Carnations in January (5 page)

Grace snorted. “I can't draw to save my life. But I'll ask my sister, Faith. In fact I'll do it now.”

Elliott smiled and put the take out cup of coffee on the counter for her. “Am I going to be in the way if I fix those shelves up now? Only I'm out this afternoon.”

“That's fine.” She dialed Faith's number. “Going anywhere nice?”

“Football.”

“I'll have to disagree with you on that one. Football and nice don't exactly belong together—and definitely not in the same sentence.” The ends of her mouth tilted upward as his eyes widened.

“How can you not like football?” He gave a sad shake of his head and headed towards the door. “I'll just bring them in.”

Grace returned to the phone as she heard her sister answer. “Hey, Faith, it's me.”

“Hi, Grace. No, I still can't work with flowers.”

She laughed. “I wasn't going to mention that, but I do have a favor to ask.”

“Oh?”

“I need a new name and logo for the shop. And you draw way better than I do.”

“What's wrong with the name?”

“I don't know. It's just a little corny.”

“Rubbish, the shop name is fine, called after the street it's in. And it could be worse. I mean, the hairdresser that just opened here is called Curl Up and Dye. Then there's the pawn shop called Rich Pickings. There's a pie shop called Sweeney Todd, though why anyone wants to eat there is beyond me. The baker shop is called…”

“OK, OK, I get it. But I do want a logo. The girls want uniforms, and Elliott suggested a new sign outside.”

“Who's Elliott?” Faith dropped the disinterested tone, and Grace could almost see her sister's ears prick up.

“He's the bloke next door, and he's a builder. He's here putting up my new shelves.”

“Uh huh.”

Grace turned her back on her grinning employees. “Don't you
uh huh
me,” she hissed. “Can you do me a logo or not?”

“Sure. Hey, you could always rename the shop a Bunch of Fives instead of a bunch of flowers. Or sell coffee and pies on the side and call it Floral and Hearty.”

“OK, stop now before your jokes get any worse. We'll stick to Carnation Street. How soon can you have it to me?”

“I'll do it now and e-mail you something this afternoon. How's that?”

“Brilliant, thank you. And bill me for your time, as well.”

“Oh, pssht. I'll do no such thing. Home e-mail or work e-mail?”

“Work…oh yeah, you're right, better not change the name because that will be wrong then. As will the website.”

“You have a website?”

“Kind of. It's just a page at the moment, but I'm going to work on it. Give me something to do tomorrow.”

“You should go to church tomorrow, not be working,” Faith scolded her.

She sighed, turning as the bell over the door chimed. “Not you, as well. Honestly, you and Elliott both sing the same tune. I have to go, there's a customer just come in. Speak soon. Bye.” She hung up and smiled at the customer. “Hi, can I help you?”

“I need to send some flowers to Scotland. Can you do that?”

Grace nodded. “Sure we can.” She reached under the counter and pulled out the book. “Did you have something special in mind?”

The girl shook her head. “It's my mother's birthday, and she loves flowers. But I'm a student, and I don't have much money.”

Grace slid the book away, an idea forming in her mind. “In that case, what's her favorite flower?”

“She loves carnations…”

Grace caught Elliott's grin. “She's not the only one. What's your limit?”

“Fifteen pounds, but that has to include the postage as well.” The girl hopped from foot to foot looking convinced she was going to be sent away or laughed at.

What was it with the carnations? Grace didn't need to think twice. “I can do you twenty carnations, including delivery for twelve fifty.”

Amazement covered the girl's face. “Really?”

Grace nodded. “Really. Where in Scotland do they need to go?”

“Perth.”

“No problem. All I need is the address and message and we're set.”

The girl gave the address. “Just put ‘Happy birthday Mum, from Ally' on the card.” She handed over the money. “Thank you.”

Grace smiled. “You're welcome. They'll be there by four this afternoon.” She watched the girl leave the shop and pulled over the phone book for the number for the Perth florist.

Mandy looked at her. “You didn't charge her delivery.”

“I know, but I was a student once.” She tossed Mandy the phone. “Do the order for me. I'll pay the delivery myself.”

“You're a good woman, Grace Chadwick,” Elliott said.

“Tell me that when I'm making a loss,” she quipped.

He chuckled. “I will do. So, will you come to church with me tomorrow?”

“You don't give up do you?” She sighed. “I'm beginning to think this is a conspiracy. My sister said the same thing on the phone just now.”

Elliott grinned. “No conspiracy. Do your parents go?”

“Yeah, they all do.” The wind howled outside, sending rain pounding against the windows. The huge oak tree outside creaked. Grace shivered. “It's really nasty out there. Does the sun ever shine here? It's done nothing but rain since I moved in.”

“The sun does shine occasionally.” Elliott turned back to the shelves. “So, why did you stop going to services?”

Grace rolled her eyes. “Why are you so insistent on talking about church? Do you have nothing else to talk about?”

Shana laughed. “My dad's the same. His favorite saying is C-h-space-space-c-h, what's missing?”

Grace looked blankly at her.

“You are,” Elliott grinned. “C-h-u-r-c-h. Spells church.”

She shook her head. “My sister—it's just hard to believe in an all-powerful, all-loving God when…” She broke off as the bell over the door rang. “Forget it.”

“No, I don't want to forget it.” Elliott packed away his tools. “OK, I'm done here. Ladies, can you cope if I whisk your boss away for an early lunch?”

“Sure we can.” Shana grabbed Grace's coat and handed it to her before Grace could even open her mouth to argue.

“It's raining,” she managed.

“I've got an umbrella. And you have to eat at some point,” Elliott said firmly. “Come on. Besides, you did say you'd never go to church with someone you hardly know. So, now's your chance to get to know me better, and I'm offering lunch. On me.”

“OK. I'll go to lunch with you.” But that didn't mean she had any intention of going to church, or that she trusted his motives. She slid into her coat and pulled the collar up. Glancing back at the two girls, she pointed a finger at them. “You two behave while I'm gone.”

~*~

She walked with Elliott through the park towards the High Street. Rain thudded against his umbrella. Puddles lined the path, and she gave up trying to avoid them. She'd simply dry her shoes when she got home tonight. “If I'd known this was going to happen, I'd have worn my boots this morning and not suede shoes.”

“Have to live in the moment,” he said, his smile brightening the gloomy weather. “Tell me about your sister. Didn't you say Faith was a believer?”

“I meant my other sister, Hope.”

“Tilja never mentioned her.”

“No, she wouldn't have. No one talks about Hope. She ran away when she was seventeen. We haven't heard from her since, despite appeals and so on. Faith, on the other hand, is an artist and a believer. However, she's mixed up with this bloke who hits her, well she won't say so; she says all the bruises are accidents. I don't believe her. He says he loves her, and she always falls for it; won't hear a bad thing said about him. Rick, my brother, is a cop and puts his life on the line every time he goes to work—goes above and beyond the call of duty sometimes. Things kind of fell apart for everyone after Hope left.”

He glanced at her from under the umbrella. “Sounds to me like losing Hope made you lose a lot more than just hope. You lost your faith, too.”

“Ironic, isn't it.” Water seeped into her shoes. “So, no, God doesn't fit into my life in any shape or form. He saw to it that I lost one sister and could lose the other at any time.”

“You think He did it deliberately?”

“Maybe He did.” She shrugged. “Or maybe He just ignores me.”

“No, He doesn't. He sees you.” Elliott folded the umbrella, as they reached the door to the café. “You just don't see Him.”

She shook her head. “No, I don't.” She pushed open the door, glancing up at the logo above the entranceway. A cup, saucer, and Bible with 3-16 across it.

Nice, catchy, hopefully Faith can do something similar.

She found a table and hung her coat over the back of the chair. Sitting down, she reached for the menu.

Elliott glanced at her as he sat. “There must be someone who had time for you, surely?”

“No. Well, Aunt Tilja did, maybe, but she's gone now. Everyone else was worried about finding Hope or saving Faith from one mistake after another. But I'm simply, well to use my nickname, which I hate by the way,
Amazing Grace
—the person who can do anything she puts her mind to. Only I can't.”

“Tilja must have thought so. Otherwise why leave you all she had? The shop, house, and so on.” He reached over the table and touched her hand, his fingers warm against her cold skin.

“She was wrong. I can't do everything. I can't do
this
for a start.”

“Don't put yourself down. Look on this as a second chance. A chance to find both yourself and God.”

She held his gaze, wanting to jump into those clear blue eyes and drown. “Why would anyone want to find me? I'm no one, Elliott. No one important. I'm just—”

“You're just Grace.” His tone was gentle, his gaze intense. “And Grace is important to a lot of people, even if they don't show it. Come with me to church tomorrow, please. I'll pick you up at ten. Or are you really intending to work?”

Torn, she hesitated. She did need to work on the website, and on the house. But this would be time with Elliot and part of her wanted that, while the other part of her wanted to run away as fast and as far as possible, because she was beginning to like him, and he wasn't interested in her other than as a friend, no matter what Shana and Mandy said. “OK, I'll come with you.” Grace pulled her hand back and turned her attention to the menu as the waitress appeared. “Can I have the salad and jacket spud, please? With a pot of tea.”

Elliott glanced up. “I'll have the steak, chips, and peas, with coffee. Thank you.”

Grace slotted the menu back into the stand on the end of the table. “What time's kickoff?”

“Three. I'm meeting Joel at two-thirty. Does anyone in your family like football?”

“Rick does. He's at every game he can get to, work permitting.”

Elliott unfolded his serviette. “What do you like to do in your spare time?”

“I don't do anything. I work and sleep. That's it. Really boring, actually. What about you?”

“I have my work, football. Joel and I play squash, badminton, tennis. And there's church. That takes up a fair bit of time, too, but it's not a chore.”

Of course it is.
Grace sighed internally. Another reason not to get involved with him if he did ask. She didn't fit into his lifestyle. And she didn't want his God in her life either.

4

The logo Faith had sent her—a single carnation, with a ribbon that looked like a road tied around it—was amazing. She'd also included a graphic to send to the signage people for the new shop front.
Amazing
just didn't cover it. First thing tomorrow, Grace would send Faith a check or some other form of payment. Something Damien couldn't get his hands on. The doorbell rang and Grace closed the laptop.

Elliott stood waiting under his umbrella; his overcoat over what she assumed was a suit. She had to admit he looked dashing. “Morning, Elliott.”

“Good morning. Ready?”

“Yeah.” She slid her feet into knee length boots. Pulling on her coat, she grabbed her bag and shut the door behind her, grateful it was a self-locking door. “Lovely weather for ducks, again.”

“Oh, yes.” They ran the short distance to the car, the umbrella being blown inside out twice.

Elliott sighed. “Maybe we just get wet,” he commented.

“Yeah.”

At least her coat had a hood, which saved her hair a little as they ran from the car park around to the church. Set in a residential street in the heart of the town, its grey and red brick suited the greyness that fitted her life and the feelings inside her perfectly. Maybe Elliott was right and she was lost. What she needed was a map with an arrow that said ‘you are here.'

Yeah, right, like that's gonna happen
.

She followed Elliott inside the building, and watched with amazement at the way people greeted each other. The church was light and airy, decorated in pink and beige with chairs rather than pews. So unlike the stone building she'd attended in her youth. She couldn't see any priests or candles or confessional booths. She hadn't noticed any of this at the funeral. But today, the church looked different.

A tall man, with blond hair, greeted her with a sheet of paper and a handshake. “Welcome to Headley Baptist.”

“Thanks.” She followed Elliott down the aisle to some seats about half way down.

“Sit here,” he said. “I'll be back shortly. Just going into the vestry for the elders' prayer meeting before the service starts. I won't be long.”

“'K.” She sat and unfolded the sheet of paper. It listed the order of service along with the hymns. She didn't know any of them. A few minutes passed and she continued to take in the differences between this church and the darkness she'd always associated with church in the past. This one seemed…warmer somehow, despite the chill of the January morning.