Elly in Bloom. Colleen Oakes

me to buy my house and we were so … happy. I was always overjoyed at my life and found it incredible. My friends, I think, saw something else. He was very caught up in his art and his successes and trials made him very … emotional. I feel so stupid now, but—”

      Kim’s face softened. She offered, “You thought it was sexy.”

      Elly felt her heart wilt. “Yes! But more than that, I loved being a part of him expressing his creativity. I was part of his passion. My job was so boring, and I was grateful that he was an escape from all that. We got married. He loved my mother, but didn’t handle it well when she passed away.” She felt her anger pouring over the table, out onto the street. “He had no roots in anything but his art. I knew he loved me. Then why did he, I mean how could he?” Elly stopped. “I’m sorry. I’m done for today. This is the first time I’ve talked about this to anyone. I feel terrible—you are a very nice person. I’m sorry to unload all this baggage on you. You can go if you want. I’d understand.”

      Kim narrowed her eyes. “Are you kidding me? This is the most exciting thing I’ve heard in a long time. You picked up and just drove away from your life. You’ve done what a lot of us have thought about doing, many times.” She put her hand over Elly’s. “Not that it’s a good thing. It’s just … a brave thing. The people around here,” she said, waving her arm around, “are pretty boring. They are stuck in their upper-class lives, get their coffee every morning, talk about politics—about which they all agree anyway, spend too much money on their children’s schools, and get plastic surgery. You’re the most honest thing to come my way in a while.” Elly surrendered a small smile.

      The morning passed quickly. Elly shared more about herself than she ever had with any of her friends in Georgia. Kim told her stories that made her blush and laugh about the neighbors, the inhabitants of this strange little chic suburb, this Clayton. Elly had three hot chocolates and Kim had two more lattes and pumpkin bread. By the time noon rolled around, Elly’s ambition to drive into oblivion had disappeared. Her exhaustion soaked into her bone marrow.

      “So what’s next for you?” Kim asked.

      “I don’t know…. I was headed west. I thought it would be pretty.” Elly winced at how stupid she sounded and stretched her arms above her head. “I’ll probably just find a hotel, stay the night, and leave in the morning.”

      Kim pestered her with rapid questions, “So there is no one there that you are going to meet? What is your plan? Do you know anyone out there?”

      “Nope. I just thought I would drive until I found somewhere I liked.”

      “So, what about here?” Kim asked.

      “Where is here?” Elly asked. Kim gave a grin. “You are in Clayton, Missouri. Land of heat and flowers.”

      “Here?” Elly glanced around at the well-dressed crowd sipping their overpriced drinks behind the shiny marble countertop. “Yeah … I don’t think I really fit in here,” she lamented, unable to picture her squat body waddling down the posh main street.

      “Yeah. I don’t either.” Kim turned her head thoughtfully.

      That’s true, Elly thought. Kim didn’t really fit in. She was dressed like a hippie—wearing a light-blue dress that seemed to have the stitches on the outside, an expensive-looking turquoise necklace, and black-and-white espadrilles. It was quite urban for this posh suburb. Still, Elly knew that beautiful people like Kim seemed to fit in everywhere; it came as naturally as smiling. Even now, she could feel men’s eyes on their table. A handsome yet chubby man wearing an apron had been staring at their table since they sat down, unsuccessfully hiding behind his newspaper.

      “What would I do here? Honestly, I probably need to go home … beg for my job back.” The thought of facing her boss, who would offer unsolicited advice and give her a gift card for Macy’s, sent a pang of nausea through her stomach. Kim frowned at her and looked directly into her eyes.

      “Why would you do that? You left for a reason. You haven’t driven two days straight just to turn around. Whatever you left behind, it hasn’t changed just because you’re gone. If you go crawling back, you’ll end up where you were before.” She paused. “I would know. I’ve left many men and gone back again, only to find myself in the exact same moment, leaving again. The wasted time that I will never get back is depressing to think about, especially now that I’m married to someone wonderful.” Kim was now on a roll and getting louder by the minute. Her hands flailed around wildly. Elly wanted to shrink in her chair.

      “Elly, your heart is broken. I can see it on your face and hear it in your voice, and I know that I don’t know you, but I feel like you’re meant to be here … here, in this ridiculous coffee shop.” She giggled and then grew suddenly serious. “I woke up today and felt that something important was going to happen. I saw you snapping at the barista and I felt like I knew that you were going to be a part of my life. It’s the oddest feeling. I’m not a person who usually believes in signs, but I can’t shake this feeling that my reason for being here this morning is you.” Kim paused and reached for her hand. “I think you should stay.”

      Elly was overwhelmed by exhaustion and the emotion of the moment. She blinked back tears as she lifted her head to look past Kim, to see the sun streaming in through the windows. Suddenly she was back in her car, the sun rising, sitting in front of her house, trying to breathe. She was walking down the stairs in her house, hearing two voices, muffled through the door….

      She wouldn’t go back. She couldn’t go back. Not yet. And maybe, if she waited long enough, he would come for her. By then, she would surely be mended.

      “So … where are we again?”

      “Clayton, Missouri. St. Louis.”

      Elly smiled and repeated the name to herself. “Clayton. Okay.”

      And so she had decided to stay. And it was almost two years ago to the day.

      Elly snapped her mind back to the present in Ada’s Coffee. She grabbed her drink with her free hand, gave the barista a smile, and headed back to Posies. As she stuck her old-fashioned gold key into the large brass lock and opened the door, the bell chimed and Cadbury, her English sheepdog, trotted down from upstairs. He nuzzled her feet as she closed the door with her hip and pushed play on the stereo. Cadbury emitted a high-pitched whine as she ignored him to set her drink down.

      “That’s enough. I’m right here. It’s not like we didn’t spend the last eight hours together. Remember? When you kicked my stomach?” Cadbury licked her elbow. “Oh love,” she said scratching behind his ears, “you are the worst dog in the world.”

      “Good morning!” chimed a voice from somewhere in back. Elly set her hot chocolate down mid-grin. Her loyal staff was already here, hard at work for tomorrow’s wedding. She headed for the back room, where dozens of buckets held flowers that were being processed. Elly stepped over a mound of dried leaves and twigs and looked over at her assistant manager.

      “This one’s a no-greenery. No surprise there.” Kim stood, arm halfway down an ambiance rose stem, its dewy cream petals blushing to a bright pink at the tip. “What? You know she is.”

      Elly sighed. “You think everyone is a no-greenery bride. You have a low tolerance for needy women.”

      “Why am I friends with you then? I’m just saying, she e-mailed me twice this morning to ask about whether her roses were really blown open or just blown open, that put her into the no-greenery bride category,” Kim retorted. Elly grunted. She was probably right.

      There were two types of brides that came to Posies, their high-end flower studio. Greenery brides were easygoing, laid-back, daisy kind of girls. No-greenery brides were antichrysanthemum, antifoliage, antieverything.

      Kim continued her ranting. “If they had their way, we would all be carrying white-rose bouquets with pearl flower accents, a white wrap, and NO greenery to enhance the bouquet whatsoever.” They also called eight times every day to have lengthy conversations