Keith brushed off his shirt and soothed Cadbury by scratching his ears before kissing Elly lightly on the forehead. “Did I tell you that you look gorgeous this morning?”
Elly nuzzled his cold nose. “I know that’s a lie, but thank you. So, would you like tea?”
“I would love nothing more than to sit and have tea with you, but I actually have to run. I have to meet a man at nine to talk about sausage.”
Elly smiled. “Coming from anyone else, that would sound very strange.”
Keith sank down slowly on Elly’s couch with a groan. “Remind me to get an air mattress for the next time you get a creepy backpack left in front of your door. No offense, but your floor is not very comfortable.”
Without a word, Elly pointed to her empty couch. Keith shrugged. “Being in front of the door felt more natural. My protective instincts might not be my most logical ones. How are you feeling?”
Elly pondered it for a minute. While her hysteria had been slept off, her paranoia and unease had remained. The morning light was helping, though, and she could see that perhaps her fears had been exacerbated by the late hour. “I’m okay, I think. I still feel a little nervous, but I think I overreacted about the backpack. I can get … a little anxious sometimes.”
Keith tucked a piece of her crazy morning hair behind her ear. “Elly. You are the most important thing in the world to me right now. If you are feeling apprehensive, I will be here for you in a heartbeat. Besides, I don’t like this, either. There is just something peculiar about the whole thing.”
Elly quickly interrupted him. “I think we should look in the backpack.”
Keith looked confused. “What?”
“I didn’t think of it last night because I was….” Elly’s memory flashed to last night, hysterically crying on the phone to Keith. She vaguely remembered saying the words “serial killer” and “hook-handed murderer.” Oh geez. Keith had rushed over to calm Elly down and to make her feel safe in her apartment. He had also brought his famous black-and-white cookies—and that hadn’t hurt either. Elly gave a sigh. “Yeah, I maybe went a little crazy last night.”
Keith stood and pulled on his jacket while trying to kiss Elly repeatedly. “Don’t apologize to me. If you were concerned, then I am too. There is nowhere else in the world I would have rather slept.” He paused, his tired eyes glinting in the morning light. “Except for on an air mattress. I would have rather slept on an air mattress.”
Elly flashed him a look of adoration.
He grinned. “I don’t think that you overreacted last night. You were unnerved by your experience with this kid already, and to come home in the dark and see that—” he gestured to the disgusting backpack sitting on the kitchen table. “You were well within your rights to freak out. I don’t think you have quite enough material to be on Unsolved Mysteries, like you suggested, but I don’t see the harm in the looking through it. At the very least, we’ll satisfy my curiosity.”
Keith and Elly walked cautiously over to the backpack, which was sitting in the middle of the bare table. He sniffed it, his face contorting with revulsion. “Ugh, this smells like an old burrito. Don’t smell it.”
Elly laughed. “Why did you?”
“I have no idea.” Using a napkin, Keith unzipped the pack and turned it upside down. Keith clutched his heart with mock fear as items fell to the table. “What are we expecting here? Duct tape? Rope?” Keith dropped his voice to a melodramatic whisper. “Is it a serrated knife? It’s always a serrated knife.”
Elly gave a frown as she sorted through the items with a wooden spoon. “It’s more like … Pringles. You watch too many crime shows.” There was a variety of strange items in the bag: a pair of crumpled up tighty-whities, two pairs of stonewashed jeans, a half-eaten Snickers bar, two worn magazines that dealt with video gaming, something called a “A Character Guide to Dungeons and Dragons,” a carefully folded picture of Sarah Michelle Gellar, and a much-loved paperback featuring a half-naked woman straddling a dragon. “What in the …?” wondered Elly, glancing at the book with a look of revulsion. “What does this tell us?”
“It tells us that this kid is a huge nerd who only has one pair of underpants.”
“A serial killer nerd with only one pair of underpants,” murmured Elly as she shook the can of Pringles. Half full. Who did that?
Keith straightened up and gave a horrible impression of a detective. “Based on the contents of the backpack, here’s what I would guess: The kid came back for his flowers, and somehow found his way up to your apartment. He knocked. You weren’t here because you were out with Kim at the restaurant.”
“Oh man, those enchiladas were so good,” Elly whispered.
Keith rubbed her cheek with the back of his finger. “Elly, based on this, I think he just accidentally left his backpack here. I’m pretty sure at this point there is nothing to be afraid of.”
She straightened up and looked at the geeky goods spread out on the table. Elly closed her eyes, feeling his finger brush her cheek. “You’re probably right. I’m overreacting. As usual. The sangria might have helped, now that I think about it.”
Keith picked up the book and thumbed through the pages. “Oh, yuck. This book has illustrations.” He turned the novel over. “I didn’t know that trolls were so well-endowed….”
A small piece of paper slipped out of the book and fell onto the table. Elly cautiously slid it down the table and flipped it over with the spoon. It was a worn out family photo, faded and yellow around the edges. A solemn man stared out from the left of the photo, the agitated look jumping off his face, even from behind thick spectacles. His stiff arm draped over the round shoulders of a cheery-looking, voluptuous woman. Her lap was completely swallowed under the weight of a chubby young boy, who was desperately clutching a plastic Millennium Falcon. While the mother and the boy were obviously at ease with each other, the father looked disinterested and distant. Elly pointed to the picture. “I’m pretty sure this is the kid from the store. Same blond hair.”
Keith tilted his head. “Cute family.”
Elly flicked the picture. “Nope. Weird family. Weird kid, weird backpack.” They both stared at the picture in silence, jumping when the kettle blew its long whistle. “Holy crap,” breathed Elly. It’s official, she thought, I have creeped out my boyfriend. There was a moment where she thought about the word boyfriend. It was so bizarre. Boyfriend? Elly Jordan has a boyfriend? What was she, twelve? She had already been married. Why couldn’t there be a better name? Partner? Companion? Lover? She looked down at the couch pillow lying on the floor. Definitely not lover.
Keith handed her a steaming cup of honey chamomile tea, its biscuit-scented goodness filling up the living room. Elly had the sudden urge to kiss him. She reached for him, spilling hot tea down the front of his brown shirt.
“Oh, that’s really hot!”
“Oh, Keith, I’m so sorry! I just wanted to …,” Elly felt a twinge of nervousness. “Never mind, never mind … go meet with your sausage friend.”
“When you say it like that….” Keith leaned over and kissed her gingerly.
She gave him a soft smile, her red lips puffy from sleeping. “Thanks for coming over, for sleeping on the hard floor.”
“Thanks for kissing me, even though I had a dog lick my mouth this morning.”
“Ugh, that’s right. I take it back.”
“Never,” Keith declared. “It’s out there.”
She looked down at the table. “Thanks for touching the gross backpack.”
“And the naked elf book.”
“And the naked elf book.”
“Speaking of which, what should we do with the backpack?” They both stared at the table.
“I’m not touching the underwear,” blurted Elly.
Keith ran his hand across his stubbly chin. “I think we should pack up everything and leave the backpack outside the store. That way, if he comes back to get it, he can just grab it and go. You won’t even have to talk to him.??
?
“What if someone steals it?” She eyed the family picture. “I would hate for that to happen.”
Keith frowned. “Yes, we wouldn’t want someone out there to get away with …,” he unfolded the magazine cutout, “a giant Buffy The Vampire Slayer poster.”
“I think I’ll put it right inside the shop door. That way, if he comes, he can just grab it and get out, and I won’t have to worry about anyone stealing it.”
Keith grabbed his keys and black wallet from the table. “That sounds like a great idea. And Elly,” he turned and faced her full on, his warm breath on her cheek, “you call me the minute he shows up. I’m right up the street, and I will be there in a second.”
“Don’t worry,” reassured Elly. “Anthony will be there, too.”
“What is he going to do, throw his ascot at him?”
Elly smacked him lightly. “Go.”
Keith strode out the door, shutting it softly behind him. The apartment was suddenly silent and Elly looked over at Cadbury, who was lying belly up in the sun. She wandered over to the table and picked up the picture of the family. There was something sad about the picture, something melancholy. Maybe it was the hideous couch in the background. Elly shrugged and ordered herself not to focus on something she obviously had no part of.
It didn’t work. Hours later at the store, she was still thinking about the backpack.
“So, who is it?” asked Anthony, twirling his pen. “Who is our celebrity?”
“Again, I told you, I don’t know.”
“You didn’t get anything in the paperwork?”
“Nope, it just says ‘Celebrity To Be Named.’ It’s all so mysterious and ridiculous all at once. They probably don’t want us talking to the tabloids.” That would be very exciting, actually. Elly loved her tabloids.
“So how does this work, then?” They were sitting at the consultation table, coming up with a plan for the BlissBride interview.
“According to the contract they sent over, we meet with the associate producer Gemma Reynolds, and she interviews us. She takes pictures of the mock-up table and meets with the owner. All that material is sent over to the celebrity client, and she picks which presentation she likes best. Even if we don’t get picked, the photo of our mock-up will still be shown on TV.”
“Sweet.” Anthony nodded. “I can’t believe her theme is pink, navy, and pinstripes.” He grimaced. “That makes my brain hurt. Still, I’m sure we can make it fabulous if we try. What have you come up with, you floral virtuoso, you?”
Elly grinned. “Well, here’s what I’m thinking….” With a pack of expensive colored pencils, she began sketching out low vases overflowing with pale-pink ranunculus, cream parrot tulips, pink-throated cymbidium orchids, gorgeous garden roses, stunning white peonies, and white-and-black anemones.
Anthony looked over her shoulder and whistled. “I have to admit, girl, you’re making that look pretty good.”
Elly leaned back. “My guess is that all the other florists are going to go for big, tall, and explosive. But this wedding ‘theme’ doesn’t’ really call for that. It calls for a sleek feel to go with the pinstripes.”
Anthony twiddled his thumbs. “This will be big. We’ll need help. Are you going to, er, call her?”
Elly bit her lip. “I don’t know who you are talking about.”
“Glitter thongs. European half shirts. Teal eye makeup. Excellent design instinct.”
Elly sighed as she colored in fuchsia-striped dahlias. “Yes, yes. I’ll call her. But I’m not going to grovel. She’s the one who stomped out of here with a stick up her….” She turned to Anthony. “Forget it. Would we be in season for gay paree peonies?”
He retreated behind the desk. “Researching now.”
Elly stretched her elbows out on the cool table and looked at her sketches. “These look great, but they are almost too girly. Maybe some white or silver organic greenery would draw out the pink.” She illustrated it out before her and sat back with a smile. “Yes. Perfect. Anthony, I have a good feeling about this.”
He looked up from the computer. “Those froufrou peonies are going to about two hundred dollars a bunch.”
“They have no budget.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Holy crap, in that case, then yes. We can get those, lots of them.” Elly set down the silver pencil and stared out her store window. “Maybe …,” Elly paused, running her fingertips over her full lips.
“Maybe what?”
“Maybe if we book the BlissBride wedding, we could perhaps think about opening another store.”
Anthony gave a wide grin. “Seriously?”
“It’s just a thought, nothing more. Please don’t say anything to anyone. I need time to think about it, maybe talk it over with a financial expert.” Herself.
“I won’t, I promise. But, in my opinion, it’s worth considering. You are at the top of your game right now. It’s a great time to expand your business.”
Elly nodded. “Let’s get through the interview first. I need to call Wildflower Linens and see if I can get a pinstripe tablecloth—maybe with raised crystal beading….”
Anthony held up his finger as he picked up the shrill phone on the desk. “Posies, this is Anthony speaking….” He put his palm over the mouthpiece. “It’s your hot sandwich man. Hey, ask him if I can run over and grab a cold cut special.”
Elly winked at Anthony and grabbed the phone. “Hey!”
“Hey, beautiful! How’s it going over there? Did Backpack Boy ever show up?”
Elly looked out the front window. “Nope, no sign of him. Now that it’s daylight and I’m in the store, I’m feeling a little bit like an idiot.” She wound the cord around her wrist, actually feeling more like a sixteen-year-old than anything, swooning at the sweet voice on the other end. “Do you have plans tonight?”
“Only you. What should we do?”
“Well, I would love to finally see your place,” said Elly. “I want to see if you really are a secret hoarder like I suspect. Is it baseball cards? Creepy old dolls?”
Keith laughed and then fell oddly silent. “Not tonight. I told you, I need fair warning to clean for you. I want you to still find me attractive after you see my place.”
Elly smiled. “I’m sure that nothing could ever make you unattractive to me.”
“What if I gained seven hundred pounds?” asked Keith.
“Even then.” Elly laughed. “That reminds me, Anthony wants to know if he can pop over and steal a cold cut.”
“Yup. I’ll start it now. Should I meet you at your place at seven?”
“Sounds great,” said Elly. She paused, carefully weighing the next sentence on her tongue. “Keith, I’d really like to see your place.”
“I know,” said Keith firmly. “You will, I promise. And I swear that I’m not homeless.”
“Okay. I miss you,” whispered Elly.
“I miss you more,” said Keith.
Elly reached out for the yellow wall behind the desk. “You know, I’m only a few walls away.” There was a loud retching sound from the design area as Anthony made a puking motion with a shower of peach sweet peas. “Okay, we’re gross. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Bye.”
Elly hung up the phone and did a little dance. A date tonight, with Keith. In the short time they’d been dating, he had taken her to the St. Louis Zoo, on a riverboat tour, and to the famous Blueberry Hill. He always took her on creative, fabulous dates, and there was always a hot session of kissing to look forward to. Grinning from ear to ear and her heart tilting in her chest, Elly walked to the cooler.
“I guess we better design today, huh?” Anthony looked up at her from behind a bucket of periwinkle scabiosa.
Elly cringed. “That, and we have to scrub the floor today, as well as stock the new blue vases. You know, a new store is sounding better and better. If we’re only twirling a piece of grass in a glass tube, that will take a lot less cleaning
.”
Anthony wiped his forehead. “You don’t have to sell me on it. I know you’ll hate me for saying this, but I think you should give her a chance at running the store. I know she’s is only a senior in high school, but she’s more competent than you give her credit for. And trends are changing. You saw the cover of last month’s Floral Trends.”
Elly began gathering a handful of white veronicas and tiny blue bachelor buttons to put into a moss-filled cylinder. She had seen it—a twisted root, a single orchid, a small puddle of water, and the headline, “Floral Design Sees a Hot New Trend.” One by one, she draped the flowers over the container lid. “We’ll see how the TV interview goes. Honestly, Anthony, we probably won’t get on BlissBride and this conversation will all be for nothing.”
Anthony shook his head. “You never know what life will bring your way, Elly Jordan.” He straightened up and wiped his hands on a towel. “Well, time to go get my sandwich from Keith.”
Elly smiled. “Give him my….”
Anthony looked over at her, a smile stretched across his friendly face. “Give him your … love?”
Elly bit her lip and looked away uncomfortably. “Just tell him I said hi.”
Chapter Seven
A week passed, and before Elly could even breathe, the heavy smell of roses seeped out of Posies and onto Wydown Boulevard, leading passersby to sniff the air with curiosity. Elly watched out the front windows as a construction worker took off his hard hat, stuck his nose in the air, and smiled at the mysterious scent. “I’m glad that everyone else seems to be enjoying this.” She looked at her feet with a sigh.
Kim glanced up from the consultation table and burst into loud laughter. “Oh my gosh, what did you do?”
Snarky Teenager, who was still not really talking to Elly after their argument about the new store, walked out of the back room and gave a satisfied snicker. At least she had come in. Elly’s tone of voice had made that clear that it wasn’t a choice. When she used her “owner voice,” people usually listened.