Love to Hate You (Hope Valley #9) - Jessica Prince Page 0,16

as the fanciful little fairy gardens I’d fallen in love with at first sight. It was only a matter of time before she’d be able to come and go as she pleased.

I was in the zone, clipping the stems of flowers I thought would look pretty together and stuffing them into a really cool art-deco vase when I heard the bell over the door ring. Looking up from my work, I watched as two women walked inside, heading straight for the counter where Sylvia was working.

One was a short, curvy woman with huge doe eyes and an incredible head of long, thick hair. I wasn’t sure if it was dark blonde or a super light brown, but whatever the case, it was gorgeous. She was also sporting a noticeable baby bump. The other woman was equally curvy, only taller, and she also had incredible hair that was a red several shades darker than my own.

“Hayden,” Sylvia called from across the shop. I looked her way to see her waving me over. “Come over here for a second, darlin’. There’s some people I want you to meet.”

“Be right there.” Tucking the stem of the orchid in place, I took a step back and tilted my head to get a good look at what I’d just created. It wasn’t bad if I said so myself. Wiping my hands on the front of my tie-dye apron, I headed toward the trio.

“Hayden, this here is Eden and Nona. Ladies”—she waved her hand toward me—“this is my great-niece, Hayden Young. She just moved to town and is helpin’ me out with the shop until I can convince her to step fully into my shoes so I can retire once and for all.”

“Hey. Nice to meet you,” I greeted with a congenial grin.

“Right back at you, doll,” the redhead returned. “So, where’d you move here from?”

“Oh, just Richmond. So not too far away.”

“What brings you to Hope Valley?” Eden asked.

“Oh, uh . . . Well—”

“It’s a tale old as time,” Sylvia cut in. “Cheating bastard of a husband sleeps with wife’s best friend, blah, blah, blah. You know how the story goes.” She waved her hand as though the bomb she’d just dropped was no biggie.

“I’m so sorry,” Eden said, those big eyes filling with sincere sympathy.

“Oh, babe. Been down that road,” Nona commiserated. “Only, my ex didn’t bang a friend. He banged the town skank. But that’s a story for another time.”

As strange as this whole conversation was, I kind of wanted to hear the vivacious woman’s story.

“Well, that’s over and done,” Sylvia declared with finality. “What matters is that she and her daughter are here now, they’re doing just fine, and I’m havin’ a cookout next weekend to celebrate their arrival, so be sure to spread the word, ladies.”

“Ooh!” Eden cried, clapping her hands. “Are you going to make that hummus with the lemon juice and chives again? That stuff is amazing and one of the only things I’m able to keep down. This little bean isn’t letting me enjoy much of anything these days,” she said, giving her belly a rub.

“I can certainly add it to the menu.”

I looked to my aunt in shock. “When did you plan a cookout?”

“Just now,” she answered with a shrug of her shoulder. “One thing you’ll learn from me, sweets; the best parties you’ll ever attend are the ones that form outta thin air.”

“Seriously, Sylvia, you don’t need to do that.”

“Shush, dearie. It’s already done.” She looked back to Eden and Nona. “You’ll pass word along, yeah? Any and all are welcome. I only require each guest to bring a dish.”

“We’re on it,” Nona assured her before turning to me. “Your aunt throws the best parties. Last time, she started an impromptu yoga class. There had to have been like, forty people in her back yard, following along.”

“Oh. And remember the one where she accidentally set out her special brownies instead of the regular ones? There were at least ten people walking around high as kites before she realized and stashed the rest away.”

Both women laughed as I rolled my lips between my teeth to hide my smile. Yoga and pot brownies . . . That was so Sylvia.

Apparently Nona ran the one and only salon in town—and it was the best salon in the state to hear my aunt tell it—and had a standing order once a week for an arrangement she kept at the front desk. Before they left they insisted on exchanging numbers so