Page 8 of Lilacs and Leather
“Make sure you restock the potting soil display before you lock up for the night,” Wila commands, pulling her silver hair up into a bun.
“Yes, Gran. Restock the potting soil, set up the seed packet display, organize the terra-cotta pots. Got it,” I recite back.
“We should be back before close, but just in case—”
“Lower the awning so it doesn’t get more damaged,” I drone, cutting her off.
Wila grunts approvingly, giving me a curt nod. “If anything happens, call Carlos next door.”
“Gran, we’re going to be late!” Gabby shouts from the back door.
Wila gives me another assessing look before smiling slightly. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she warns.
“Right. Burn down the shop, take the cash, go on the lam. Understood,” I say with mock seriousness.
“Atta girl,” Wila says, laughing as she finally heads out the door.
I sigh as quiet settles over the shop. There’s some traffic noise outside, and the classic rock radio station is playing in the workroom, but I can’t help but relax more fully now that I’m alone. I go back and turn up the music a little as I get started on my tasks. If it stays slow, I could even close a little early and maybe beat the worst of afternoon traffic back home.
I’m in the middle of assembling the cardboard seed packet stand when the phone rings. Grabbing an order pad and pen, I pick up the handset.
“Grandmother Wila’s Flower Shoppe, this is Lydia. How can I help you?” I ask brightly.
“Hello, Lydia.”
I suck in a sharp breath, my blood turning to ice at the sound of my mother’s voice. My hand clenches around the pen, knuckles going white. I can hear my heartbeat in my ears, and I sway a little as my knees weaken beneath me.
“H-how did you get this number?” I choke out.
“It was on the card that came with the flowers you sent. Lovely arrangement, by the way,” she replies casually.
I curse silently. I had been in a rush to get the flowers for Grandpa Fletcher’s funeral out in time for overnight delivery, and Gabby must have stuck a business card in the box when I asked her to finish packing it while I handled a customer.
“Glad you liked them,” I force out.
“Your father and I would have preferred ifyouwere at the funeral, but…” she trails off, tone still casual.
I draw circles on the order pad, tracing the same line over and over. The motion brings me back to center. I straighten my spine, gathering my strength as the sparring match begins.
“Yeah, but ya know, my car is on the fritz,” I say, trying to keep my tone light.
“Yes, Jason told us. I thought your father had made it clear to him how important it was to us that you be there. It would have been such a comfort to me, to have my one and only daughter with me as I put my father in the ground,” Mom goes on, a sniffle at the end of her words.
She lied to you.I write, tracing the words over and over.
“I’m sorry. It just—”
“And your father worries about you being alone, away from the pack, so far from everyone that could look after you.”
She knew and did nothing to warn you.
“I’m not alone, Mom. I’ve got Miss Wila and Gabby.”
“But they’re justbetas, Lydia. You need an alpha, like I have your father and the pack.”
SHE KNEW AND LET IT HAPPEN.
I practically carve the words into the notepad while I stay mute, trying to collect myself. She continues in my silence, talking about how important it is for omegas like us to be under alpha protection, and how unsafe it is to be a female alone in the world, let alone a vulnerable omega. I hum responses to her soliloquy at regular intervals, moving to resume what I had been doing. I’d learned over the years that it is easier to let my mother talk herself to exhaustion in one sitting, and enduring this now would get her off my back for a while. I finish the display and put the seed packets in their appropriate places, only needing to keep half an ear on what my mother is saying at me. If I’ve heard this speech once, I’ve heard it a thousand times.