“We better go,” Dahlia said. “I have some freelance stuff to fiddle with before dinner. Though, Marianne is still at The Apothecary,” Dahlia said. “Do you want to go say hi?”
They made their way back down the hall and stepped outside again.
“Yes,” Ruby said. “It’s why I’m here. I couldn’t wait to see you. I figured I would come wander around until dinner. Also, I was falling asleep on my feet.”
“You could’ve just...slept,” Dahlia pointed out.
“You sound like Mom,” Ruby groused.
“Gee, thanks,” Dahlia said.
“No problem.”
Dahlia was about to launch into a monologue on all the ways she was not their mother when Ruby stopped abruptly on the sidewalk and turned, waving. “Hi, Mr. Davis!”
Dahlia followed Ruby’s gaze to the bank across the street. The little bank was housed in red brick like all the other buildings on that block. Quaint on the outside, and on the inside, bearing most of the markers of the original Rochelle Bank, which had been founded by the Rochelle family back in the 1800s. And right out front was Mr. Davis, the owner of the only supermarket in town.
“Hi, Ruby,” he said. “I hope you’re back for good this time!”
People asked Ruby that every time they came to visit, though Dahlia was absolutely certain the news that Ruby was indeed back for good had made its way onto the prayer chain.
A great way to share town news without technically engaging in gossip.
“I am,” Ruby called, then shrugged her shoulders and turned, continuing to walk down the redbrick sidewalk. Her sister tilted her face up toward the sun, and smiled dreamily. And Dahlia could only marvel at the entire interaction. Everyone always seemed delighted to have their day interrupted by Ruby. And really,everyonewasn’t an exaggeration. Everyone remembered her. Everyone... They all liked her.
Not that Dahlia was unliked. But she was just more serious than Ruby, who was quirky dipped in brightness and glitter. An eternally sunny woman-child, who existed in a state of constant delight. Whereas Dahlia had been concerning the church choir director since she was twelve and had shown up at rehearsal for the Christmas pageant with black fingernails.
That had been the last year she had participated in that.
She just didn’t bring out joy or generosity in people the way Ruby did.
She’d been told she was intense. By more than one man she’d dated.
Obviously not a compliment.
It wasn’t a problem limited to Pear Blossom. She’d found she had the same issues when she’d been at college. The thing was, Dahlia believed in the truth. Finding it, telling it.
It was what made her a good journalist.
And no, she didn’t have a fantasy about traveling the world and uncovering hard-hitting stories. Her interests lay much closer to home, in the people and places around her. But she’d always been interested in the small, unusual things. In the quiet people.
She wanted to dig in, go deep, get to the bottom of the ordinary. She believed that was where the truly extraordinary lived.
Of course, casual interviews would be easier if she had Ruby’s people skills. People had called Dahlia’s gaze both “intimidating” and “laser like,” and sometimes her eagerness to go right for the deep waters didn’t benefit her.
But then again she imagined that grilling Ron Davis over the buying habits of the local populace in the internet age had come across as a tad bit... Well...
Intense.
And they went on like that, moving down the sidewalk, pausing for Ruby to greet Molly Hudson, the church secretary, and Pastor Lawrence. After greeting the latter, Dahlia’s boot caught on one of the raised edges of the sidewalk bricks, and she nearly pitched forward, but Ruby grabbed hold of her arm. The two of them stumbled about three steps together, and Ruby snickered, still holding her arm. “What exactly do you do without me?”
Dahlia brushed her hands down over her skirt. “Walk down the street without stopping every two seconds to have a chat.”
Ruby grinned. “How boring.”
Their arms still linked, they stopped in front of their sister’s boutique. The Apothecary was one of the most successful shops on Main Street. It was small, carrying a highly curated selection of bath and beauty products, plus a small selection of cotton and linen clothing, all made in small batches, with all-natural ingredients. Marianne did brisk business both in town and online.
Ruby pushed the white door open, and they were immediately swallowed up by the scent of lavender and soap. Marianne let out a short scream, and stood up quickly behind the white counter. She flew around to their side in a flurry of caramel-colored highlights and floral chiffon. “You’re home!”