Playing for Keeps (5 page)

“Oh good.”

There was some clacking like she was using a keyboard. “What’s your name?”

“Grace Connors. But the wedding is my sister’s. Penelope.”

“And your sister’s fiancé‘s name?”

“Riley Neill.”

More tapping. “Were either married before?”

“Uh, no?”

The tapping stopped. “You don’t know?”

“Well, Nell hasn’t been. I’m not sure about Riley.”

“Your sister goes by Nell? Does she realize her name’s going to be Nell Neill?”

I tried not to snicker. “It’s been pointed out.”

“Okay, next question.” The clacking started again. “Will they be using our minister or bringing in their own officiant?”

“Well…”

“You don’t know.” She didn’t sound surprised. “Because if they want our minister to perform the ceremony, they’ll need to go through secular pre-marital counseling.”

“I’ll need to ask them.”

“Will the reception be at the church? How many people do you anticipate attending? Do you know how many pews you’ll need reserved?”

I started to sweat. “Um—”

“We’ll need to know whether you’ll want flowers on the ends of the pews or candles, or a special runner down the aisle. You’ll also need to let us know if you want communion during the ceremony. Oh, and whether or not you’d like to book the organist. I’d highly recommend him, but if you want a vocalist, bring in your own.”

“Okay,” I replied hesitantly, only because she seemed to be waiting for something from me.

She sighed. “Maybe we should look at dates. Hold on a second while I pull up our calendar.”

Serene flute music flooded the receiver. I beat my foot in time with it while I waited for the efficient woman to come back on the line.

Her crisp voice replaced the music. “When is the wedding taking place?”

I could answer this one. “October.”

“What day in October?”

I racked my brain, trying to remember if Nell and Riley had mentioned an actual date for the wedding. I decided to play it safe. “Saturday?”

“Hmm.” More rustling. “All the Saturdays in October are already booked.”

“They are?”

“Yes. For Saturday weddings we’re booking a year ahead of time.”

What was the world coming to when you had to wait a year to get married on a Saturday? “How about Friday nights?”

“Booked. And we only reserve Fridays and Saturdays for weddings.” A few clicks. “The next available date we have is in January.”

I wrinkled my nose, wondering how Nell would feel about that.

The woman sighed again. “How about if I get your address and send you a brochure? You can discuss it with your sister and get back to me.”

I almost saluted and said “Yes, ma’am!” I gave her our address and thanked her for helping, congratulating myself for not sounding sarcastic.

I set the receiver down and wondered what to do. It had seemed like such a simple task.

The phone rang. It was Nell. “Gracie, you’re going to have to go on your own to the florist shops.”

“What?” I looked at the time. Why wasn’t Nell working? Usually you couldn’t drag her away from her computer when the market was open. “Why aren’t you working?”

“Don’t worry. Your portfolio is sound.”

“I don’t care about my portfolio.” I heard someone whimpering in the background. “Who is that? Is that Riley?”

“No, it’s George.”

“Who the heck is George?”

George whimpered again, then I heard him panting. I frowned, trying not to picture the various lewd acts my sister was involved in that could reduce a man to that state.

Nell sighed dramatically. “Last night I went to the grocery store to get some ice cream. The corner store doesn’t carry Ben & Jerry’s and I really love Coffee Heath Bar Crunch, you know—”

“Nell. Get to the point.”

“I got a puppy.”

“At the grocery store?”

“If you’d have listened to my story, you’d know the details, wouldn’t you?”

“Just tell me, Nell.”

“Outside the store, there was a woman with a sign that said ‘Free Puppies, Take One.’ I stopped out of curiosity. She said her dog had a litter of puppies and she couldn’t keep them and wanted to find them a good home. She’d given away all of them except for George.” She made some kissy-face noises. “Isn’t that right, Georgie?”

I almost gagged. “So you took home a dog?”

“I couldn’t help it, Gracie. He loved me on the spot. He looked at me with his big puppy eyes and nudged my hand with his nose and I knew.”

“What did you know?”

“That he was mine. I had to have him.”

“Nell, you live in a condo. Where are you going to keep him?”

“My condo’s roomy, and he’s not that big. George and I are going to be fine.”

More whimpering on the other end. “Are you sure about that?” I asked.

“He just needs to adjust.”

“Okay.” I shook my head but let it drop. “So tell me why you can’t go to the florists.”

“George and I have to bond. I can’t leave him alone here. He’s just a baby, after all.”

“Bring him along.”

“Well—” Nell laughed faintly. “He doesn’t really like riding in the car. He gets carsick.”

I imagined him throwing up in Nell’s immaculate Lexus and grinned so hard my face almost cracked.

“Please, Gracie. Do you mind checking out the florists on your own? You know what I like and I trust your judgment.”

“Sure. No problem.” Flowers I could handle. I might even enjoy the chore.

Nell sighed in relief. “You’re the best, Gracie.”

“Listen. About the church—”

“George! Stop that. Drop it.” I could hear some kind of struggle. “Gracie, I have to go. George is chewing on one of my favorite Manolos. Oh
shit
.”

“What happened?”

“No.
Shit
. Literally. He just went on my shoe. Talk to you later.” She hung up abruptly, leaving me staring at the receiver.

I shrugged and set it back.

I never knew Nell wanted a dog. Chloe, sure. Chloe’s Christmas lists had always started out with the same three things: dog, horse, and monkey. Chloe was the one who’d rescue lost or injured animals on the way home from school. At one point, we were on a first name basis with the folks at the animal shelter.

Nell, on the other hand, had always been too busy with life to bother with pets. What was she going to do with a dog? She was fond of spur of the moment trips. I wondered if she realized the dog would restrict that kind of freedom.

Whatever. Nell was her own woman.

I grinned again at the dog barfing in her car.

An hour later I got an email from her listing the florists she wanted me to check out. It was fairly short and I was familiar with most of them. By afternoon, I was excited to take on the task. It was too unusually nice outside to be cooped up in the office, and the prospect of lingering over flowers always psyched me.

I got into my old heap of a car, turned up the music, and took off.

My Civic was old when I bought it. Everyone—my family, Celeste, Pete, the kung fu students—kidded me about it. It’d gotten to a point where I kept the pile of junk out of defiance. I didn’t fix it cosmetically in any way just to piss everyone off. I only suped it up in ways that weren’t noticeable, like the stereo system.

I love music. Rock and alternative in particular. Having a good sound system was important, so I researched it until I found a nice balance between affordable and acoustically satisfying. I installed it myself.

I bopped along to Maroon 5 all the way to the first florist shop and for the fifteen minutes it took me to find parking.

A wave of cool air hit me as I walked into the store. I inhaled. It smelled green and fresh. I loved that smell.

There were buckets of all sorts of flowers arranged by color around the small room. Heliconia, ginger, and protea demanded attention in the middle while stargazer lilies and blue irises rested demurely to the side. Against the far wall, there was a refrigerator case full of roses.

I was examining a variety of pure white rose when I heard someone come out from the back room. “Can I help you?”

I turned and smiled at the woman. “I wanted to get some pricing for flowers and bouquets.”

“Of course. Is this for a special occasion?”

“My sister’s wedding.”

I swore I saw dollar signs light up in her eyes. She waved me to follow her. “I have some books here you can look at. I specialize in weddings.”

Sure she did. I followed her docilely to the counter and watched as she pulled out album after album, each one three inches thick. She pushed one at me with an eager smile. I gulped and opened it.

The first pictures hit me with the force of a Mack truck, the arrangements were so heavy-handed. I’d never seen anyone make flowers look gaudy before. I flipped through the album in horrified fascination.

She stared at me the whole time but waited until I was done to say anything. “See anything that appealed to you?”

“I was thinking of something simpler. Maybe with less color.”

“Oh no.” She shook her head vigorously. “You want the flowers to burst out and be lively. It creates a feeling of happiness and joy.”

There was a balance between joy and sending someone into an epileptic fit. “Maybe I can look at another album.”

She smiled and handed me another one. After the first page I could tell the arrangements were every bit as garish as the first.

Cross this one off the list. “These aren’t quite what I had in mind.”

“Maybe you should come in with your sister. It’s her wedding after all.”

I bristled. “Excuse me?”

Her smile never faltered. “Brides love our arrangements.” Her eyes dropped down to my empty ring finger and arched a brow as if to say I obviously wasn’t in the know.

That was it. I was so outta there. “Thanks.” I strode toward the door.

“We’re open till seven tonight,” she called after me.

“Good for you,” I mumbled under my breath as I walked out.

The next florist wasn’t any better, nor was the one after it. I was getting a little discouraged, not to mention browbeaten, when I finally found The One.

It looked unassuming, like every other flower shop, except everything was shinier. The floors gleamed, the flowers were vibrant, and the glass counters were immaculate.

Even the woman who looked up from the basket she was designing radiated joy. She smiled at me and it was so bright it almost knocked me over. “Can I help you?”

“I’m interested in your wedding arrangements.” I braced myself for her reaction.

She lit up. “Oh, I love designing for weddings. I have some pictures of past weddings we’ve done that you can look at.”

I tried not to grimace. “Okay.”

She bent and rummaged behind the counter, keeping up the conversation the whole time. “It’s somewhere back here. Heather, the owner, isn’t known for her organization. Here it is.” She plopped it on the counter. “A lot of florists use FTD designs but they’re a little gaudy if you ask me. My name is Sarah, by the way.”

She opened it and turned a couple pages before sliding it toward me. “Of course, some people want all that color, but I like to design simpler arrangements that enhance the environment instead of overwhelm it.”

I flipped through it slowly. My heart lifted. They were beautiful—simple and elegant. Not perfect, but I could tell if I told her what I wanted she’d be able to deliver. “I love these.”

Sarah beamed. “Thanks. I designed them myself.”

It was time for a test. “I was thinking of Mokara orchids for bouquets.”

She nodded. “Mokara orchids are lovely, but they’re more showy. Now calla lilies—they aren’t as in your face but are still dramatic and beautiful.”

Good answer. I flipped through a few more pages. Not that I needed to. Sarah was it. “I’m sold. Can you do it?”

She clapped her hands together like an excited four-year old would. “We’d love to. Let me just check the dates. When is it?”

Oops. There was the problem with the date. “The date isn’t exactly set, but it’ll be a weekend in October.”

“October,” she said absently as she look in the appointment book. “We’ve got a few other weddings that Heather booked, but I think we can squeeze you in.”

I exhaled a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Great.” Then I realized I didn’t ask the most important question. “What do you charge for doing weddings?”

She winced and then sighed. “We have a special wedding price list.”

“Hmm.” She didn’t make it sound like it was a deal.

“The thing is”—Sarah leaned close to me, looking around as if checking for spies—“Heather charges twice as much for weddings as she does for other events.”

After my day, that didn’t surprise me at all. “What are we talking about?”

The figure Sarah named almost knocked me over. “Seriously?” I asked when I picked my jaw off the floor.

She nodded apologetically. “I’m really sorry. Most of the time I don’t care. The people who come in here are rude and I earn every penny of it, but I can tell you love flowers as much as I do.”

I wasn’t sure how she knew that, but I wasn’t about to quibble. “I’m not sure we can spend that much on flowers.”

Sarah leaned even closer. I thought she was going to grab my collar and pull me to her, but she just whispered, “Listen, why don’t you and I do the flowers together? I love designing, and you’re obviously knowledgeable about them. I bet you’d be a natural. You could just pay me for the labor.”

“Why would you do that?” It seemed strange that she’d undersell her boss.

“We’re kindred spirits. I feel like this is the right thing to do.” She said it like that explained it all. She scribbled her phone number on a business card and handed it to me. “Think about it and let me know.”

I left the store, perplexed and pensive, with one question in my mind.

Could I do it?

To tell the truth, when Nell first brought up florists, for a brief moment I considered asking her to do the flower arrangements myself. I stifled the idea before it could grow. I didn’t want to be disappointed when she said no.

But now I had a valid reason to do it. I’d be saving her money. Financial wiz Penelope Connors had to appreciate that, right?