tourists had headed into the store. She hadn’t felt good about leaving her staff alone to handle the onslaught so had missed the meeting.
Right now, in contrast, the store was empty. Completely empty. Clarissa Wu, the salesclerk who had been scheduled to work that day, had called in sick that morning with a stomach bug she feared was food poisoning from a weekend picnic.
She didn’t have any customers. The day had been a slow one so far. Could Sam afford to close the shop for an hour so she could spend time with her friends?
Her mother would have had plenty to say if she knew Sam was even considering closing the store. Though they both tried to attend the Helping Hands meetings when they could, Linda always refused to close the store for something she considered frivolous, even when business was painfully slow. If one of their employees couldn’t cover the lunch break, Linda would stay herself.
Samantha rolled her eyes a little now, remembering the very well-honed martyr act her mother could pull. “You go on and have fun,” Linda would say with a long-suffering look. “I’ll be fine here by myself.”
Those had been other instances where Sam had felt like a terrible daughter. While she may have felt a pang of guilt, quickly squelched, she would invariably attend anyway instead of offering to stay behind so her mother could go in her place.
She justified it at the time by reminding herself that she needed those breaks away from Linda. Anyway, every woman needed time with her friends to recharge her soul.
Now, when she didn’t have anyone else to consider but herself and any potential customers who might be inconvenienced, she wavered for a few more moments, then hurriedly grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled a note saying she would be back in an hour.
She owned the store alone now. If she wanted to go see her friends, who was stopping her? She might miss a sale or two, but if someone wanted an item badly enough, they could come back after lunch.
She flipped the sign on the door to Closed, stuck the note below it with tape, then locked the door behind her and hurried down the street to McKenzie’s store, Point Made Flowers and Gifts.
The moment she opened the door, the familiar sounds of women laughing and the warm, welcoming scent of cinnamon and cloves filled her with comforting peace.
Right decision, she assured herself as she made her way to the workroom in the back. She needed this, especially after missing the last one.
Kenzie opened this room for craft classes and for regular meetings of the Haven Point Helping Hands, a loosely organized group whose goal was to help and lift others in the community. Usually that involved working on craft projects together and selling them at local events, then using the proceeds from those sales to benefit various causes.
When she walked in, conversation around the table stopped as everyone greeted her enthusiastically. She saw a few faces were missing. Devin Barrett, McKenzie’s sister, wasn’t there and neither was Dani Morales. The two of them had demanding careers, one as a physician and the other as a veterinarian, which meant they often couldn’t come to the midday meetings of the group.
“You made it!” McKenzie beamed at her. “I’m so glad.”
“I don’t have long but it feels like it’s been forever since I’ve been able to come to a meeting, and I needed lunch, anyway, so I decided to close the store.”
“Good for you.” Julia Caine, who ran the town library, smiled.
“Grab some salad,” Kenzie ordered. “There’s plenty left.”
She knew better than to argue with the woman so she filled a plate with a large green salad and some of Barbara Serrano’s famous Italian pasta salad, then added a bowl of fresh strawberries.
She sat down at a long rectangular table surrounded by her friends.
“How’s the wedding planning?” Charlene Bailey was asking Gemma Summerhill.
Gemma lit up at the question. “Everything is coming together perfectly.”
“Three weeks now, isn’t that right?” Eppie Becker asked kindly.
“That’s right.”
“It will be here before you know it,” Eppie’s sister, Hazel, said. The two sisters were in their eighties and had spent their entire lives living no farther than a few houses away from each other. They had even married brothers. Though Hazel’s husband had died several years ago, Eppie’s husband squired them both around town to various functions.
“I know,” Gemma said. “I can’t believe the wedding is less than a month away. I’m utterly thrilled