes.” She’d