String of Hearts: Old Town Braverton Sweet Romance, #1

By Roxie Clarke

When widower Ryan Tupper walks into the Pinwheel Plant Shop, owner Avery Wheeler is surprised to see her brother's best friend from high school and confused by her attraction to him.

It's only been six months since Avery's husband died in a car accident and she's had zero desire to date again, but Ryan knows what it's like to be the spouse left behind. 

While he's been adjusting to his new life as a single dad, Avery's been trying to get up to speed on the business side of the plant shop—something her late husband always took care of—but she's in serious debt and could lose the store.

In what should be a win-win opportunity, Ryan asks Avery to co-host a call-in radio show with him all about houseplants. He's a popular morning show host who knows nothing about plants, and she's a plant whisperer in need of extra funds. See? Win-win.

That is until people ask if they're together together, instead of how much and how often they should water their begonias.

Caught between missing her husband and missing out on a budding relationship with Ryan, Avery must mourn or move on and both choices terrify her.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Write Free Press
• Release date: Nov 30, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393379591

Roxie Clarke

Roxie Clarke writes sweet romance featuring houseplants, hunky heroes, and happily ever afters. She lives outside Portland, OR with her husband and their five children. It is loud at her house.

Book preview

INTRODUCTION

Hi! Thanks for picking up String of Hearts. I appreciate it.

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1

Avery blew an errant lock of hair out of her face and dug her hands deep into the plastic bin of potting soil sitting on top of the long white folding table. The heavier bits tend to sink, so you need to bring the soil up to make sure all the components distribute evenly.

The people in the workshop she was teaching—Potting Succulents the Right Way—sat quietly in the plastic chairs around the table and watched her stir the dirt.

Avery felt like an idiot. Layla usually taught all the classes at the Pinwheel Plant Shop, but she was home with a nasty cold and Avery couldn’t afford to hire any other employees.

She finished with the soil. Come have a look everyone. Your mix will save you from a lot of troubles down the road. Succulents are deceptively finicky.

The class—three middle-aged women, a twenty-something couple on a date, and a pre-teen girl with two blond braids—lined up along the brick wall of the meeting room to look in the bin. The women snapped photos on their phones.

Is it okay if I touch it? the girl asked.

Sure! Avery said, impressed that the youngest in the class had spoken up. She would never have been brave enough to ask a question when she was in the third or fourth grade. It’s good to get a feeling for how the soil should, uh, feel.

The girl plunged her hand into the soil and let it run between her fingers. It’s so light, I expected it to feel more like mud.

Excellent observation, Avery said, forgetting the girl’s name. I’m sorry I’m horrible with human names. What’s yours?

The girl laughed. Graceann.

Everyone took their seats and Avery retrieved a cardboard box from the corner behind her. She passed out a succulent in a 4-inch grower’s pot to each student, giving Graceann the Ceropegia woodii, or String of Hearts. Avery got the feeling she would enjoy the challenge of potting up a hanging plant.

Now, as promised, Avery said, included in your workshop fee is the choice of one ceramic pot. She gestured to the pots sitting on a shelf at the far end of the room. I have several appropriate pots for you to choose from. They were all made by a Portland potter, Bradley Marconi of Wavelength Pottery, and I think the colors complement the succulents so nicely.

Avery watched to see if Graceann would choose one of the two hanging pots which were available. When she went for the deep purple glazed hanging pot, Avery smiled. It’s the one she would have chosen for herself.

Let’s begin by filling the bottoms of the pots with a handful of pebbles, Avery said, showing the class how to do so. And then we’ll spoon in about a half cup of soil.

She waited while all the students followed her directions. The couple got the giggles. Avery was hoping it had nothing to do with accidentally harming one of their plants. Then they started kissing. Right there in the presence of everyone! Avery zoned out watching them, trying to remember the last time Tevin had kissed her. It had been a long, long time ago. Man, they were really going for it.

Graceann cleared her throat and waved her hand in front of Avery’s face.

Avery looked her way, blanking on the next step in the potting process.

Yes? Avery said, thankful to the girl for snapping her back to the present.

Is it okay if I guess what comes next? Graceann asked.

Of course! Guess away.

Graceann placed her palm gently on top of the String of Hearts and tipped the 4-inch pot into her hand, applying light pressure to the outside. Next we remove the plant from the pot, careful to keep it together as much as possible.

The plant or ourselves? one of the middle-aged women asked.

Graceann grinned. The plant. I don’t know how grownups keep it together. It’s probably different from kids.

Everyone laughed, including Mr. and Mrs. PDA, and followed Graceann’s lead.

I think maybe I should hire you to teach these workshops, Avery said. You’re doing an outstanding job.

Should I keep going? Graceann asked.

Please do, Avery said, grateful she was no longer the center of attention. Now she could monitor what the students were doing while they focused on Graceann.

After class the students packed up their things and held their newly potted succulents in their hands, proud of the work they’d done.

Avery walked most of them from the meeting room at the back of the building, through the shop and to the locked front door. Normally, she would have kept the Pinwheel open, but she couldn’t be two places at once, and it wasn’t like customers were banging down her door trying to get in and buy plants.

She unlocked the front door and ushered the students out into the brisk evening, mentioning that she’d love to see them at the next workshop.

Graceann had stuck around and was cleaning up.

Thanks so much for all of your help, Avery said. I guess you could tell I’m awful at teaching these things. My associate Layla usually does it.

Graceann shrugged. You were fine. Maybe a little nervous, but you shouldn’t be. I mean you own a plant shop in a cool old building all by yourself. That would make me way more freaked out.

Avery chuckled, swiping some scattered soil from the table into the bin. Oh, that totally freaks me out too, she said. I’ve only been running this place by myself for the past six months.

You bought the other person out? Graceann asked, taking a broom from the corner and sweeping underneath the table.

How old are you? Avery asked. You sure act like an adult.

Graceann nodded like the wizened elder she was. I’m nine. But I’m an only child and my mom died from breast cancer last year, so I had to grow up fast.

Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry about your mom, Avery said, wondering if it would be weird for her to give the girl a hug. She always knew so much better how to care for plants than people. She decided against it.

The co-owner of the store was my husband. He passed away too. In an accident. Avery saw the flash of the headlights and heard the tires screeching like it was happening right then and there. Had she kissed him that night? Was that the last time? She couldn’t remember. She’d been so annoyed with him.

Graceann set the broom down and walked over to Avery. Can I give you a hug? she asked.

Why hadn’t Avery thought of that? Simply asking.

Yes, please, she said. I could use one.

The girl wrapped her arms around Avery’s waist and squeezed her tight. Avery gently embraced her, resting her cheek on top of the girl’s head.

Oh, my gosh, Avery said after a minute. I suppose someone is coming to pick you up? She didn’t remember an adult coming into the store to drop Graceann off. Surely, she wasn’t walking home or riding her bike. It was nearing eight o’clock in the evening.

My dad will come get me. He’ll text when he gets here. Graceann pulled out of the hug and went back to sweeping up.

"Okay, but will you have him park and come inside to get