To Catch a Leaf (4 page)

“This really doesn't sound like a stalking situation, Lottie. I'll bet the man sending her flowers is married and doesn't want his wife to find out.”

“Well, then he's a philanderer,” Lottie said, folding her arms over her ample bosom.

“But he's a paying philanderer,” I reminded her.

“I still don't like it,” she said. “It doesn't pass the sniff test.”

I took the stack from her hand. “Tell you what. I'll deliver the new order so I can check out the situation.”

Simon jumped up on the table to see what was happening, nearly scaring Lottie pinkless.

“Lordy, where did he come from?”

Simon rubbed up against her hand, then sat directly between us, Zen-like, with his eyes half closed, soaking up our energy.

“This is Simon, Nikki's cat. I had to bring him with me because the injured kitty is recuperating at the apartment, and Simon doesn't play well with other felines.”

“Well, hello, Simon,” Lottie said, patting his head as though he were a dog. Simon ducked after the third pat and jumped off the table.

“Did I hear correctly that Simon will be our shop cat?” Grace asked, slipping through the curtain. She was an inveterate eavesdropper.

“I hope neither of you mind Simon being here,” I said. “I really had no choice—unless one of you wants to keep him for a while.”

“Sadly, my landlord doesn't allow pets,” Grace said, without looking terribly aggrieved.

“I'd let Simon stay with me, sweetie, but our Labrador doesn't play well with felines either. Now, show Gracie your gorgeous engagement ring.”

I held out my hand for Grace to admire. “Oh, Abby, it's lovely, isn't it? Not too small and certainly none too large, either.”

Was that supposed to be a compliment?

At once, the phone rang and the bell over the door jingled. “I'll go see to the customers,” Lottie said. “You get the phone, Abby.”

I dashed across the workroom and picked up the receiver on my desk. “Bloomers Flower Shop. How may I help you?”

“Abigail, where were you this morning?” my mom asked. Obviously it was recess time at school. “I've tried to reach you several times.”

“I just got in, Mom. I found an injured cat and took her to the vet.”

“That was kind of you, honey. You always had a soft spot for animals. Over the years, how many did you bring home with you that we had to find homes for?”

A lightbulb went on over my head. My parents had been without a pet for years. I knew Dad would enjoy having company during the day. He had been forced to retire from the police department after a drug dealer's bullet put him in the hospital and surgery to repair his leg put him in a wheelchair. He'd learned to use crutches to get up and down stairs to a limited degree, but otherwise he stayed close to home. A sweet little cat would be perfect for him.

“Too many to count. Listen, Mom, this poor little tabby has a broken leg and no home. I don't want to turn her over to the animal shelter, so do you think you could adopt her? I'd take her myself, but Simon won't share his turf. She's a real cutie, Mom, and Dad might enjoy the comp—”

“Abigail, recess is only fifteen minutes long. I just called to say I'll be there right after school to drop off my latest art. We'll talk then.”

The tone of her voice wasn't reassuring. “Okay, Mom. Bye.”

“Hey there, beautiful,” a deep male voice said near my ear as a pair of strong arms surrounded me. My heart skipped a beat as I turned and smiled into the face of my beloved.

“Hey, yourself, Salvare,” I said, winding my arms around Marco's neck. “You're a welcome sight. After the morning I've had, I sure could use a kiss.”

“Happy to oblige.” He tilted his head to meet my lips. There was nothing wimpy about anything Marco did, and that applied to his kisses, too. He pulled me against him, and I melted into his arms, feeling all my stress flow right out of my body. But right in the middle of our smoking-hot kiss, Simon launched himself onto the desk, and from there leaped onto Marco's shoulders.

“Simon!” Before he could dig his claws into Marco's flesh, I grabbed the cat and placed him on the floor. “Bad boy!”

“What's Simon doing here?” Marco asked, reaching down to scratch him behind the ears.

I told him the tale of my morning misadventure with the tabby cat as I gathered my tools and stems and started to work on the next order. “And if all that wasn't traumatic enough, my mom is bringing over a new piece of art after school today, Lottie is convinced one of our customers is a stalker, and your mom is still in town. By the way, I can't wait for you to explain that one. So all in all, I've had a very trying time, and it's not even noon.”

Marco pulled out one of the wooden stools at the worktable and perched on it. He was wearing a long-sleeved black T-shirt with a white stripe down one arm and a Down the Hatch logo on the back, a pair of slim-fitting blue jeans, and black boots. I loved how the black T-shirt emphasized his dark, wavy hair and chocolate-colored eyes. “Tell me about the stalker.”

“Sure thing, right after you tell me why your mom is still in town.”

“Sunshine, given the morning you've had, let's save it for when you're in a better mood.”

I ruffled his hair. “How sweet that you want to protect me from further trauma, Marco. But now that you've made it clear my mood will have to improve before I can handle the information, after which my mood will undoubtedly go downhill again, could you just get this over with?”

Marco sighed. “My mom and my sister, Gina, want to throw you a wedding shower.”

“Is that so bad? But let's not refer to it as
my
shower. I'm not going through this alone, remember? Did you remind your mom that our wedding isn't until September?”

“As I recall, she was in the room when we made the announcement.”

“That doesn't mean she was listening. I love your mom, Marco, but she does like to talk. So you'd better explain to her again that there's no need for her to stick around town now since any prewedding activities won't take place for months.”

Marco took my hand, palm-side up, and kissed the tender flesh in the middle, knowing full well it was one of my erotic zones and, as such, tended to melt my resistance. “Here's a better idea. She wants to have dinner with us at the bar, so come down right after you close up and we can tell her together.” He kissed my palm again, then glanced up with a guileless smile.

When was this day going to get better?

CHAPTER THREE

“O
kay,I'll be there after I close the shop,” I said with a sigh.

“Great.
Now
tell me about the stalker,” Marco said, folding his arms over his chest.

“Hold on a minute while I get more flowers. I can work while I talk.” I was the Rachael Ray of the flower industry.

I opened the cooler and stepped inside to survey my stock of flora. I emerged a few moments later with a beautiful peach calla and two handfuls of fragrant basil leaves. I liked using herbs, such as dill, parsley, rosemary, and basil, whenever possible and always kept them on hand.

“Lottie believes one of our customers is a stalker,” I said as I trimmed the stems with my floral knife, “because he's been sending anonymous bouquets to a woman renting the Donnelly place. But she doesn't seem to mind getting them, so my guess is that this so-called stalker is sending the arrangements behind his wife's back.”

“Is he someone from around here?”

“We don't know. He drops money through the mail slot, calls in his order, and won't leave a name. He seems to know how much to pay, too, so he's either looking up floral arrangements on the Internet, or he's a florist, too, and doesn't want the flowers traced back to his own shop.”

Marco scratched his chin. “He doesn't sound like a threat, but I'd feel better if we could get his name. Do you have his phone number so I can trace it?”

“No.”

“Then see if you can get him to tell you his name and number the next time he calls.”

“I don't think this guy wants to be found out, Marco.”

“Sunshine, I have every confidence in you. You're a pro when it comes to being . . . inquisitive.”

“You paused before you said inquisitive.”

“Nope.”

“Yes, you did. You were going to say nosy, weren't you?”

His mouth curved up at one corner as he pulled me into his arms for another kiss. “Keep me apprised of the situation, okay? I've got to get down to the bar to let the electrician in.”

The curtain parted and Grace entered the workroom, only to stop short when she saw us entwined. “So sorry. I wasn't aware you had company. Hello, Marco.”

“Hi, Grace,” Marco said with a nod. “You're looking well today.”

She patted her hair. “Well, it's a wonder, isn't it, as busy as we've been. But I do thank you for saying so.”

The sixtysomething Brit had on a tailored khaki dress, belted at the waist to show off her slender figure, and sensible brown pumps. Her short silver hair, cut in layers, showed off the elegant lines of her face. Grace had been a legal secretary at Dave Hammond's law office, where I'd clerked during my only year in law school. She had retired just before I bought Bloomers and was so bored at home that it hadn't taken much to coax her into work for me.

Putting her in charge of the newly opened coffee-and-tea parlor had been a stroke of genius. Grace was not only a pro when it came to brewing gourmet coffee and tea, she was also a skilled baker, turning out the most delicious scones in town, with a different flavor every day of the week. From the heavenly aroma in the shop, I was betting today's flavor was cinnamon.

“Abby, if you don't mind, I'd like to take the one o'clock hour for my lunch. I promised my friend Connie I'd meet with her today, and since I'll be busy this evening, lunch it must be.”

“Got a hot date with Richard tonight?” I asked.

“Just our bowling league night,” she said.

Richard Davis was a tough, old-time Texas businessman who favored string ties, cowboy boots, and ten-gallon hats and didn't take guff from anyone. His favorite mode of transportation was a 1971 big-finned, fire engine–red Cadillac Eldorado that made most of the men in town drool.

A recent widower, Richard had moved to New Chapel after his only son had settled here. Deciding it was time to retire, he'd sold his successful Texas roadhouse and land holdings; then, like Grace, he had found himself with too much time on his hands. He'd purchased an old bowling alley and miniature golf course and built a modern recreation center around them. Now he had a small sporting empire that employed more than one hundred people.

Grace had met Richard last summer while bowling with her league, and they'd been constant companions ever since. I suspected Richard wanted to marry her, but she seemed to value her independence too much.

“One o'clock is fine with me, Grace,” I said. “I'm going to get this order finished and take it out to the Donnelly—” I heard a scratching sound and paused.

Marco and Grace heard it, too. They turned toward the coolers to listen.

“Where's Simon?” Marco asked.

“He must have slipped inside the cooler when I had the door open.” I pulled open the thick, insulated door, and Simon raced out and gave himself a shake. Bits of greenery were stuck to his whiskers.

I glanced inside the cooler and saw shreds of feathery fern fronds all over the floor. “Bad boy!” I said sharply, closing the door. “You're not supposed to chew my inventory!”

He stopped grooming his hind leg to give me a look that said,
Serves you right for locking me in an igloo.

“Stay out of the cooler, Simon,” I scolded.

He spotted a glass bead on the floor and pounced on it, batting it under the worktable.

“Save your voice, love. He's simply being a cat,” Grace said. “As Stephen Baker once said, ‘Cats' hearing apparatus is built to allow the human voice to easily go in one ear and out the other.'”

“Who's Stephen Baker?” Lottie asked, sticking her head through the curtain. “And why am I working both rooms alone?”

“There are actually three possible answers to your first question,” Grace said, following her through the curtain, “and one answer to your second. First, there was Stephen Baker, the U.S. representative in the eighteen hundreds—”

“Grace is a human Wikipedia,” I said to Marco.

He gave me another kiss. “I'll see you after work.”

Simon saw Marco head for the curtain and galloped after him. I caught him before he could escape. “You can't go with Marco. How about some food?”