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Lyla has always had a soft spot for sweet, soft-spoken, ladylike girls.

She loves Gwen dearly, like the bratty, noisy little sister that everyone still adores, and she thinks a little wistfully that Katie will make someone a beautiful wife someday, in spite of blustering and giggling.

But somehow, a shy, quiet, feminine young lady can talk her into just about anything.

Which is why she's very genuinely glad when the pretty little blue-haired girl whose glasses and braids have given her that distinct aura of please don't look at me and have led to her utterly baffling description as homely, wanders into the Flower Shop, still brand-new to the town, one summer morning.

Hasn't she just heard something about the bespectacled little maid and that new farmer in town? She's been hoping for a chance to tease her a little.

"Good morning, Gina," Lyla greets warmly. "I don't see you in here much. Can I help you with something?"

"Oh! Um, actually, I'm here on an errand for Grandma," the younger girl replies, blushing soft warm pink and smiling sheepishly. "She would like to plant some potato seeds out back at the Villa."

"Alright, how many would you like?"

"I think four packages, to start."

As Lyla counts out and wraps her purchase, Gina peeks curiously around, cheeks flushed with delight over the vibrant colours and sweet fragrances of all the flowers.

"Your shop is very beautiful, Miss Lyla; Miss Dia would love it."

Miss Dia...the little dark-haired, green-eyed girl she's seen wandering the forest, deep in thought, early in the evenings?

She laughs softly.

"Well, then, why don't you come back again tomorrow, and bring Miss Dia with you?"

Gina's eyes grow sad.

"Oh, I can't do that. She's ill right now, and the Master – her father, you know – doesn't like it when she socializes with me."

"She likes flowers?" Lyla asks as Gina's expression turns horrified, presumably at revealing something she hadn't meant to.

"Yes, very much. But she doesn't get to have them indoors very often, because she's allergic to some kinds, and she gets illso often already."

"I have some mild allergies, too. But Pink Catmint flowers don't usually aggrivate them terribly; I think they're supposed to be good for that," the pink-haired woman muses aloud, already hurrying across the shop to gather up a bundle. Then she turns, and sends Gina a beaming smile. "I'm glad, because they're my favourite. Baby's Breath and a little bit of fern shouldn't give her any problems either, and they'll add a little bit of interest." With a triumphant little laugh, she deftly wraps a wide, sheer ribbon of soft purple around the bouquet, and hands it to a startled Gina, along with the potato seeds. "Tell your Miss Dia to get well soon, so you two can come back and visit."

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And several mornings later, after Lyla has stopped waiting hopefully for her new friends to drop by, she finds a pretty little basked of sweetgrass, filled generously with plump, dusky deep purple blueberries. A single Pink Catmint is wound artfully around the handle, and a little note is tucked carefully away from the berries.

With a thoroughly mystified smile, she carries the little basket inside, savours a few of the berries, ripened to perfection and with all the indefinable tang of wild-grown fruit, and unfolds the slip if paper.

Dear Miss Lyla,

Thank-you very much for your gift. The flowers are beautiful, and I am enjoying them very much. Gina told me all about your shop, and I am looking forward to coming to see it, and meet you, for myself. Gina also told me that Pink Catmint flowers are your favourites, so I would like to share some of my favourite blueberries with you. Please enjoy them, and come stop by Clove Villa whenever you like.

Sincerely, Dia.

The prim little paragraph is written in dainty, feminine script, and the pale violet-coloured paper smells faintly of the same.

Lyla rereads it a few times, with a little laugh of delight, and then picks up the basket and starts off for the Villa.

Perhaps she and Miss Dia can enjoy the blueberries together over tea.

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