Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 108862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Yes, of course I go over and say hi. Why wouldn’t I? I’m not an animal.
But this time, I go without a welcome basket.
Or a toolbox to tame a yard full of scattered tools.
Or papaya.
She’s moving in with her two twenty-something sons. Both of them adorable in their own ways. One kind of sporty. The other intellectual. Both of them helpful and courteous. Friendly. Bright as can be. The perfect kind of neighbors.
I can’t fucking stand them.
“Is it weird?” asks Cash when I make it into the flower shop and instantly dump the news on the first set of ears I can find: his. “Having new people next door? Saying goodbye to the Valdezes?”
Goodbye to all but one of them.
One I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye to.
“Let’s get busy,” I say, suddenly not wanting to talk about it.
Cash doesn’t push it further.
Today is just about as crazy as yesterday was. We had no time to recover. I’m already out of certain stock, but it doesn’t seem to deter anyone at all from buying whatever the heck their heart (or Nadine’s secret directive, I’m still convinced) desires. Cash and I maintain our routine that seemed to work yesterday: him at the register, me in the throng of chatty women, some of whom appear to have shown up just to talk with each other or catch up. I always wondered what there can possibly be to catch up on when you live in such a small town and see each other every damned day.
Much later, when there’s only about three women left in the store, the door opens, and for whatever reason, the glass flings the early evening sunlight right into my eyes. I’m still blinking it away when the figure of a suited man comes into view.
Handsome. Maybe in his fifties. Goatee.
I know him.
But I don’t know how I know him.
When his eyes meet mine across the store, a kind and familiar smile spreads over his face. “Mr. Callahan,” he greets me, strolling calmly over. “What a pleasure it is to see you again.”
It’s been a long day already, and I’m still combing the filing cabinets of my tired brain as I stammer out, “Y-You too, sir.”
He picks up on my confusion right away. “Perhaps I’d be more recognizable with my sweet niece clinging to my leg.” He winks at me. “Oh, by the way, she still has that lovely flower you gave her by the elevators.”
Little niece. Elevators.
It clicks. “Bellamy Events,” I say with a snap. “Yes, of course! Wow. I’m so sorry for not recognizing you right away.”
“To be fair, all I did was press an elevator button,” he says.
I smile. “You were so kind and helpful to me that day … when I really needed it.”
“Was I? Total accident, I swear.”
I laugh at that. Then his name resurfaces. “Joseph, right?”
“Joseph, it is.” He extends a hand. “Nice to formally meet you. Though I will say, the most interesting people I’ve ever met were in elevators.” He peers around, maintaining a pleasant smile. “This is a cozier shop than I was expecting.”
“It’s a bit small,” I agree.
“No, not what I meant. Cozy is healing. Cozy is loving. Cozy is comfort. And what are flowers, but for healing, love, and comfort? Tell me …” He faces me suddenly. “Do you remember what flower you gave my niece that day? The name of it?”
I have to think way back to Grant’s order. “Waxflower … Pink waxflower.”
“She calls it her ‘fairy flower’.”
I chuckle. “That’s ten shades of adorable right there. And I can see it. Tiny little starry things scattered all over branching stems. They also have this sort of citrusy scent …”
“They sure do.”
I smile. “I hope things improved for her at school with the … um … mean girl situation.”
“Oh, they have. I had a word. Since her … parents … weren’t so effective. Sometimes, you’ve gotta send in the gay uncle to do the straight couple’s job.” We both chuckle. “No one’s going to trouble my little niece again. She’s getting along far better now. Actually, that’s why I’m here.” He nods at me. “I’m throwing her a little no-occasion-needed slumber party, inviting all her friends, and … I’ll be needing some more of those fairy flowers. As in … a lot more.”
“That’s so sweet! She’ll love that. Wait. How old is she again?”
“Seven.”
“Oh, no.”
He lifts his eyebrows. “Oh, no?”
“You said seven. Now I have ideas.”
He smiles. “Alright, let’s hear them.”
I don’t wait. “Okay, so we can make bouquets out of waxflower, maybe to give to each of her guests when they arrive …”
“Love it.”
“Waxflower is actually quite inexpensive and more often used as filler, so we’ll need to make it the star of the show. You said she calls them fairy flowers, so … I could dress up the bouquets with iridescent butterflies, magical sprigs, unicorn ribbon …”