One Wish

  “She’s an athlete, you dope,” he said to no one in the bar.

  “Who’s an athlete?” Sarah Cooper asked, just coming in the door. She shook off her slicker.

  “Jesus, you scared me to death!” he said. “Where’s the baby?”

  “Finally sleeping. Ham’s babysitting.”

  “Sarah, Ham’s a dog.”

  “Best babysitter there is, trust me. He’s barely left her side since the day she was born. Don’t worry—she’s in the crib and the bedroom door is closed, but I trust Ham more than most humans. And I only came over for a second. You should close the bar. You’re wasting your time out here. This deluge isn’t exactly welcoming customers. Is there anything you need before you go? Besides to finish your beer?”

  “I’ll just make a quick phone call, maybe take a couple of little pizzas from the cooler—I have a date tonight, I hope. Thanks, I think you’re right. No one has come in since two.”

  She grinned at him, looking at the laptop. “Get your homework done?”

  “I sure did,” he said. “And it was a load, too.”

  “Thanks for helping out, Troy. Stay dry.” She pulled the hood of her slicker over her head and went out the back door.

  He picked up his phone. “Gracie,” he said. “Thanks to the weather, I’m closing up early. Would you like me to bring you dinner?”

  “I cooked! I cooked, hoping you would come here for dinner!”

  “Your kitchen is the size of my closet. What did you cook?”

  “Crock-Pot chili. A brick of cheddar and crackers. If I had a fireplace up here, it would be perfect.”

  It’s already perfect, he thought. “I’ll be there in a little while. It sounds great.”

  He wasn’t going to tell her what he knew. He decided right then, he was going to wait for her. When she was comfortable, when she trusted him to know that part of her life, when she finally confided in him, he might tell her he’d known for a while. Might.

  * * *

  A week later, when Troy was just packing up his papers to take home, he caught a flash of color out of the corner of his eye and turned to see Iris leaning in his classroom doorway. She was wearing a sly grin. “I saw you and Grace at the basketball game last night,” she said.

  “We said hello,” Troy said, frowning slightly, not understanding.

  “I was too busy in the concession stand to chat, but not too busy to notice.”

  “Notice what?” he asked.

  “You are officially completely over me.”

  He smiled and put his papers in his backpack. “I’m over you,” he said. “I hope you’re not offended. You are married, after all.”

  She walked toward him. “I saw the way you looked at Grace. I was glad you and Grace were hanging out, but it’s a lot more than that. Troy, this makes me happy. Grace is wonderful and I love her. And you’re one of my best friends.” Then she laughed. “There’s the final proof! You didn’t wince when I called you a best friend!”

  “There’s a lot more to Grace than meets the eye,” he said, zipping the backpack.

  “I think you’re falling in love, Troy.”

  “Easy, Iris. That’s a powerful diagnosis. And I don’t think you can make it.” He picked up the backpack. “My complexion has cleared up, that’s all.”

  She laughed at him. “I hear the hearts of dozens of sixteen-year-old girls breaking.”

  “Don’t even joke about that,” he said, suddenly very serious. “That could be a world of trouble a teacher doesn’t need.”

  “Oh, Troy, you haven’t had a problem in that area, have you? No one’s making you nervous, I hope.”

  He didn’t want to explain the situation with Grace, that her questions on this issue combined with what he thought he’d learned from his research brought the whole thing closer to the surface of his thinking. “No, not at all, it’s just that it’s a real slippery slope, that relationship. Sometimes I’m afraid to make even the most innocent joke. Know what I mean?”

  “Listen, your behavior has always been above reproach, but if you’re ever worried about the smallest gesture or comment, come to me immediately. Don’t take a chance on seeing where it goes. We don’t fool around with that stuff.”

  “Good. That’s good to know because—” He ran a hand around the back of his neck. “I read an article over the weekend about a coach whose life was nearly destroyed by accusations of impropriety with a youngster and she wasn’t even in the same city at the time. It filled me with cold dread. Made me think way too much.”

  “I understand. I get the willies about similar situations in counseling now and then. All I have to do is hear about a terrible counselor, one who does grave damage, and I don’t sleep for a couple of nights. But if you’re not facing any problems, try to relax and be yourself. The kids love you. And you’ve been consistently great with boundaries. And now you’re in love on top of everything else.”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Iris,” he said, but he smiled when he said it. “I’ve only been seeing Grace for a couple of months.” He was suddenly aware that he’d dated Iris for months, thought they were a perfect couple and yet had never uttered those three important words. “When did you know you loved Seth?” he asked, suddenly curious.

  “When I was about four, but he was busy playing the field all through high school. Since he never noticed me as anything more than a buddy, an outfielder or tutor, I hated him.”

  “You’re married to him. I guess you got that straightened out.”

  “Yeah,” she said a little wistfully. “Luckily.” She collected herself. “Well. If you can be half as happy as I am, you won’t know what to do with yourself. Want to go get a beer?”

  “I can’t,” he said. “I’m going to mind the flower shop while Grace meets with some couple about their wedding flowers. Grace has Justin doing some deliveries but no steady part-time help yet. It’s just Grace, sometimes closing the shop to deliver flowers, unless I can help her.”

  “She told me. We talked about student help for her, but it’s kind of late in the year to start any kind of work-study situation. I posted an after-school help position on the bulletin board, but...”

  “I hope something turns up for her. Hey, tomorrow I’ll be out at Cooper’s—come on out. I’ll treat. Bring Prince Charming. I’ll even buy him a beer.”

  “You’re on,” she said.

  Troy drove to the flower shop, parked in the alley right behind the Pretty Petals van and went in the back door. Grace was finishing the creation of an arrangement at her big messy worktable, but he didn’t care. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her against him, kissing her hard.

  “Troy, stop it, I’m filthy.”

  “I know. Filthy is good. We can get a little filthy later if you feel like it.” He picked up her hand and looked at the green and brown fingers, ick under her nails. “Jeez, this is ugly work. Who knew? You’d think working with flowers would be more attractive. Are you sending me home after I help here?”

  “Do I ever send you home?”

  “What do you want to do for dinner?”

  “I grabbed one of Carrie’s meals from the deli—teriyaki chicken, rice, asparagus and cheesecake. Will that do it for you?”

  He kissed her neck. “For my first meal. Then I’m having you.”

  She laughed, pushing him away. “I have to run upstairs and scrub up a little bit,” she said, taking off the green apron. She hung it on the hook by the door. “If the Jackson-Paulson couple comes in before I’m back, just put them in my office, will you? I’ll be right back.”

  “Sure,” he said. When she’d gone upstairs, he looked around at the mess. Miss Gracie had had a busy day at the flower shop. The big worktable and floor were covered with clippings, stems, florist’s foam, tape, all manner of rocks and a
couple of glue guns. He put her arrangement in the cooler, picked up the glue guns and swept off the debris on the table onto the floor. The second he’d done that, he realized he was an idiot. Now the rocks and in some cases what looked like flattened marbles pinged around the floor. If he wasn’t pretty quick with a broom, someone could break a hip.

  He immediately started sweeping a path away from her office door. It could be unpleasant if her customers fell and broke their backs. He was quick about it. He liked it when Gracie thought he was the perfect man and really didn’t want to expose himself as just another stupid guy who didn’t think.

  It didn’t take him long to have a nice pile of trash between the back door and the cooler. Just in time, too. The bell on the door tinkled and the couple came in.

  “It’s just bullshit, Janet. We don’t need all this,” a man’s voice said.

  “Maybe I need it,” the woman said, her voice watery. “I haven’t asked too much and I work for every dime.”

  “You want a house?” he asked meanly.

  “Yes, but not a new truck!” she threw back.

  “You want a baby?” he flung.

  “When we can afford it, but I don’t want to just skip the wedding! I know you don’t care, but I care! My mother cares!”

  “Then your mother should pay for it!”

  “You know my mother has nothing!”

  “And that’s what we’re going to have! Nothing!”

  “I thought you wanted a wedding?” she said in a near sob.

  “I thought so, too, until I saw the list of things we have to buy! I wanted a band, a keg and a good party! Now I’m buying a goddamned coronation!”

  The back door opened and Grace stepped in looking completely refreshed in a crisp white blouse, a little shine on her lips and her hair brushed. He wanted to eat her alive, gobble her up. “They’re fighting,” he whispered.

  “Happens all the time. Weddings are famous for it.” She looked around. “Oh, Troy, you cleaned up.” She took a closer look at the table and floor. “A little...”

  “You want me to mop?” he asked.

  “No, but thanks. Just mind the front of the store for me, and if someone comes in and needs something, please interrupt me. I can take two minutes while my clients look at pictures, run a sale, get back to them in no time.”

  “I work in a bar, Gracie. I can ring up a sale. If there are price tags.”

  “Everything is priced. Let any calls go to voice mail.” She kissed him real quick on the lips. “Thank you.”

  “You are so hard to wait for,” he muttered under his breath as she walked away. He watched as she approached the tortured couple.

  “Mr. Jackson? Ms. Paulson? Hi, I’m Grace. Would you like to come back to my office and talk about your wedding flowers?”

  “We’re fighting about the wedding,” Ms. Paulson said.

  “Well, I’m here to lessen your wedding tension and help you find very practical and affordable options in the flower department. Don’t worry—looking at pictures of bouquets and arrangements carries no obligation at all. I only want to help. Come with me. Would you like a cup of coffee? Tea? Bottled water?”

  “How about a beer,” the groom said testily.

  “I had to stop stocking beer,” Grace said with a laugh. “Too many stressed-out, drunk grooms left my flower shop! Come right in here, let me get a couple of waters.” She put them in the chairs in front of her desk and when she walked through the workroom to her cooler, she rolled her eyes at Troy, smiling a little.

  Troy went to the front of the store to stand sentry while Grace had her meeting with the bridal couple. She usually met with couples like this at six or later, after work for them, after closing for her. This particular couple had to schedule something a little earlier, so she’d invited them to come at four, which was how Troy got this babysitting job. He positioned himself behind the small counter. There by the computer lay two phones—her personal and her work phone. Everywhere she went, two phones. When the shop was closed and they were together, she rarely answered the work phone. And the personal phone rarely rang. She’d gotten calls twice since they’d been a couple and both times it was Iris.

  He heard her tell the couple to “start with this album.”

  “There aren’t any prices,” the man said.

  “Jake!” the woman said.

  “That’s a reasonable observation and question. Every bouquet and arrangement can be downsized or enlarged, depending on personal taste. For example, see this beautiful arrangement of roses, fern and calla lilies? I had a bride want a much smaller version of this with just the dusty miller and lilies plus a little baby’s breath. I’ll be glad to itemize everything with cost per stalk, stem and vase.”

  “I don’t know why we’re making it so fancy,” Jake muttered.

  “It needn’t be,” Grace said. “Small weddings can be elegant, classy and memorable. In your life together there are going to be many moments you’re going to want to capture in pictures. You’ll be amazed when you get to your thirtieth anniversary how many boxes or albums or disks of pictures you’ll have—every camping trip, T-ball game, graduation, every family celebration. One of the first will be the day you marry. It doesn’t have to be any certain kind of wedding, just the one you both want. And done the way you want to remember it.”

  “And there’s the problem,” Jake said. “Janet wants a big fancy wedding and I don’t.”

  “I don’t need a big fancy wedding,” she argued. “I just want it to be beautiful!”

  “Completely doable. When you talk it over, you’ll find a reasonable compromise. I’ll do whatever I can to help with that. I’ve had couples who ordered so many flower arrangements and bouquets I thought I was outfitting the Rose Bowl. There was a recent wedding where the bride and her attendants each carried a single calla lily. The good news is...for a spring wedding literally every flower will be available and the prices will be more reasonable than at other times of the year.”

  “This is beautiful,” Janet said, looking at a photo. “Isn’t this beautiful, Jake?”

  “I bet it cost a fortune,” he snorted.

  “Hmm, if I remember, that wedding ran about twelve hundred dollars.”

  “Are you freaking kidding me?” Jake said.

  “Flowers were very important to that couple, but they didn’t have a fortune. Now, there are ways to bring the cost way down, to less than half of that, and still have a beautiful display. Bows instead of flowers on the ends of the pews, smaller altar arrangements or larger fluffier flowers and table centerpieces, less fussy bouquets for the attendants.”

  “That’s still a lot of money,” he grumbled.

  “When is the happy day?” Grace asked.

  “June twentieth.”

  “Perfect. A great month for flowers and flower prices. And do you have a budget?”

  Just as Janet said six hundred dollars Jake said fifty. Troy made a noise as he tried to cover his burst of laughter.

  “Let me start by asking you to select your favorite wedding photos from this book. It will help if you can come up with at least three you love and figure out why you love them. The particular blooms? The shapes? The arrangement of the flowers? The colors? Once you do that we can find the wiggle room in the ideas and the price, something that better fits your budget. You’re going to buy a lot of flowers in your lifetime, Jake. These flowers are going to live on forever in your wedding pictures. I’m sure you and Janet will find exactly the right ones. I’ll leave you to look through the pictures. Just call me if you have any questions. I’ll be right out front, ten steps away.”

  Troy was smirking as she walked out of the back room to where he stood behind the counter. He put an arm around her waist and whispered in her ear. “That’s not going to work,” he said.

  “Yo
u’d be surprised,” she said. “I think I can handle things if you want to leave.”

  “Nah, I’m not leaving you with this. I think I’ll go get my backpack and start on those papers I have to look through. Then tonight I don’t have to spend all my time on homework.”

  “Let me wipe down the worktable for you.”

  For about twenty minutes the only sound in the shop was the soft murmuring of the bridal couple as they went through the albums. The loud and snappish remarks had stopped but when Troy glanced into the office, they really didn’t appear happy. In a very short time they thought they had selected a few pictures and Grace sat at her desk once more.

  “Very good choices,” she said.

  “I’m sure they’re out of the question,” Janet said. “They’re just too beautiful to be affordable.”

  “Well, let’s see,” Grace said. She sat at her computer and, after looking at one of the selected photos, she went to work. She began to type in numbers. “And how many parents and attendants?”

  “Four parents, six grandparents, two ushers and four bridesmaids and groomsmen. This has been so stressful,” Janet said. “We can’t afford a lot. The reception will kill us if we can’t figure out a way to get our mothers to stop adding people to the guest list!”

  “Happens at absolutely every wedding,” Grace said. Then she turned the screen toward the couple. “Here’s the package you like the best—it includes everything from bridal bouquets to altar arrangements to centerpieces for a reception that seats one hundred and forty. Even flowers for the mothers and boutonnieres for the men are included. The cost is steep—twenty-four hundred fifty dollars.”