by Amanda Tru
“I’d like to say I’m flattered, but that’s not true.” Her erratic movements knocked over some greenery, and she bent to pick it up. “At the rate you’re going through the women of Crossroads, it shouldn’t be surprising that it would eventually be my turn.”
Brooke didn’t know where the words were coming from. Even as they spewed from her mouth, she thought them terribly rude and hurtful. But she was stressed beyond reason, and Dylan’s request had sent her emotions reeling so that she couldn’t separate stress, attraction, anger, embarrassment, frustration, and everything else she had experienced in the past few days. At the moment, whether she intended to or not, Dylan was wearing the target for all of it.
Dylan held up his hands, as if in surrender. “Brooke, I think you are misunderstanding me. And I don’t want to talk to you about it here. Can I at least meet you somewhere after work so we can talk?”
“No, Dylan,” Brooke said flatly, and she turned to face him squarely for the first time. “I don’t want to be one of your playmates who does fun things with you so you don’t have to be lonely, and I don’t want to be another tally mark on your dating record.”
For once, she could clearly read Dylan. She saw the confusion and the hurt. But instead of backing off, she continued the attack as the words kept coming, with each phrase she said being worse than the previous.
“If you really need someone to date,” she continued, “I can compile a list of names, and maybe even the phone numbers, if I check my cell phone bill. In fact, there’s one right over there. Tylee is one of those who has admired you for a long time and would very much like to submit a Dylan Masters application. Feel free to pursue other opportunities. I definitely won’t be applying.”
They were words that would later torture her with regret. She’d just taken everything he’d done for her, everything that he’d opened up and shared with her, and with a cruel twist, used them to stab him in the back.
By the time her words stopped, a mask had fallen over Dylan’s face. Showing no emotion whatsoever, he nodded and said. “Maybe I’ll do just that. Thank you for your time. I will let you get back to your work.”
Then he left.
In shock, Brooke looked down at her shaking hands. What had she just done?
As if on autopilot, her fingers returned to the work of arranging, completely unaware of her turmoil. She heard Dylan’s voice talking to Tylee, but she couldn’t bring herself to even attempt to eavesdrop. Maybe he really had taken her suggestion seriously and asked Tylee out.
At the idea, Brooke had to put both hands on the counter and breathe deeply through the nausea. The only coherent thought that entered or exited her mind with any coherence was the same phrase, over and over.
What have I done?
What have I done?
Brooke wasn’t even aware of when the bell over the door jingled with Dylan’s departure. After a while, Brooke’s shock paired with a nice little coping mechanism called denial, and she was able to push everything in her mind aside save for the pretty flowers she was arranging in a bouquet. She worked quickly, and her focus was only interrupted once, when Tylee came over to match the cards with the bouquets.
After working quietly for a few minutes, the younger woman whispered, “I can’t believe Dylan Masters asked you out! And I really can’t believe you said no!”
Brooke didn’t respond but lost focus enough that she changed her mind about five times on whether to use daisies or carnations in the bouquet she was working on.
Eventually, Brooke made it through all of the orders, and she sent Tylee on her way for deliveries. Helen even left the shop for a while on some errands, leaving Brooke some quiet with which to clean up, take stock, and prepare her purchase orders for next week. When Helen finally returned, Brooke was ready to call it a day.
“Do you need me to deliver some of those other orders?” she asked, pointing to the assortment of bouquets still sitting on the counter. “Tylee must have run out of space for all of the deliveries. I know you wanted to get them out early, but it looks like Tylee may not make it back in time for a second round.”
“No, that’s fine,” Helen said crisply. “I’ll take care of them.”
Brooke nodded and handed her boss the set of completed forms she had been working on. “Here are the purchase orders and list of supplies I will need for next week. The large number of orders today depleted our stock some. I’m a bit nervous that we won’t get some supplies in time before we need them. I can probably run over to the supplier in Brighton Falls tomorrow if you want.”
“No, that won’t be necessary,” Helen answered.
Brooke hesitated. “So should I put an asterisk by the ones we need more so that you can get them yourself?”
“No, I think we will manage just fine ourselves.”
Brooke looked at Helen, the tone of the older woman’s voice giving her an awful premonition. There was an almost sadistic gleam in her eye, as if she was taking a moment to truly savor what she was about to say.
“Your services will no longer be needed, Miss Hutchins,” she said formally. “I will make sure we have the supplies we need from now on. It is no longer your concern.”
“You are firing me?” Brooke asked in shock.
“Well, if you want to term it that, then yes. You’re being fired. I prefer a gentler phrase like ‘being let go.’ I have a reputation to consider, and the public is demanding there be some kind of retribution for the orders yesterday. It was just too big of a mistake to not be termed incompetence and treated as such. I want to be able to report that the problem was eliminated and there is no chance of the person responsible having any influence on orders again.”
Brooke opened and shut her mouth several times, not even knowing what to say. “But you have orders and no florist to fulfill them,” she managed. Her voice sounded weak, but she had to ask. Helen had no ability in flower design whatsoever. Had she thought through the ramifications of what firing Brooke would mean, or was she still just reacting in anger?
“I already had you create all of the orders we currently have scheduled for the next few days,” she said with a condescending smile. “I’m sure they will keep fine until then. That should give me plenty of time to hire a new florist. If we have more orders that come in between now and then, I’m sure Tylee and I can manage to put a few flowers in some vases.”
So she had thought things through. That’s why she insisted that Brooke fulfill a crazy number of orders for today!
Feeling as if there was nothing more to say, Brooke turned to get her purse.
“I’m not completely heartless,” Helen said to her back. “I do appreciate the work you’ve done for me for the last few years. I also realize this will put you in some significant financial constraints, especially since it is unlikely that anyone in the area will be willing to hire you with your reputation. So I’m willing to offer you a small severance package, even though I’m not legally bound to do so. All I ask is that you agree to sign this nondisclosure agreement, and then the check is yours.”
Brooke slung her purse over her shoulder and shut her eyes. Please, Lord! She prayed, though she didn’t even know what kind of request to make of the Almighty. She didn’t want to play Helen’s games. She didn’t want to sign any kind of nondisclosure agreement in order to get a check, but she may not have a choice.
Walking back to Helen she accepted the offered paper with two checks paper-clipped to the top, and she read every word. Basically, if she signed it, Brooke would not be allowed to speak to any form of media about yesterday’s events and the mistakes with the floral orders. Helen was trying to ensure that Brooke wouldn’t be able to reveal the full truth of what had happened and wouldn’t have a chance to ruin Helen’s reputation.
“The first check is the amount owed for the work you’ve done through today,” Helen supplied. “The second check is your severance pay, should you decide to sign the agreement.”
Brooke really wanted to hand Helen b
ack the agreement unsigned, without even looking at the check. But, with bills to pay, she didn’t feel like she had the choice. She peeked at the check. It wasn’t a huge amount, but it would give her enough money to pay for her rent for next month, which would hopefully give her enough time to find another job.
Brooke stared at the paper for ten long seconds. Feeling like she was backed into a corner, she snatched the pen Helen was offering and signed the agreement before she had the chance to change her mind. If paying the rent cost her pride of not being able to defend herself, then that’s what she’d have to do. As tough as it was, she would rather not be homeless, even if the cost was that she was the newest town villain.
Helen accepted the papers, and then removed both checks and handed them to Brooke. “Goodbye, Brooke. I assume you can let yourself out? I have work that I need to attend to.”
Without a word, Brooke turned and left. The happy little bell above the door jingled as she left, completely oblivious that Brooke felt like Cinderella whose dress had just been torn to shreds by her step-sisters. Brooke was good at floral design, and it was something she enjoyed doing. But everything she’d worked so hard at had just been destroyed and ripped from her, leaving her bare and in shock, with all her hard work in tatters.
She made it to her car and sat down in the driver’s seat. She even shut the door, locked it, and put the keys in the ignition. But she couldn’t turn the key. With both hands gripping the steering wheel, she slumped over it as great, wracking sobs coursed through her body.
She had no idea how long she sat there. But it was long enough that her eyes swelled up puffy, and short enough that the sobs were still wreaking havoc when a persistent knock sounded on the window.
Startled, Brooke looked up to see Dylan standing at her window, his eyes filled with compassion.
Brooke managed to unlock the car doors, but she couldn’t do anything else, not even look at Dylan.
Instead of opening her door to talk to her, he came around to the other side, opened the passenger door, and slid into the seat. The next thing she knew, strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her close. With her back heaving with great, shuddering sobs, she couldn’t breathe, let alone object.
“I’m so sorry, Brooke,” Dylan whispered.
“She fired me!” Brooke hiccupped out.
“I know,” Dylan murmured. “But it will be okay. I know it doesn’t feel that way right now, but I promise things will get better.”
Over the next few minutes, Brooke gradually calmed down. She didn’t know if it was more because of Dylan’s continued soothing words as he stroked her hair with gentle fingers, or if it was just because she ran out of tears. Her sobs lessened to where they were just a shuddering catch in her breathing, and she became aware of the discomfort of the gear shifter digging into her hip as she leaned over it in Dylan’s arms.
Coming to her senses, she pulled away and wiped at her eyes. “How did you know?” She asked, her voice still raw from crying so hard.
“Tylee called me,” he answered. Though he allowed her to pull away, he kept her hand securely in his. “Apparently, Helen called Tylee to tell her she’d let you go and that she needed her to hurry back to help close the shop. Even though Tylee was very upset, she still managed to call me when you were fired, just as I’d asked.”
“Wait, you knew I was going to be fired?”
Dylan nodded. “Sort of. I didn’t have any inside information, but from hearing and watching Mrs. Garrison and the comments in the community, I was fairly certain you would be fired. With her anger level and the fact that she’s never bothered trying to defend you to anyone, it seemed like you were the scapegoat. Firing you after you got her through the worst of the fallout seemed the logical next step, at least in her mind.”
“And you asked Tylee to call you when that happened?” Brooke kept her gaze on their clasped hands. She still didn’t understand why he was here.
“Yes, I did,” Dylan said, his gaze steady. “On my way out of the shop earlier today, I stopped and told Tylee what I thought was going to happen. Helen was busy on the phone. I gave Tylee my number and asked her to please call me as soon as you were fired.”
“Why would you do that?” Brooke asked, looking at him in complete confusion. Why would he care, especially when she’d treated him so terribly?
“I thought you might need a friend,” he said simply.
Brooke paused, her throat constricting with emotion. “Thank you,” she said finally, feeling a few more tears escape. “I really appreciate it.” Feeling ashamed of her behavior this morning and ashamed at her out of control emotions, she dared not look at Dylan. Even when he gently squeezed her hand, she kept her eyes averted.
Wiping hastily at her tears, she reached for her phone as an excuse to release Dylan’s hand. Her finger swiped the button, and the time came on the screen. “Oh no! I need to go now or else I’m going to be late!”
“Brooke, you aren’t in any condition to drive,” Dylan protested. “Let me drive you where you need to go. Then you can either pick up your car later, or I can come back for it.”
Brooke hesitated. She didn’t want him to drive her, but she also didn’t want him to launch into an analysis of why she was unfit to drive. And she most definitely didn’t want her swollen, watery eyes that she could barely see out of to be a topic of conversation.
“Come on, Brooke,” Dylan persisted. “I don’t have anything else to do. Let me be your chauffeur. Where do you need to go?”
Brooke’s eyes filled with tears again, and her face crumpled. “I have to go to church!” she sniffled. “Isn’t that terrible that someone who claims to be a Christian and goes to church talks to anyone the way I talked to you today? I’m a pretty lousy example of a Christian!”
Dylan laughed and cupped her wet cheek with his hand. “No, I don’t think you’re a lousy Christian; I think you’re a real one. I don’t pretend to be the authority on Christianity, but I do think that everyone makes mistakes. And I don’t think being a Christian disqualifies you from that.”
Brooke tried to steady her breathing. “I really am sorry about the way I treated you earlier. I was rude and said some very hurtful things. My only excuse is that I was really stressed, and that isn’t much of an excuse at all.”
“You’re forgiven,” Dylan said simply. “I know you were stressed, and I shouldn’t have asked you then. I was just worried because if you got fired like I suspected you would, then I would have no way to contact you. I don’t even have your phone number. But I guess that doesn’t matter much now. Everything worked out, and I got the job of your chauffeur! Now hop out and let’s go take my car.”
Brooke got out and followed Dylan to his silver Porsche. Sliding into the passenger seat, she asked, “Are you sure you don’t mind taking me to church? I’m in charge of a children’s craft for tonight’s service.”
“I don’t mind at all,” Dylan said, starting the engine. “In spite of what you may think, I’m not a complete heathen. My grandmother was a devout Christian.”
They kept the conversation blessedly light-hearted as Brooke directed him to the church. As he pulled into the parking lot, Brooke yanked down the overhead mirror and tried to fix the damage to her makeup. She did the best she could, cleaning the mess up and adding a little powder, but it was woefully inadequate, and she couldn’t hide the fact that she had been crying.
Giving up, she got out of the car.
Dylan met her as she stepped out, saying, “Look at me.”
Brooke’s eyes swung to his, and she held still as he gave her face a thorough inspection, his eyes gliding over her forehead, cheeks, eyes, nose, and then lingering on her lips.
“You look fine,” he declared finally. “But you are a little pale. If you want, I can say something to really embarrass you and add a little color to your cheeks.”
“No,” Brooke said quickly. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”
Briskly she turned and began str
iding toward the church while Dylan followed.
“I offer other options as well,” he said to her back. “Options that I’m sure I would find very enjoyable.”
Brooke couldn’t stop a laugh. He had spent an extra long time with his gaze on her lips!
Putting a finger to her lips to silence him, she sent a chiding look over her shoulder. “We are going to church!”
With an overly innocent expression on his face, Dylan asked sweetly, “Rain check?”
Laughing and shaking her head, Brooke led the way through the front doors of the church.
“My part with the kids is at the very beginning during the worship service,” she explained. “Then they go to their other activities, and I am free to go to the sermon. You are welcome to go into the sanctuary. Do you want me to meet you there when I’m done?”
“Can I just come with you and be your assistant?” he asked, his face boyish and hopeful.
“Sure,” Brooke said, leading the way to the children’s area.
Entering the room, she quickly got busy, taking Dylan's offer of help seriously.
“We made these last week,” she said, picking up a pile of small colorful papers. “Now the kids will trace around a leaf pattern and then cut out their leaf. Then they need to think of one thing they are thankful for and write it on the leaf.”
Dylan picked up one of the papers and held it up to the light. “Are these coffee filters?” he asked curiously.
“Yes, they are,” Brooke confirmed. “The kids colored them autumn colors with markers. Then we sprayed the filters with water, which made the colors blend together. Aren’t they pretty? I just love the way they dried.”
It also gave her an insane amount of pleasure to know that this large stack of coffee filters would be used for a purpose other than coffee. She almost felt as if she’d won at least one battle against “Team Coffee,” and it felt good!
“So how do you want me to help?” Dylan asked.
