“You guys,” she said. “You’re so fantastic.”

“We can figure out how to put a sign on the door. When are you headed to Portland for the wedding?”

“Friday morning, first thing. You still want to go, Ginger?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “Are you sure it’s okay? Are you sure I won’t be deadweight?”

“I’d love for you to come. I’m going to make up a few centerpieces early Friday morning for their Friday-night party but I’ll transport the rest of my flowers in the back of the van, which is refrigerated. I’ll make up the wedding flowers at my old shop in Portland early Saturday. That way if I’m missing anything Mamie and Ross can probably help me fill in. We’re closing the shop for the wedding. That’s how it rolls for a big out-of-town affair.”

“I’ll be around if you want someone in the shop that Saturday,” Iris reminded her.

“Nah,” Grace said. “When I took this wedding I made a decision—I’d close for a couple of days. What I could earn keeping the shop open is more than offset by Peyton’s wedding. Let’s not drive ourselves crazy. I can recommend other florists in the area or take orders for Monday pickup or delivery.”

“Excellent,” Iris said. “In that case, hand over the store cell phone. I’ll take it until you’re back.”

Grace took it off her belt, looked at it and gave it to her. “The charger is on my desk. I think I’m having separation anxiety already.”

“Just make sure your desk and computer are just as you want them—I might have to share them until you’re back. Then get out of here, get ready to go.”

“Right,” she said, heading for her office. A half hour later she was hauling some of her spring sidewalk displays outside. When she turned, Iris was standing there, tapping her foot, arms crossed over her chest.

“All right,” Iris said. “Ginger and I have this. Go.”

“You’re sure? I still have time...”

“Go. If I have a question, which I probably won’t, I know your number.”

“Okay.” She looked at her watch. “I’ll be upstairs till noon. I’ll stop in to say goodbye.”

“Great. We’ll be fine.”

Grace dashed up the stairs and into her loft. Troy was just tugging up and zipping his pants and she grinned. “Looks like I’m seconds too late.”

He pulled the zipper down. “I have a little time to spare.”

“I should have learned by now, we don’t joke around about sex, since you’re a sex maniac. Zip those britches, mister—I have a lot to do. I want to clean up around here and pack. I’m sure you have things to do, too.”

He tilted his head. “I’m a guy. My cleaning up and packing will take about fifteen minutes.”

“That’s great, just don’t show up here until noon. It takes me longer.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her close to kiss her. “Thanks for last night.” Then he let her go and shot out the door.

Grace took just a second to savor the moment. It was so nice having a real live boyfriend wanting her and letting her know it. She never in her wildest dreams imagined this could happen to her, especially not with someone as wonderful as Troy. She thought it only happened in novels.

She shook herself and got busy. It wouldn’t take long—this was like living in an RV and she loved it. She changed her sheets and smoothed the comforter over her bed. Then she opened the suitcase on top of the bed but before she packed her clothes, she scrambled around the little loft. She ran the vacuum she kept in the small broom closet, dusted off her wood furniture, wiped off the table, counters, microwave, fridge and left the cleaner in the bathroom for the sink and mirror. She checked the fridge for food that should be thrown out, packed her charged laptop in her briefcase, and then she started on her clothes.

She wasn’t taking anything dressy. She folded and packed underwear, a couple of pairs of nice pants, jeans, coordinated tops and a blazer. Shoes were added. She glanced at her watch, proud—there was plenty of time. She’d take a shower, clean the bathroom behind herself and be ready with time to spare. She stepped out of the shower after a nice scrub and shave, dried and moisturized, wrapped herself in a towel and reached under the sink for her makeup. She’d leave her makeup bag, hair dryer, brush and comb, lotion out on the counter so they could go right in her suitcase and—

There it was. Her box of tampons. That hadn’t been touched in she wasn’t sure how long. And right beside it in a little plastic bag was that pregnancy test Peyton had given her. Just in case... “Oh, dear baby Jesus,” she said aloud. She sank onto the closed toilet lid.

What had happened?

Okay, Peyton had suggested the test if her period didn’t come.

But instead of getting a period, she’d gotten a scary note that appeared to be from her stalker. The world tipped. She had been consumed with fear, with protection plans that included using a Taser on her boyfriend. She had been filled with frightening memories of being a fourteen-year-old girl held captive in a maintenance closet until police could come. Denny and Becca came for a weekend, and Grace skated for them. Her mother made a surprise appearance and...

Somewhere in there, with one crisis after another, she’d completely forgotten about everything else. She tried counting the weeks since she’d had a period and couldn’t figure out the exact number.

The best thing that could happen would be a negative test result now. She unwrapped the test, read the directions quickly and got ready.

And nothing came.

“Come on, come on, come on,” she chanted.

She sat and sat and finally, she felt the urge and wet the stick. Then she had to let it sit for a few minutes. She just stared at it. Gradually, after the first minute and a half, a pink shadow began to appear on the yes side. But she stared at it without blinking, because surely it would go away.

But no. It was two lines. A red button appeared and the word yes popped up.

Grace felt as if she was going to throw up. She sat weakly on the toilet lid. Pregnant, she thought. “Crap.”

Eighteen

When Troy arrived back at Grace’s place with his packed bag, he saw that hers was sitting at the foot of the stairs to the loft. Sure enough, he found her in the shop, going over last-minute details with Iris and Ginger.

“If Peyton should come in to check on things, tell her we’re right on schedule and not to worry about a thing. I think she plans on going to Portland with her sister, Scott to follow with his kids. Even though I won’t be here, tell her we’re good to go, her flowers have been ordered, rest easy. She might not have my personal cell number so you can give it to her if she needs reassurance.”

“Peyton’s not the jittery sort,” Iris said. “And I didn’t think you were, but you seem to be wound up. Is taking the boyfriend home a little nerve-racking?”

She shook her head. “My mother has met Troy, so that’s not it. I haven’t been home in years. In fact, my last four years in competition I was rarely home. I was wherever my coach or the competition was and that was everywhere but home. I seemed to be training in LA or Chicago, only visiting San Francisco when my mother happened to be there. I have no reason to be nervous.”