own life into stark relief.
So she’d taken matters into her own hands, undergoing a radical makeover. Okay, not entirely radical; it wasn’t as if she’d dyed her hair purple and gotten a nose ring or anything.
But for quiet, reserved Vicki Ahlfors, a chin-length pixie haircut and a closet of new cleavage-revealing blouses and dresses were pretty darn drastic. By the slew of new male clients Petals had garnered over the past week, the results of her transformation could not be denied.
She was Wintersage’s hot new item.
“Whatever,” Vicki said with a snort.
She had definitely caught the eye of several men around town, but instead of being flattered, Vicki found herself just a tad pissed off. She’d lived here her entire life. Why in the heck had it taken a makeover for all of them to finally notice her?
Despite the umbrage she’d taken over her admirers’ obvious shallowness, Vicki wasn’t entirely blind to the romantic opportunities that her newfound popularity had created.
There was just one problem: not a single one of the men who had come calling in the past week held an ounce of appeal. She found their overaggressiveness off-putting, and for the few who’d strolled into her flower shop as if they were God’s gift to the female population, Vicki had taken great pleasure in knocking the wind out of their overinflated egos.
Talk about egos! What about her own? After all her bellyaching over being single, she now had the nerve to play hard to get.
“Damn right,” Vicki said.
Not only did she refuse to settle for the first guy who walked into her flower shop and offered to buy her a dozen roses, but she planned to make sure that any man she dated was worthy of her precious free time. Life was much too short to waste it on a relationship that was going nowhere. She wanted to find what Sandra and Janelle had both found.
So why are you still dragging your feet?
Setting down the shears, Vicki walked over to her laptop and flipped it open. Inhaling a fortifying breath, she logged on to the online-dating profile she’d created after she’d got home from Sandra’s wedding this past weekend. The message sitting in her inbox seemed to pulse with a life of its own. She’d read over it at least a dozen times since it had arrived, had attempted to hit Reply more than once. Yet there it sat, staring at her, goading her into donning the new, confident, vivacious mantle she was determined to wear.
The new Vicki.
Was she really going to take this step? As popular as online dating had become, Vicki could never bring herself to try it. She’d held steadfast to the romantic notion of meeting her Prince Charming the old-fashioned way. They were supposed to spot each other across a crowded room, fall madly in love, start a family and live happily ever after.
Blah. Blah. Blah.
The old-fashioned way hadn’t worked for her. The old-fashioned way had her still single, while her two best friends were now both married and living their happily ever afters. She was done waiting for things to happen the old-fashioned way.
Especially after accepting the harsh reality that the one man she’d been waiting on—the one whom she’d carried a torch for so much longer than she would ever admit to anyone but her own foolish heart—would apparently never see her in that way.
A dull ache settled in her chest, but Vicki quickly tamped down the gloominess before it could take hold.
She was done pining for what would never be. It was time to move on.
Ignoring what felt like a million butterflies flittering around in her stomach, Vicki replied to the date request from a handsome E.R. doctor who, according to his profile, was an attending physician at Tufts Medical Center in Boston. The moment she hit Send, a weight seemed to lift from her shoulders.
There. That hadn’t been so bad. And it was yet another step on her journey to finding the new Vicki.
Maybe she should give her new journey a name—something along the lines of The Reinvention of Vicki?
She rolled her eyes as she closed the laptop.
That was something the old Vicki would do. The new Vicki would not be so lame.
The rumbling of a truck engine had her dashing toward the front door. All morning she’d been anticipating the arrival of the Christmas tree she’d ordered. It was the final piece required to transform the bottom floor of the Victorian into the picture-perfect New England seaside Christmas escape.
Vicki stepped out onto the gabled front porch and stopped dead in her tracks.
“What is this?” She pointed to the truck bed. “I ordered a twelve-foot Fraser fir. This tree isn’t even eight feet.”
“This is what they gave me, lady,” the deliveryman replied in a thick Boston accent. He rounded the truck and pulled the tree out by its thin trunk.
Vicki shut her eyes against the thumping that instantly started up at her temples. With a full slate of projects lined up, hassling over the tree farm’s obvious mistake was exactly what she did not need today.
But she’d had her heart set on that Fraser fir. She’d purchased the most amazing hand-painted ornaments from a gift shop on Main Street, along with a crystal tree topper that would bring the entire ensemble together.
Dammit, she’d paid for that Fraser fir, not this scraggly little pine that looked as if it was a reject from A Charlie Brown Christmas school play.
The old Vicki would just accept the tree and move on. The new Vicki wasn’t standing for it.
She stomped down the porch steps and blocked the deliveryman’s path. “Sir, would you please bring this...this thing,” she said, pointing to the tree, “back to the lot and return with the tree I ordered?”
“Come on, lady. A tree is a tree.”
Vicki folded her arms over her chest. “I want the tree I ordered,” she annunciated in a clipped tone.
The man let out a grunt. He shoved the tree back onto the truck bed and mumbled something unintelligible under his breath.
“Thank you,” Vicki said with a curt nod. She marched up the steps and walked inside, closing the door behind her. She fell back against it, covering her hand with her chest.
“Holy crap,” she breathed. A grin curled up the corners of her lips. “I think I’m going to like the new Vicki.”
* * *
Vicki buried her chin deeper into her scarf as she braced herself against the brisk wind coming off the water. She could have taken her car, but with the Quarterdeck so close to Silk Sisters, it felt unnecessary, even in the misty, frigid weather. Besides, she could not fully appreciate the holiday decorations adorning the businesses on Main Street from behind the wheel of her car. Even the shops that were closed—now that the tourist season was over—were bedecked with festive lights.
She entered the Quarterdeck and headed straight for the table she, Sandra and Janelle usually occupied.
“Sorry
