Grace
“Emilia, you got that arrangement almost done?”
“The one with the lilies and the orchids? Yep. Almost done.”
“Good. Because I’m going to have to take them over soon,” I said.
“I thought they were being picked up? Aren’t they always picked up?”
“Not today,” I said. “Today, I’m supposed to deliver them to a house.”
“I guess that’s good news. Maybe?”
“You never know. The arrangement could be for a funeral.”
“You really have a morbid sense of humor, Grace.”
“It’s amazing what florists tolerate and what people will spew in their moments of emotional weakness,” I said.
For the past three weeks, a maid had been coming into our shop to pick up a flower arrangement every single day. And the order was always the same. Lilies and orchids with a splash of greenery. Always arrang
ed the same, always large, and always picked up at eleven in the morning.
But this time, a phone call told me they needed to be hand-delivered by that same time to a specific address.
“Do you even know who’s supposed to receive them?” Emilia asked.
“I’m assuming the woman who’s been picking them up will be at the house,” I said.
“But you don’t know.”
“Nope.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” she asked.
“Emilia, I’ve delivered flowers before. I’m sure I’ll be okay.”
“But you always know who’s receiving those flowers. You don’t today. It might be a trap.”
“What are we, in some kind of spy movie? Emilia, are you some super-secret spy using your florist shop as a cover-up?” I asked.
“It would be more exciting than the life I lead now.”
“Girl, your significant other is a billionaire.”
“True,” she laughed. “Speaking of, how’s your love life?”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
“You need to get out more, you never know when you’ll meet Prince Charming,” she said.
“Maybe a handsome man will be receiving these flowers. He’ll open the door with his shirt off and sweat dripping down his body after working out. He’ll wipe the sweat off his forehead and grin at me, then reach out for my waist instead of the flowers.”
“Bought a new romance novel, I see.”
“And it’s great.”
“What’s the plot line this time?”