Free Have Bouquet, Need Boyfriend by Rita Herron

would be housed
    inside. Maybe he’d check out Atlanta housing while he was at it. The
    sooner he nailed down his plans, the better. Then he could finally have
    the life he wanted….
     
     
     
    The crisp winter air smelled heavenly as Rebecca left the Book Nook to
    go home to her apartment. She’d rented one of the small lofts the town
    had recently renovated to encourage newcomers, and loved it. The small
    loving town had embraced her like the arms of one of the ancient oaks
    and become her extended family, offering her a comforting haven through
    friends and family.
     
    She’d moved around all the time when she was young, never having a real
    home. She couldn’t imagine ever leaving or living anywhere but Sugar Hill.
     
    Although some of the downtown area still needed a facelift, and a few
    shops were struggling, Mimi’s shop and hers were successful, and so was
    Alison’s bridal boutique, Weddings To Remember. She passed her aunt’s
    law practice, the antique store, Cissy’s Cut and Curl, and a hardware
    store. Roger Thornhill had a small feed store, and Wilbur Cummings had
    opened a hobby shop across the way where the kids exchanged baseball
    cards and the men met for checkers. Beside the bakery sat the butcher
    shop where Jerry worked; she always avoided it on the way home. The town had
     
     
     
    also added a playground in the center of the square with benches for the
    moms and dads to relax.
     
    She darted inside the florist’s, gazing at the roses in the window along
    with the other assorted flowers and plants, memorizing the details of
    each one to add to the painting she’d started of her grandmother’s
    flower garden. Enchanted by the heavenly scents, she couldn’t resist;
    she bought a bouquet of assorted flowers to take home.
     
    As she stepped outside, a gust of wind rustled the elms and maples and
    spun the weather vane that topped the hardware store. Neon-green and
    orange signs advertising her uncle Wiley’s end-of-the-year used-car sale
    swung back and forth above the one stop light in the town square. He’d
    also run radio commercials advertising the special extravaganza on New
    Year’s Eve, featuring live entertainment with an Elvis Presley
    impersonator scheduled to sing before Wiley gave away a car-a
    pickup he’d custom painted purple. Uncle Wiley was such a character, so
    easy to talk to that you had to love him.
     
    Except, he and her father didn’t get along at all. She’d never quite
    understood what had caused the rift between them. Her dad complained
    about Uncle Wiley’s outrageous ads, called him cheesy and said he was an
    embarrassment to the family. Wiley claimed her father was a snob, that
    he’d turned his back on his family when he’d moved to Atlanta.
     
    Maybe they would behave themselves at Grammy’s surprise party. She
    certainly hoped so.
     
    Rebecca rounded the corner to her apartment and opened the wrought-iron
    gate, then froze. She heard Jerry before she saw him, his muffler
    roaring above
     
    the strains of Garth Brooks’s “Shameless” bellowing from the speakers.
    No matter what time of year, Jerry kept his windows rolled down.
     
    Not wanting to face him tonight, she sprinted inside before he gathered
    his thermos and lunch pail and locked up his truck. Once inside, she
    ignored his phone call. Thank heavens for caller ID. After a week of him
    knocking at her door unannounced, she’d learned to keep her music low
    and her shades drawn. Then he never knew if she was home or simply
    ignoring him.
     
    It was easier than hurting his feelings.
     
    She fixed herself a sandwich, then changed into her grubby clothes and
    went to the easel. She’d already completed one canvas of her
    grandmother’s bulb garden-the white, crimson and yellow tulips and blue
    hyacinths set off by the wide, sweeping border of purple Virginian
    stock. This time she decided to paint the mountainscape and detail the
    gazebo where her cousins had married; it would be