Forever My Girl (The Beaumont Series)

concentration. Time to put on a happy face . Jenna is walking toward me, coffee cups in hand. I wipe my hands on my green apron and meet her at the counter.
    “Thank you,” I say just before sipping the hot liquid. The way to my heart is definitely through a caramel latte.
    “I knew you needed it. I could sense your deep desire when I was in line.”
    Jenna is my part-timer and all over friend. She moved to Beaumont three years ago to escape an abusive husband and fit in instantly with me and Katelyn.
    “How are you holding up?” she asks. I shrug, not really wanting to talk about things right now. I need to get through the day. As word starts to spread old classmates will be coming back and, as vain as it sounds, I want to look good. I don’t want to look like I just got dumped because that is what most of them remember anyway.
    “I just…” I hide my eyes behind my hand. “I don’t have memories that don't involve Mason. I don’t know what’s going to happen on Monday when I open and he’s not here to buy Katelyn’s flowers. He’s done that for over ten years.”
    “I’m so sorry, Josie. I wish there was something I could do for you guys.”
    “Just being there for Katelyn is enough. I’ll handle my own feelings.”
    Jenna comes around the counter and gives me a hug before going to put on her apron. I’m thankful for her help, especially today. Maybe I can pawn off the funeral arrangements and focus on the happy.
    But then again, maybe not.
    Standing out front, staring into the shop is Mr. Powell. He looks lost. “I’ll be right back,” I say to Jenna as I slip out the door. The weather is breezy with a chill in the air. Definitely not your average Fall day here.
    “Mr. Powell,” I say, reaching out to touch his arm. He lost his wife last year to cancer and now his son – I can’t imagine.
    “Josephine.” His voice is broken, horse. His eyes are hollow and bloodshot. “I was just walking and when I looked into the window here I remembered the first time I had to take Mason to get flowers for Katie. They were going to some dance and I was going to drive them.” He shakes his head as if he’s not sure if he’s making it up or if he doesn’t want to remember anymore.
    “That was a long time ago, Mr. Powell. Do you want to come inside and I’ll call Katelyn for you? Maybe she can come pick you up.”
    He shakes his head. “I don’t want to bother Katie. She has enough to worry about than to babysit her father-in-law.” He stops speaking suddenly, his eyes glaze over. I look around to see what, if anything has caught his attention. “Am I still her father-in-law?”
    My hand covers my mouth but it can’t muffle my cry. “Of course you are,” I whisper. “She’s your Katie, you’re the only one who gets to call her that, ya know. She loves you as if you’re her own father.”
    Mr. Powell looks at me and nods before walking off. I want to follow him and make sure he makes it home or wherever he decides to go, but I stand frozen on the sidewalk watching him walk away.
    Mason will never know the impact he’s had on everyone in Beaumont.
    When I make it back into the shop, Jenna is pulling the roses for the funeral sprays. I breathe a sigh of relief that I didn’t have to ask her. She just knew. I walk up behind her and wrap my arms around her, hugging her, thanking her for being a good friend.
    Orders come in like crazy, most of them for Katelyn or for the service. I keep my delivery boy busy today and each time he walks in he’s smiling from ear to ear. I can’t imagine why. Most people don’t tip when they receive flowers for a funeral, unless of course, you’re Mrs. Bishop, Katelyn’s plastic stuck-up mom who is everything that the word 'proper' stands for.
    Jenna and I work side by side. I try not to pay attention, but can’t help but look over every few minutes. The arrangements are turning out beautifully. I’d like to think that Mason would be impressed.
    “When are you going to say yes to Nick?”
    I threaten to stab Jenna with my shears. “He asked again the other night,” I say as I pull some baby’s breath to cut.
    “What number is that?”
    I shrug. “I lost count.”
    Jenna tosses down her shears and places her hands on her hips. “What the hell are you waiting for? He has a good job, he loves you and he takes care of Noah. Not too many men want to play daddy when it’s not their kid.”
    I try to hide my smile, but she punches me in the arm.