The Perfect Arrangement (7 page)
I could maybe believe that had she told me the truth herself. What I don't understand is why she would lie to me about it and then change her story to William. It's fishy, isn't it? William asked me to stay out of it. He trusts Bridget and he wants me to trust him. Oh, but it's hard. I admit, I am rather protective of him. He's six years younger than me, you see, and we're sort of orphans.
Our mother died in childbirth. I was a six-year-old little girl with a grieving father and this little baby for a brother. Being a mother to him made me forget how terribly I missed my own. Our dad remarried too soon, and eight years later, he died too. William and I stayed with our stepmother and two stepsisters, who aren't the warmest of people. Growing up, it felt like it was me and William against the world. We were literally the redheaded stepchildren. (I was wearing
a hat when we met, so you might not have noticed my red hair.) And now that same baby brother has gone and proposed to a woman I want to trust but don't. How is he even old enough to get married?
Wow, I am throwing a fabulous pity party for myself, aren't I? As I reread this e-mail, I realize I've painted myself in a very tragic light. My life isn't tragic, really. Yes, I've had my losses. But who hasn't? God has given me a flower shop that I cherish, a younger brother I adore, and this quirky little town that I love. I like my life, Nate. I'm happy with where I've landed. I just wish I felt more confident about where William is landing.
Sorry again for making you wait!
Amelia
PS: Bravo on the Mr. Darcy quote. He's a long-standing literary crush of mine. Your e-mail opening might have made me swoon a little.
PPS: I haven't seen
The Man Who Knew Too Much
. I had to look it up on IMDb. I'll have to watch it. I'm a big fan of Jimmy Stewart and Doris Day.
I woke at five in the morning feeling a strange combination of panic and regret. Nate had wanted to know how things turned out regarding his advice. He'd never asked me about my family history or all of my accompanying feelings. Why had I shared so much? And how much of a freak did he think
I was for divulging all that I'd divulged? I wasn't even sure how it happened. I'd sat down at the computer, it all sort of tumbled out, and now he definitely knew too muchâwhether he wanted to or not.
Maybe I needed to keep a journal. Maybe if I kept a journal I would no longer pour out my embarrassing heart to cute men. I pulled my pillow over my face and groaned. Rachel was right. I needed to get out more. Meet someone in real life. Perhaps the reason I cyber-dumped on Nate was because deep down Baxter and my flower shop weren't enough. Maybe I
was
lonely, and now I'd gone and scared away the one guy who had charmed me (he quoted Darcy, for heaven's sake!) since Matt.
I slipped into my robe and shuffled out into the dark kitchen with toes curling against the chilly air, my regret following me the entire way. Baxter remained sleeping at the foot of my bed. I sat down in front of my laptop and woke it from its slumber with a click. The luminescent screen lit up my kitchen nook. I opened up my inbox, wishing I had the power to take back the e-mail I sent last night. Wishing I could send him something much cooler instead. Like a here's-what-went-down and leave-it-at-that type of e-mail.
When my inbox loaded, I found a couple orders for the day. Along with two unread, un-flower-related messages.
One from my long-lost best friend, Rachel.
The other from Nate!
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: Fri, Sep 25, 2015 1:05 a.m.
Subject: Re: The Man Who Knew Too Much
Dear Amelia,
Thank you for putting me out of my misery. It was a relief to hear the ending of the story. No, the loose ends weren't completely tied up, but I think they're secure enough. If I were you and William were my younger brother, I would respect his wishes. He knows what you saw, so the burden is no longer on your shoulders. He has chosen to trust Bridget, and he's asked that you trust him. I think it's a pretty reasonable request. And I think you can honor it without feeling guilty. There is my unsolicited advice for the day. Feel free to take it or leave it.
As far as younger siblings getting married, I can relate. My little sister is married, which I find incredibly strange.
Thankfully, her husband seems like a pretty decent guy, so all I can do is be happy for her. Then again, my sister and I have parents who are alive and married, which makes my situation a lot less complicated than yours. Most people in your situation
would
throw a pity party, and yet you choose to focus on your blessings. Not everyone would do that, Amelia. It's an admirable quality.
While reading your e-mail I couldn't help but notice something, and I hope you don't think I'm making light of your situation. I promise, I'm not. But it hit me that you
are
a lot more like Cinderella than I thought, complete with the evil stepmother and the two stepsisters. Their names aren't Drizella or Anastasia by any chance, are they? You don't have a talking mouse friend named Gus, do you?
I wanted to thank you for your note. I enjoyed reading it. And I also wanted to let you know that there's no pressure to e-mail me back. Your life sounds very busy at the flower shop. I, on the other hand, am just a writer who spends copious amounts of time at the computer, looking for excuses to do anything but write. I don't want to be a nuisance, and you should feel no obligation to write back. The reason I'm saying this at all is because you seem like the kind of person who might continue exchanging e-mails with a complete stranger even if it is a bother, just for the sake of that stranger's feelings. I promise, my feelings are of hardy stock. In case you decide not to e-mail, I wanted to say that I've enjoyed our little exchanges. You're an interesting person, Amelia, and I happen to like interesting people.
All the best,
Nate
PS: You should definitely watch
The Man Who Knew Too Much.
“There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind.”
âC. S. Lewis
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: Fri, Sep 25, 2015 5:15 a.m.
Subject: Re: The Man Who Knew Too Much
Dear Nate,
I'm incredibly sorry if I gave you the impression that you were bothering me! You are far from a nuisance. I've been enjoying our exchanges too. Please don't feel bothersome. Please continue to write. And please accept my sincerest apology.
âAmelia
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: Fri, Sep 25, 2015 2:41 a.m.
Subject: Re: I'm the world's biggest basket case
Amelia! You have to forgive me! The village was attacked by a swarm of fire ants. They ate everything in sight, including some of the animals. All they left behind were the skeletons. We had to flee in the middle of the night and . . .
Okay, I'm lying. That didn't happen. But I did read about it happening in a book once. The less adventuresome truth is that I've been swamped in Chuukese and absolutely consumed with these kids. I love them. Every single one of them. And lest you feel too neglected, Internet service is practically nonexistent here. Tonight it's working, so I am typing as fast as possible before it cuts out again. If I travel to the city, I can call you. Other than that, there's not much point in having a phone.
Tell me what's going on with William! He's engaged to a cheater!? What can I do to help? And you hit a guy with your car!? I tell you what. I leave and your entire life falls apart. Please tell me the flower shop is still standing. Oh, and how's Baxter? Scratch his ears for me.
Love you,
Rach
PS: When are you coming for a visit? It's long past time for you to get a passport.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: Fri, Sep 25, 2015 5:20 a.m.
Subject: Re: I'm the world's biggest basket case
Your help is no longer required! Things are fine with William. He and Bridget are engaged, yes. But she's not a cheater. At least I hope she's not. They're getting married on October 24th, which is in less than a month!
I didn't hit a guy with my car. I hit a guy's car with my car. That's a big difference. He's the one who actually helped me work through the drama with William and his fiancée. He gave me some great advice, and I think everything's looking up. I'm good. More than good, in fact. I'm feeling pretty great. :)
Now tell me more about Fiji! You love the kids. You're learning the languages. Are you ever going to come home?
Missing you like crazy,
Amelia
PS: If I ever get a passport, I should probably go somewhere less intense than a village in Fiji for my first trip. Like maybe Ontario.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: Fri, Sep 25, 2015 2:12 p.m.
Subject: Re: The Man Who Knew Too Much
Dear Amelia,
I'm not sure I've met anyone who apologizes as much as you apologize. And what's ironic is that you've not done anything that warrants an apology. Are you up for a challenge? I challenge you
not
to apologize for apologizing too much. Think you can do it?
Anyway, thank you for the e-mail. I'm glad I'm not being a nuisance and that you've enjoyed our exchanges too.
So tell me, how did you become a florist?
Best,
Nate
“There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind.”
âC. S. Lewis
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: Fri, Sep 25, 2015 7:08 p.m.
Subject: The Shop around the Corner
Dear Nate,
Challenge accepted. I will not apologize, even though everything in me wants to do it. And FYI, hitting you with a car most DEFINITELY warranted an apology. That's all I'll say about that.
How did I become a florist?
I happen to love that question. My mother was a florist. She owned my flower shop (which is actually
on
a corner, not
around
a corner) before I owned my flower shop. Back then it was called The Flower Pot. I have the fondest memories of helping her put together bouquets as a little girl. She started me off on cleaned (no thorns), long-stemmed roses (which are the easiest bouquets to make). Every time I smell them, I think of her. She and my dad used to slow dance in the store. Whenever I sweep the floor, I think of them that way. Smiling and slow dancing. I would sit behind the counter coloring in my coloring book and watch them. They had the best kind of love.
Even though I was only six when she died, not a day goes by that I don't think of her. Random things remind me of her. Like all your talk about Cinderella. She used to read
me bedtime stories at night. All kinds. But my favorites were the fairy tales. I'd be lying if I said I didn't relate to Cinderella a time or two in my teenage years, even if my stepmother and stepsisters aren't actually evil.
Anyway, my mother left the flower shop to my dad when she passed, and my dad, I think, had every intention of giving it to me when I was old enough. None of us expected him to pass away as suddenly as he did, least of all him. His affairs weren't in order, and so the flower shop went to my stepmother, who sold it. I was fourteen, which I think is a difficult year for any girl, but most especially when you've lost your father and the place you thought would be yours. I won't pretend I didn't mourn deeply.
Life moved on. Time took away the sting. I went off to college and got myself a boyfriend. And then I graduated and we broke up, and lo and behold, my mother's old flower shop went up for sale. It felt like Providence. I took out a loan, signed on the dotted line, and here I am, the owner of my mother's old flower shop. I thought about naming it The Flower Pot again, but my mother's favorite flowers were forget-me-nots, and so, the name has a double entendre. Her picture hangs on the wall above the cash register. I absolutely love what I do.
