Winning Her Love. Harmony Evans

homes in the area. It’s hard to see so many sick and elderly people.”

      Lucy turned over a white porcelain cup and nestled it into its accompanying saucer. “Your flowers will make them feel better, no?”

      Vanessa bit her lip and rubbed her palms on her khaki pants. She felt a trail of sweat bead at the base of her spine beneath her white polo, emblazoned just above her left breast with the shop’s logo.

      “I guess...” She trailed off.

      Although there were many patients who were on the road back to recovery, her mind always seemed to return to the ones who weren’t so lucky. She didn’t want to tell Lucy how many times she’d delivered a cheery get-well floral arrangement to an individual at the hospital and a few days later delivered a more somber arrangement to the patient’s family at a funeral home.

      In her darkest moods, she sometimes wondered how flowers could make a difference. But deep down, she knew that they did because of the life-changing effect they’d had on her own life.

      “I just wish I could do more. Sometimes I feel so powerless.”

      “Ah...perhaps you need to rub the crystal ball more often?”

      Vanessa skirted her eyes over to the large glass orb nestled on a gold-columned pedestal near the front of the store. People routinely touched or patted it on their way out of the restaurant for good luck. Being a tad germophobic and a nonbeliever in Lucy’s magic mumbo jumbo, she never indulged.

      But maybe, she thought, I should start.

      She grinned. “Couldn’t hurt.” Then her smile faltered. “What does your crystal ball say about the future of Bay Point?”

      Lucy sighed heavily. “Change is never easy.”

      She poured Vanessa some coffee, then slid into the opposite side of the booth.

      “When I came to Bay Point from New Orleans to open my diner, I was twenty-two and full of California dreams. The sun...the surf...the men.” She giggled. “It was a different era.”

      Vanessa’s eyes widened. “What was the town like back then?”

      Lucy folded her hands like a prim schoolgirl, but her eyes held a devilish gleam. “On weekends it was like a mini Hollywood. Lots of stars would drive up the coast from Los Angeles or Beverly Hills. Beautiful women. Gorgeous men. Actors, actresses and directors seeking their escape from the production lot and the photographers.”