It Takes A Village
Okay, so you were supposed to be getting the second chapter of "Melt Your Heart" next but then Taylor Swift's gorgeous new album and some gin happened, and a couple thousand more words of this story got written instead. Thank you all SO much for the reviews on the previous chapter. I was super nervous about posting it because it's obviously very different from anything the show would ever do, so I'm glad you liked it! I hope you like this chapter too, I was particularly proud of my chapter title for this one and I'm sorry I made Cassie sad again :(
This chapter is dedicated to the "Guest" who left a review on chapter 5 saying they wished someone would tell Sam he'd been invited to dinner the night Tara & Brandon announced they were expecting a baby. Once that seed was planted, I knew there was only one Middletonian who could do it (and no, it's not Martha!) ;)
Chapter 7: The Floral Arrangement
Abigail had no intention of spending the weekend in New York City with Harry, but Linda didn't need to know that. She hoped that she had firmly planted the seed of how much more desirable New York was compared to teeny, tiny Middleton. Making the comparison left a bitter taste in Abigail's mouth because Middleton was her home now and she loved it. If it made Linda long to return to the big apple, then it would be worth the slight discomfort it gave her.
Abigail remembered the way that Linda's eyes had lit up when she had talked about her favourite restaurants, boutiques and delicatessens. And, unless Abigail was mistaken which frankly never happened, there had also been a man involved somehow before Linda came rushing to town to care for Nick.
Although a trip to NYC was definitely off the table, Abigail had decided to visit Harry the following weekend. He had been making the drive to Middleton most Friday nights since they had met on that fateful ski trip. Abigail usually opened the flower shop at weekends because she picked up a lot of passing trade, on Saturday in particular. She knew that Harry was getting tired of hanging around while she worked. She didn't want to lose any of her customers though, especially not to the flower shop in Blairsville. It just didn't bear thinking about, and she couldn't face the earache she'd get from Martha if she knew that the Blairsville Flower Emporium was more successful than Abigail's shop.
This left Abigail with something of a conundrum though. Who could she ask to mind the shop for her on Saturday if she was away with Harry? She smiled, looking at her reflection in the bedroom mirror and approving of what she saw. She thought she might have just the right candidates in mind.
She went downstairs and breezed into the kitchen, helping herself to a glass of freshly pressed orange juice from the pretty jug Cassie had picked up at an estate sale but liked so much she had decided to bring it home rather than put it up for sale in the Bell Book.
Cassie had her back to Abigail as her cousin entered the room, but the younger Merriwick already knew that something was up. Cassie was pale, her black hair not quite as shiny as it always was and there was a look of acute misery in her eyes.
"Cassie, are you alright?" Abigail was not a hugger by any stretch of the imagination, but all she wanted in that moment was to embrace Cassie and tell her that everything was going to be okay.
"Just tired," She replied, bending to take a tray of apple cinnamon muffins out of the oven.
Abigail thought it was probably the wrong moment to ask for a favour, but at the same time it might be a welcome distraction.
"I hate to ask this when you're clearly in need of a break yourself," Cassie looked at Abigail sharply as she said this. "But," She forged on. "I'm going to visit Harry this weekend. He's dragged his sorry ass across the state enough times for me since we got together, I figured it should be me who does the travelling this time."
Cassie nodded, waiting for the punch line. "That will be nice, he can show you around where he lives."
"The issue is, I don't really want to close the flower shop for the whole weekend. I don't mind about Sunday, but Saturdays are when I shift the most stock and make my profits."
Cassie knew where this was headed, and she knew she should have seen it coming. She just wasn't feeling herself this morning.
"Saturdays are pretty busy for me at the Bell, Book and Candle, you know…"
"Of course," Abigail replied, setting down her empty glass. "Of course they are, but you've got Tara to help you and I'm sure Grace wouldn't mind a little extra in her allowance."
"Abigail," Cassie sighed, too weary to put up any defence. Perhaps working in the flower shop for the day would be fun. She loved her job at the Bell Book, and it wouldn't be so much different would it? Although helping a charming young guy buy the right bouquet for the love of his life might just twist the knife deeper into her own broken heart.
"I'm sorry Cassie, I shouldn't have pushed."
"No, no you should. I'll do it," She actually found herself smiling. "I'd love to do it. I'll check with Tara this morning if she's okay with it and I'll let you handle Grace."
"Consider her handled." Abigail smiled. She reached out and grabbed one of the delicious smelling apple cinnamon muffins straight from the tray, careful to hold it by its tulip paper case. Now she just had to convince the second participant, and she had a feeling that he would be harder to persuade.
Sam rarely went running with headphones on. Maybe it was a leftover habit from living in a city where not paying attention to traffic could get you killed or at least seriously injured. In Middleton, he could have gone for a run with his eyes closed and still would have been safe enough. Today was different; today Sam needed the hard and heavy rock music of his youth screaming in his ears as his feet pounded the Middleton sidewalks.
As much as he didn't want to admit to himself, Sam was a mess. He was a grown, mature man in his middle age but he felt as hormonal and confused as a boy of Nick's age. He couldn't stop thinking about how it had been with Cassie in the Grey House kitchen the previous evening. All of the fantasies he'd had about her; about them since they had been apart had been nothing compared to the real thing. The two of them had barely had a chance to be intimate before their separation and Sam had wondered if his mind had been fooling him about how good things had been before they weren't. Clearly his memory was as sharp as ever though, because he was surprised that the whole kitchen hadn't gone up in flames when they finally got their lips, and hands, on each other.
He knew he had ruined it though. He had pushed too hard and too fast. He turned the volume up another notch so that the AC/DC track blasted into his eardrums. As a medical professional he should know better and turn the volume down to an acceptable level, but he needed that little bit of recklessness this morning.
Sam knew he should have been wooing her; winning her back gently with romance but when George had confessed to him that Cassie still loved him, well he had lost all sense of reason. He should have taken his time, bought her flowers or something from Abigail's shop. But no, he had rushed in like a bull in a china shop and possibly ruined everything all over again.
And then there was Linda. His ex-wife seemed to have an uncanny knack for turning up at exactly the inopportune moment, to put things mildly. He had been so angry that, after he had just made a fool of himself for all but throwing himself as Cassie, Linda had done the very same to him. He should have known it was coming. He couldn't forget the hungry, lustful way that she had looked him the previous morning when he had been wet and dripping from his post-run shower. He would certainly be making sure the bathroom door was locked this morning, and that he was fully wrapped in his terrycloth robe before he even thought about sliding back the bolt. Not that he thought Linda would try anything now, but he wasn't going to put either of them in that position again.
Sam had still been thinking about Cassie as he had taken the frozen pizzas out of the freezer; deep pan meatball feast for him and Nick, and spinach and ricotta for Linda. He was still riled up, his heart still pounding in his chest. Everything in him had wanted to run back to Grey House and take her in his arms again, but Grace had been leaving to head home when Sam had returned.
Cassie had probably been serving up the risotto for them, he had thought with a touch of bitterness until he remember that he had been the one to turn down Cassie's offer to stay. The hurt in her eyes when he had told her he couldn't stay because it was his night to cook had cut him to the quick. It had been a stupid thing to say, even if it was the truth. Sam was painfully aware of how the lines had blurred with Linda living with them again. It was like they were playing out the painful last days of their marriage all over again. Although it had been years since Linda had thrown herself at him the way she had in his kitchen that evening.
The three of them had eaten their pizzas in tense silence. Nick had excused himself after only two slices, which was frankly unheard of but Sam hadn't questioned it and put the leftovers aside for him for a snack. As he had cooked, even if it meant taking two pizzas out of the freezer, putting them on baking sheets and placing in the oven for a quarter of an hour, Linda was on clean up duty. Sam had taken that as a his cue to escape, and had gone up to his own bedroom. Part of him wished that had a lock too, but he had made his position quite clear to Linda. In fact, he had been so worked up from his interaction with Cassie, that he had been more violent and forceful in his rejection of her than he would have been if it had happened a week ago. Not that he would have ever let Linda seduce him again, but last week he might have been kind about it and let her down gently.
When he returned from his run, sweaty and his ears ringing slightly, there was no sign of Linda. Sam brewed some coffee and took it with him to the bathroom. Under the hot, steady drumming of the water, Sam took some time for himself and was feeling calmer by the time he left the bathroom, tightly wrapped in his robe.
He was almost feeling like his old self again when he walked into the clinic, nibbling a bagel from the Bistro out of a brown paper bag. The slight improvement of his mood took a turn when he stepped into the waiting room and saw none other than Abigail Pershing chatting with Eve. There was an amused look in his receptionist's eyes as Sam greeted them both.
"You'd better come through," Sam said wearily as he unlocked his office door. He aimed the empty paper bag at the trashcan and it bounced off the rim, rolling under his desk. Could he not get a break from Cassie's friends and family, not even for a second? Of course he couldn't, he reminded himself. Everyone in this town loved Cassie, and by his association with her, however brief that had been, they loved him too. "Abigail, what can I do for you today?"
Abigail grinned at him. "I've actually come to ask you a massive favour."
"No, I will not dress up as the Easter bunny for the Easter Sunday parade."
Abigail faked a pout. "But you'd be so adorable." When he didn't laugh, she carried on. She wondered if whatever had put him in this grumpier-than-usual mood this morning was the same thing that had made Cassie appear so haunted. "I promised Harry I would visit him this weekend, and I really need someone to help me out at the shop."
Sam was already opening his mouth to protest. What did he know about flowers for heaven's sake? About as much as he knew about women, a little voice in the back of his head piped up.
"I know what you're thinking," Abigail replied, and Sam thought that she probably did. "But I've already asked Tara and she's happy to do it. I'm just worried, you know, with her condition and everything. I know she's not very far along yet, but I don't want her to overdo it if it gets busy."
"Oh of course," Sam replied. If Tara was in charge then it wouldn't be so bad. He could help the customers carry their floral arrangements out to the car, and he was sure he could help tie some ribbons or answer the phone. And, in a roundabout way, helping Abigail might help him to get back into Cassie's good graces.
"So, you'll do it." Abigail all but pounced.
"Yes, I'll do it. But you'd better tell your Harry that he owes me a beer the next time he's in Middleton."
Abigail grinned. "Thank you so much. Honestly, I think he'll break up with me if I make him sit in the flower shop with me one more Saturday!"
"I'm sure he doesn't mind Abigail, anyone can see he's crazy about you."
Abigail hadn't been expecting that. "Thank you, Sam."
"Now, you'd better get out of here before I change my mind, I've got a patient in five minutes."
Abigail leaned in and kissed his cheek. "You're a hero, Sam."
He hadn't never felt less heroic or more ashamed of himself. Perhaps while he was working in the shop, Abigail would let him pick out a nice arrangement for Cassie. Not to try and win her over, but to apologise and to clear the air.
Abigail stopped in the waiting room and turned back around again. In for a penny, she thought, in for pound. She popped her head around Sam's office door.
"I meant to say, it was a shame that you couldn't make it to dinner on Friday night," She pretended not to notice Sam's blank expression. "It would have been nice to have you and Nick there when Tara and Brandon told us their news."
She left in a cloud of perfume and auburn hair, with all of the force of a hurricane; gone before Sam could even form the words to reply. But, it was good to know that Cassie had wanted him there even if the invitation had never made it to him, or Nick. He thought he could probably guess what had happened, because it had Linda's name written all over it.