The kid standing before her was growing increasingly nervous as she untangled the Post-it from her bangs. “Sorry about that. I just had an argument with a very talented but unruly teenage worker. We’re not officially open yet, but can I help you?”
As she stood, he raised his head and stared at her. His pimply face was a hardened mask, but his bright-blue eyes took in every inch of her. They bore into her, without flinching, full of judgment and curiosity. She was suddenly unsure of what to do with herself. No one had ever looked at her with so much intensity, not even the men she had loved. Elly felt unreasonably nervous as she walked toward him, taking in his appearance and trying to decipher what this imposing but awkward kid could possibly want in her store. A dirty blond shag hung just over his eyes and a chubby chin jutted forward through his greasy mane of hair.
His mouth barely moved. “Flowers. Uh, I guess.” This was all he said, and then he went back to staring at her. The beginnings of a beer belly protruded out in front of him, barely covered by a filthy black T-shirt that featured a smiley face with a bullet hole in the temple. The pale skin of his knees poked through worn-out jeans, and Elly caught a whiff of something that smelled alarmingly like Cheez Whiz. His grungy hands clung tightly to a neon-orange backpack. He looked like he hadn’t had a shower in weeks. Why is he staring at me like that? She thought. It’s like he wants to murder me.
She smiled kindly at him, hoping to prompt a reassuring reply of some sort. “So, you said you are here for some flowers?”
“Uh, yeah. Flowers would be good.”
“Do you know what kind of flowers you have in mind? We have some fresh mint that just came in that smells absolutely resplendent paired with some pinky-orange anemone….” Elly could tell that he wasn’t listening to her. His eyes stayed glued to her face.
“Whatever. Whatever you think. I have ten bucks.”
Fine. Just get out of my store, Elly thought, you are really freaking me out. Her stomach churned, but she kept a professional smile on her face. Something was wrong with this kid. “Are these for a girlfriend? Do you know what color she likes?”
He shook his head. “No girlfriend.” Is he buying flowers for himself?
“Would you like me to pick something out for you?”
“Yeah. Whatever.” He gave a loud, awkward laugh that ended in a snort.
Elly looked up, alarmed.
He wiped his nose with his sleeve. “Sorry. Yeah, that’s fine.”
She walked over to the cooler and began grabbing a mellow mix of green bells of Ireland, cream gerbera daisies, and chocolate-brown artichokes. Since she didn’t know whom the flowers were for, it was safest to stay neutral. A chill crept up her spine, and she knew without a doubt that she was still being watched. She raised her head out of the cooler and caught the teenager staring at her. “Can I help you with something else?” she asked nervously.
His gaze never faltered as she stared back at him. His jaw clenched and he shook his head. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. There was something alarmingly familiar about him, what was it? Am I about to get robbed? Or worse? Elly willed herself to stand up and look at him. She was terrified, but she couldn’t look away. When she faced him, the kid thankfully dropped his eyes down to the floor again. Elly quickly wrapped the flowers with brown paper and twine before laying them down on the consultation table. “Here you go, that will be….”
The boy threw a ten down on the table and walked swiftly out the door, the bells clanking loudly behind him. Elly was left standing alone in the middle of the store, her hand hovering above the cash register. “Um, okay then.” Feeling unnerved, she deposited the bill before she saw the flowers lying on the table. The boy had forgotten his flowers—and she certainly didn’t want him coming back for them later. Grabbing the bunch, she ran out the door. He was nowhere to be seen. Jogging, she made it about halfway up the long block before her legs cried out in pain. Chubby girls were not meant to run. The kid had disappeared into thin air.
Forget it. Elly was not moving any farther. Flowers in hand, she sank down onto a cement ledge in front of Ada’s coffee house. She needed water. On second thought, hot chocolate didn’t sound so bad right about now. “Shoot.” She threw the flowers down in frustration.
A shadow covered the sidewalk in front of her. “May I ask why you appear to be throwing perfectly good flowers on the ground? Have you had it with your ridiculous boyfriend?” Keith sat down beside her, resting his hand lightly on her knee. “I saw you run by my shop window looking crazy.”
Oh Lord. He’s seen me run. Elly had a humiliating vision of her chest bouncing every direction as she ran up the street, and not in a good way.
He gave a deep laugh. “I’ve never seen you run before. I’m not going to lie—it’s pretty great.”
Elly felt embarrassment stirring deep in her chest. “As you may have noticed, my days in cross-country have long passed.”
Keith ran the back of his finger lightly down her cheek. “Elly. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You were never in cross-country.”
She leaned against his solid shoulder and inhaled. He smelled like pepperoni and garlic today. Heavenly. “Why were you running?”
Her mouth twisted into a frown. “It was the weirdest thing. This kid—well, he was like eighteen, not really a kid—came into the store and just acted so bizarre. He didn’t seem like he wanted flowers—I’m not sure he knew what he was doing there—and he kept staring at me. I mean, really staring. Wouldn’t stop.” She shivered. “He gave me the creeps. There was something oddly familiar about him. When I gave him the flowers, he left them on the table, threw down a ten, and ran out the door. I tried to chase him, but he must have been faster than me. I wanted to make sure he didn’t have a reason to come back.”
Keith grinned, trying to make her feel better. “Well, it wouldn’t be hard to be faster than you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Will you stop?” Keith acquiesced. “Honestly,” Elly whispered, “it was kind of unnerving.”
Concern crossed Keith’s face and his tone immediately went from playful to protective. “Do you really think he was dangerous?”
Elly remembered the intense stare he had given her as she bent over the cooler. The way his icy-blue gaze had furrowed into the side of her face. “I don’t get the feeling that he wanted to harm me. But he seemed very …,” she searched for the right word, “curious. And careful.” She pushed her curly hair back from her face. “He was probably just some kid on drugs. I heard there is a growing drug problem in Clayton.”
Keith and Elly both looked up the street, where two socialite women walked arm in arm, their handbags held loftily as their tiny Yorkies peed on a fire hydrant. They both burst out laughing. “Yes, this seems like a place with a drug problem.”
“Probably a prescription-drug problem.” Keith shook his head.
“Or a Botox problem.”
“They’ve got a lot of problems around here.” Keith pulled Elly toward him, wrapping his meaty arms around her waist. He spoke into the top of her hair. “I’ll keep an eye out. I would never let anything happen to you, not ever.”
Elly’s heart seemed to dissolve in her chest, fizzing up to her brain. She was a little dizzy. Every woman loves a hero, she thought.
“What do you want to do this weekend?” he asked.
Elly looked up at him. “We could go to your place if you want to. I’d love some truly homemade cooking. And to see where you live.”
Keith pulled his head back from her and stared awkwardly at the sky. “Nah, it’s so messy there. I need fair warning before you come over. Plus, I want to see Cadbury.”
“You like the dog more than me.”
He ran his hand down her chin. “Only a little bit. And also, you have cable. Although, I can think of some other things we could do.” His dark-azure eyes sparked mischievously and then he blushed. “Like take Cadbury for a walk. You know, things like that.”
Elly kissed him softly on the lips,
feeling the blush rise up in his face as her hand trailed down his rough cheek. “I love that you love my dog.”
“Elly?”
She kissed him harder. “Mmm … yes?”
“Who is watching your store right now?”
“No one!” groaned Elly. “A certain high-maintenance worker stomped out while screaming at me first thing this morning. Would you like to guess which one? Two hints: it isn’t Kim or Anthony.”
Keith grimaced. “You are having quite the day.”
She bit her lip and looked to the side. Pulling herself away from Keith was getting harder each time. “And it just barely started. I should get back to work. At least Anthony will be in at noon. What am I going to do with these flowers?”
Keith grabbed the bunch. “I can always use them on the counter. These are pretty—what are these alien-pod-looking things?”
Elly smiled. “Chocolate artichokes. Don’t try and cook them.”
Keith smiled. “Actually, you should probably put them back in the cooler, so that when he remembers, you can give them back to him and get him out.”
The thought of being in the store alone with him made Elly ill at ease. “I might call you if he does show up. Is that ridiculous?”
“I’ll be there in half a second. And if he does anything weird, I’ll tackle him.”
The thought of Keith tackling a teenager made Elly snicker. “I would pay to see that.”
Keith stood up and retied his apron around his waist. “I played college ball, you know. Almost went professional bench warmer. I’ll have to tell you about it sometime.” He leaned in and gave her a slow, lingering kiss. With a groan, he pulled back. “Work. We have to go to work.”
Elly smiled. “My place, tonight? Six?”
Keith gave her a thumbs-up. “I’ll be there. And call me if your stalker shows up.”
Elly nodded and practically floated back to her shop. Her thoughts lingered on Keith—his eyes, so kind and smart, the kind of eyes that gave you confidence from just a single, focused gaze, his adorable bald head, and how he always wanted his apartment spotless for her. Or house. Did he have an apartment or a house? Either way, he was the man she had been waiting for all this time. Elly shut the shop door behind her and started setting the table for her afternoon consultation. She began thinking back on the strange teenage kid, admonishing herself for being so paranoid. He was just a weird kid, that’s all. Still, she felt an urge to lock the shop door. She ignored that urge because she didn’t want to go out of business. Bending over, wedding floral books in hand, she heard the clank of the door bells, and felt a shove from behind her knees. Elly gave a shriek.
“Oops, sorry dear!” The two older ladies that she had seen with Keith on the street stood in front of her, their Coach bags clasped in hand, Yorkshire puppies sleeping inside their cozy leather homes. “Oh, lovely! I’m so sorry, we must have scared you. Are you alright? That door clipped you pretty hard.”
Elly gave a sigh of relief. “Sorry about that. I’m unnecessarily jumpy today. Welcome to Posies! What can I help you with?”
The women smiled and looked around. “Well, we came in because of your delightful window display. That was so interesting and modern, but I’m glad to see that the inside is more our style, don’t you agree, Gladys?”
“Why, it reminds me of my dear Aunt Sylvia’s house, you know, the one outside of Provence?”
Elly felt a twinge of annoyance. This store was for middle-age women. She was a middle-aged woman. Snarky Teenager had been right, and if that was true, nothing would ever be right in the world again.
Chapter Five
The idea of a new shop was still bouncing around Elly’s head the next afternoon as she put together a blooming azalea plant for delivery. Anthony, her other head designer was grilling her for details on the fallout with Snarky Teenager. “And then she just stormed out? Just like that?”
“Are you surprised? She’s a flipping banshee.”
He looked confused.
Elly clarified, “Something with a lot of feelings and a very shrill voice.”
He gave her a bemused look. “I’m going to guess by that retelling that you did not win the argument.”
“Well, she left screaming about how my store was old ladyish and that she would not be working today, so I’m not sure that there was a clear winner.”
Anthony perched on a wooden stool and rubbed his thin hair thoughtfully. “I know that she upset you, but you have to remember, she’s only eighteen and she’s not going to think through all her decisions wisely. She’s ruled by hormones.”
“Psycho teenage hormones,” muttered Elly, scribbling a message on a client’s card: “Congrats on your great new BOOBS!” She held up the plant in the sunlight, looking for browning leaves. If this plant was for great new boobs, it had better be flawless.
Anthony cleared his throat. “She looks up to you and Kim. You know she doesn’t have a great home life. Her parents are more worried about their next European vacation than their daughter.”
“That doesn’t excuse rudeness,” replied Elly quietly. “She didn’t even ask to take down my display.”
Anthony nodded, obviously trying to stay neutral, maintaining his role as the wise advisor. “That was very rude, I agree. But do you think she has a point? About opening another store?”
Elly sat down next to Anthony, balancing the heavy pot on her wide thigh. “Maybe. I just … I really don’t know if we could afford it. It would throw Posies’ finances for a loop, that’s for sure. We are perfectly comfortable in the black right now. And do I really want to make my life more complicated?” No, she thought, everything is perfect. For once, everything is good. She didn’t want to rock the boat. Last year had been so emotional, so tangled. Posies was doing great. Elly was doing great. For once, her life was a calm sea. Did she really want to invite chaos in? But a new store … targeted at a younger generation … the thought was becoming more and more appealing the longer she considered it. The fax machine gave a beep, gently jostling Elly out of her train of thought. She gave a shrug and walked over to the machine, glancing at the order. “Romantic arrangement for sixty-five—do you want it?”
Anthony nodded and pulled it out of her hand. “Just give it some thought. And know that you’ll probably have to call her before the day is over. If you don’t act, she’ll be working at Hot Topic within a week, selling fishnet stockings to twelve-year-olds.”
“Right?” Elly was laughing at the thought when the phone rang loudly. “Hey, make sure you use up those fuchsia snapdragons.”
Anthony saluted. “You got it, boss.”
At least someone remembered she was the boss. Elly pulled her hair back into a messy bun as she ran to the phone. She coughed awkwardly as she answered. “Posies, this is Elly speaking.”
“Hello, Elly. My name is Gemma Reynolds, and I’m an associate producer with the television show BlissBride.”
Elly felt as though she received a swift punch to the stomach and suddenly she was very, very hot. Sweat blossomed out from her forehead.
“Um, yes, are you there?”
“Yes. Yes, Jemima, I’m here.”
There was a beat of intense silence. “It’s Gemma, actually.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, sorry.” Elly gave a high, hyena laugh and stopped short. Oh my gosh, Why did I do that? Calm down.
“Right. Elly, we are calling some highly recommended St. Louis vendors to see if your shop would be interested in appearing in a very special St. Louis episode of BlissBride. Are you familiar with the show?”
Are you kidding me? Wednesday nights, after she got back from bible study, she drove up the private driveway to Kim’s house, a bottle of Tintero Moscato D’Asti on the passenger seat. Kim would let Elly put Hadley to bed—the highlight of her week—and then they would curl up on Kim’s couch to watch the most recent episode of BlissBride. The show focused on B-list celebrity weddings, and covered everything from the planning to the big day. The weddings were a
lmost always enormous, and the semifamous brides brought their enormous egos to match. The show reveled in the ridiculous, extravagant details of the wedding (“I just don’t see why it is so hard to get fresh pears covered in gold!” cried a bride on last week’s episode), the vendor meltdowns, and the temper tantrums that were thrown along the way. It was delicious and sinful reality TV, a true guilty pleasure, something that Elly looked forward to every week. So yeah, she was familiar with the show. “Er, yes, I think I might have seen it a couple of times,” Elly lied. She didn’t want to sound desperate. Or did she?
Gemma cleared her throat. “Well, we have a celebrity that, for some reason beyond me, has decided to get married in St. Louis instead of LA or New York, and we are interviewing local vendors to see if they would be interested in participating.”
Elly turned to Anthony, who was standing by her side, snapdragons in hand. She mouthed “BlissBride!” and he began silently freaking out. She forced herself to be calm and in control. “I’ll have to consult with my team first, but I think we would definitely be interested. What would our next step be?” She congratulated herself on staying so professional.
“Well, we interview about three vendors in each category and the vendor that our bride likes best is the one that gets the wedding and the chance to be on national television. We have a viewership of around 1.7 million.”
This is an incredible opportunity, thought Elly, excitedly tapping her hand on the desk. This could be the wedding that puts me on the national map. She cleared her throat. “Well, Jimma, that sounds very interesting. When can we set up an interview? I have Monday open….”
The shrill British voice interrupted her. “We will be doing all our florist interviews next Tuesday. The time is not up for negotiation. We will be there at three p.m. You should have a mock-up of the flowers ready when we arrive and make sure the area is photo-ready. The picture of the mock-up will be used for our bride to make her decision. Her colors are hot pink and navy, with an emphasis on pinstripes.”