The Perfect Arrangement (10 page)

From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: Fri, Oct 16, 2015 6:57 p.m.
Subject: Re: Change of Heart?

Dear Nate,

I'm sorry. I know I apologize too much, but I feel this warrants an apology. I've been terribly busy at the flower shop. Everyone is suddenly getting married in October. Fall weddings are all the rage, apparently. Still, that's no excuse for my silence. I promise I've been thinking about you often. I at least hope that in my absence, you've been able to get a lot of writing accomplished.

Your previous e-mail didn't scare me. And what you wrote doesn't sound all that crazy. I miss you too.

Affectionately,

Amelia

I hit Send before I could give it too much thought. Nate
deserved a response.

But he also deserves the truth
, my conscience whispered. And all of what I'd sent him had been a lie, except the missing-him part. I did miss him. So much it left a hole inside my chest.

The flower shop, however, had not been terribly busy, or even busy at all. His e-mail
had
scared me, in all kinds of ways. His relationship to my ex-boyfriend aside, there were less complicated things to consider. Like the fact that I wasn't as interesting in real life as I was via e-mail. When it came to e-mail, I had the luxury of editing. Revising. Putting in the best parts.

And there was the matter of me. I'd been wearing a hat and sunglasses when Nate and I met. I wasn't a ravishing beauty, or even beautiful at all. I had red hair and freckles, something Candace and Crystal had teased me about mercilessly growing up. Some people insisted I was pretty, but those were mostly old, kind men, like George, who were probably just being nice. Never mind Chelsea and Matt and all the accompanying embarrassment. What if Nate and I went on a date and he realized he'd driven all the way to Mayfair for nothing?

I guess Rachel was a little bit right after all.

Bridget fidgeted. William placed an assuring arm around her shoulder. Usually I met with my brides twice. Once initially to make all the plans, then again a few weeks before the big
day to make sure everything was squared away. I didn't want any of my brides fretting over a missing corsage for a beloved great-aunt we forgot to consider. I'd had both of these meetings already with William and Bridget. This third one, which really wasn't a meeting at all (more of a stop-by-the-shop check-in), was a courtesy to my brother and my soon-to-be sister-in-law.

According to him, Bridget had started having anxiety dreams, where all manner of things went wrong. Most of them had to do with the flowers and the wedding dress. So William checked on the alterations for her dress and asked if we could meet one last time to check over the flowers.

“We have three bridesmaids' bouquets.” One of which I'd be carrying. “And, of course, your bouquet. Three groomsmen boutonnieres and three additional boutonnieres. Two for Bridget's side of the family. One for the pastor. Six corsages—three for William's side.” Jeanine, Candace, and Crystal would cause a fuss if they didn't all have corsages. “Three for Bridget's side. The unity candle arrangement, which we'll bring to the reception hall. And then ten centerpiece arrangements.”

Bridget continued to nod as I moved down the list in my notebook.

“See, everything's in order,” William assured.

“I don't know why I'm so nervous.” Bridget fiddled with the hem of her shirt.

“It's only natural,” I said, hoping to set her at ease. “Almost all brides and grooms get a little anxious as the wedding approaches.”

Bridget nudged my brother. “He's not.”

“Yeah well, William doesn't get nervous about much.”

He winked at me over the top of Bridget's head. “So we'll see you tonight, right? Out at Sawyer Farm for our annual corn maze adventure?”

I hesitated.

“Come on, Ames, you have to come. It's tradition.”

He was right. It was. And it's not like we hadn't brought guests with us before. All through college, I'd brought Matt. But this felt different. William had been so much younger, and younger brothers were supposed to be tag-alongs. I wasn't sure if that rule applied to older, single sisters. I opened my mouth to answer when the door swooshed open, bringing in a delightful breeze of October air.

I expected a familiar face. This particular familiar face, I did not.

Standing in my store, looking even handsomer in person with his hair a bit wind-tossed and his eyes a richer shade of brown than I remembered, was none other than Nate Gallagher. He wore a navy-blue merino sweater with sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms and a broken-in pair of toasted-brown chinos with a braided leather belt and the kind of smile that could make a girl light-headed. He looked like a walking J.Crew advertisement.

I fumbled with the pencil, and in my attempt to catch it, knocked the notebook to the floor. I ducked behind the counter to pick both up with all of Africa's heat gathering inside the confines of my cheeks. Nate Gallagher was in my shop! And I found myself fighting the very same urge I fought when we first encountered one another, only instead of hiding beneath my steering wheel, I wanted to army-crawl
into the back room and never come out again. I forced myself to stand and set the notebook on the counter between us. “Sorry about that. Wow, Nate. What are you doing here?”

“It's my sister's birthday. I took her out to dinner last night. I swear I wasn't going to stop by unexpectedly like this, but then I got your e-mail this morning, and well . . .” He stuck his hands inside his pockets and shrugged with the most adorable, self-deprecating expression ever to grace a man's face. “I couldn't resist.”

“Oh yeah?” I set the pencil next to the notebook. It almost rolled off the counter again. I made a spastic grab for it, then tucked a strand of auburn hair behind my ear.

Settle down, Amelia.

“Anyway, I was wondering . . .” He looked at William and Bridget—who were both gawking, gave them an apologetic wave, then leaned a little over the counter. “Well, maybe we could grab a coffee or something.”

“Oh, a coffee?” Why was my voice coming out so high? Seriously, what
was
that? I cleared my throat and tucked another strand of hair behind my ear. Glanced nervously at my brother, then back at the man who was making my underarms sweaty. “Well, I'm working. The shop doesn't close until one.”

He checked his watch. “That's only a half hour away. I don't mind waiting.”

I bit my lip, searching for an excuse. Begging the heat in my cheeks to go away already.

“Bridget and I can close down for you,” William blurted.

“What?” I let out a nervous laugh. “But you don't know how to close.”

My brother made wide eyes at me that thankfully, Nate didn't see. Apparently William wanted me to go on a real-life date as badly as Rachel. “I've watched you do it enough. And Bridget used to work at a flower shop in high school, so if there's a last-minute customer, she can make the bouquet. Right, Bridge?”

Her eyes glittered with curiosity as she looked from Nate to me. “Right. We've got this, Amelia. You should go have coffee with . . .?”

“Oh, I'm sorry.” I let out another nervous laugh. “This is my, uh, friend, Nate Gallagher. Nate, this is my brother, William, and his fiancée, Bridget.”

“Ah, William. It's nice to meet you.” Nate shook both of their hands with a smile tucked into the corner of his mouth. He knew more about them than either had any idea.

“You too,” William said, darting a glance my way. “Hey, if you're staying the night, you should come to the corn maze with us tonight. It's this yearly tradition. Lots of fun.”

This time I made big eyes at William. What did he think he was doing?

“A corn maze, huh?” I didn't miss the twinkle in Nate's eyes. “That sounds like fun.”

We all stood there for an awkward moment.

Then Nate slid his hands back inside his pockets and pivoted one shoulder toward the door. “Shall we?”

The air was crisp and clean as I stepped outside beside Nate.

“Eloise's Bakery?” he said.

“It's great, but Eloise doesn't serve coffee. Patty serves coffee.”

We walked side-by-side down the wide sidewalk, the smell of fallen leaves and Eloise's pumpkin muffins swirling together in the chilly breeze. I searched for something to say, but my tongue was officially tied. Nate, however, strolled beside me, looking perfectly at ease while taking in our surroundings. He caught me staring and smiled. It was a grin that etched crinkles into the corners of his eyes. “You're right. This place is gorgeous in October.”

“Yeah, it is.” I scrambled for something—anything—to add, but I was still trying to catch up with the moment. I was actually walking down Main Street with Nate Gallagher by my side.

He motioned toward the sign above Patty's House of Pancakes. “Is this the place?”

I nodded.

He stopped in front of the diner's large picture window and pivoted on his heels to face me. “Amelia, if you don't want to do this, it's fine. I shouldn't have bombarded you like this. I don't want to force you to keep me company.”

“You're not forcing me. Not at all. I'm sorry I'm making you feel that way. You just . . . you caught me off guard. And I did warn you that I'm shy. That wasn't an exaggeration.” My heart thundered harder the more I rambled. I scuffed my shoe against the cement, wishing I could be articulate and interesting in person. “I'm really sorry.”

Nate tipped up my chin with his knuckle. It was a friendly action. Not too intimate. Yet heat stretched inside my belly, extending all the way down into my toes. He brought his hand quickly away. “There you go again.”

“What?”

“Apologizing.”

A smile spread across my face. And as it did, some of the knots in my stomach loosened. Somehow, simultaneously, this guy set my heart at ease and my senses on high alert. I took a deep breath. Forced my shoulders to relax.

He dipped his chin. “Are you sure you want to have coffee with me?”

“I'm positive.” I glanced inside the window, where we'd already garnered the attention of a few familiar patrons. “But I should warn you. If you take me in there, Patty will see us. And once Patty sees us, all the other Bunco Babes
will know that I was having coffee with a stranger. And then the entire town of Mayfair will be abuzz.”

The twinkle returned to his eyes. “What, exactly, is a Bunco Babe?”

“They're a group of women who get together once a week to play Bunco and swap gossip. They have pink T-shirts and everything.”

He chuckled.

The sound of it boosted my confidence. Maybe I
could
be as interesting in person as I was in our e-mail exchanges.

“That's not a problem for me, since I don't live here. You're the one who has to deal with the fallout.” He raised one of his eyebrows. “Are you up for it?”

“I think so.”

“Okay, then.” Nate opened the door and swept the air with his arm, an invitation for me to go first.

It didn't take more than half a second before Patty saw us from behind the counter. Her eyes went extra wide, making them look as white as white inside her dark face. Nearly as wide as she was tall, she waddled more than she walked. “Amelia Woods, coming in on a Saturday before one o'clock?” She eyed Nate approvingly. “And who's this good-looking gentleman friend you have here?”

Every single person in the diner had stopped eating and was now officially staring. Patty's voice carried.

“Patty, this is Nate. Nate, this is Patty.”

Nate shook Patty's hand, told her it was a pleasure to meet her, and said the food smelled delicious.

She swatted her dish towel at him, then led us both to
the corner booth, where it was—as she emphasized—more
romantic
. The flush in my cheeks expanded into my ears.