Slightly jaded middle-aged woman with a hint of bitterness. That's me, Florence.
Twenty-four years ago, I did the rumpy-pumpy in the back seat of Darren's dad's car. Nine months later... well, you know how it goes.
All things considered, my life turned out pretty good. But then Darren messed up. I walked in on him, dressed as a tiger, about to shag a unicorn. (I'll explain that part later.)
So, I took our cat, Oscar (the Grouch), and moved to a small town called Rainbow Valley, where it sounded like only good things ever happened. I wanted to start over and find myself. I even bought a quaint little tea shop with the divorce money.
The journey hasn't been all red roses and yellow tulips, though. My daughter, Aimee, will vouch for that. She's had to come to my rescue a few times. And don't even get me started on Tom Apperley, the ex-vet (veterinarian, not veteran) who owns the dog grooming business next to my shop.
There were some hard truths...
