A Bouquet of Love

by Janice Thompson

  “Cassia Bethesda Pappas, is there something you wish to tell me?” My father turned to me, crossing his arms at his chest. “Are you . . .” I almost thought he would say “expecting,” but thank God, he did not. Instead, he said, “M-married?”

  “Me? Married?” I shook my head. Violently. “No way. I would never do that, Babbas.”

  “You mean you wouldn’t ever get married?” Twila pouted. “That’s disappointing news. I felt sure you and Alex would be perfect for one another.”

  “No, I mean I wouldn’t get married without my father’s approval,” I explained. I offered Babbas what I hoped was a convincing smile. “And I would never ever consider getting married without Babbas giving me away. Never. Ever.”

  From the look in his eye, he would be willing to give me away at this very second. Toss me out of the family ASAP. “So, you’re not married,” he said. “But these women are talking about babies. Perhaps there is something else we should be discussing”—he glared at the women and then back at me—“privately.”

  “No, no!” Twila waved her hand in dismissive fashion. “You’ve misunderstood, Mr. Pappas. We are simply commenting that Cassia and Alex would make a lovely couple. Someday. And maybe, with your approval and blessing, they might someday marry.”

  “And make lovely babies.” Jolene jabbed my father in the side with her elbow.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to avoid the glare. Finally courageous enough to give Babbas a peek, I opened one eye.

  Twila gazed at my mother. “I see where Cassia gets her beauty. This one is a Greek goddess.” She stepped in Mama’s direction and leaned in close. Maybe a little too close.

  “Greek goddess?” My mother’s cheeks, already rouged beyond what was acceptable, flamed in a rosier-than-usual shade. “Why, thank you. I think.”

  “Great bone structure,” Jolene said. “And so tall and stately, all of you.”

  “Th-thank you.” I hardly knew what else to say.

  Twila gave my mother’s overly made-up face a close look. “I hope you don’t mind my saying so, but you’re quite the artist.”

  “Artist?” My mother looked around the room and then shrugged. Apparently she didn’t get it. Twila was clearly referring to Mama’s makeup job.

  If I had any lingering doubts, they were answered when Jolene pointed a plump index finger at Mama’s teal eyelids. “Your use of color is . . . so creative!”

  “Oh, you think so?” My mother reached inside her pocket and came out with a small travel-size makeup case. “If you like that one, I’ve got plenty more. Caribbean turquoise, sunset magenta, purple pizzazz.”

  The three Splendora Sisters gathered around her like chicks around a mama hen.

  “I’ve always loved a good color palette,” Twila said. “But it’s what’s underneath that counts.”

  “What’s underneath?” Mama looked perplexed.

  “Good skin, lovey,” Twila explained. “Great pores. I always say a house is only as firm as its foundation.”

  “Ah.” Mama glanced at her appearance in a small compact mirror. “And my foundation is . . . ?”

  “Solid as Mount Ararat.” Twila took the compact and stared at her own reflection, smacked her lips, then gave it back to Mama. “The perfect canvas for a spectacular masterpiece.”

  I wasn’t quite sure how to take that last comment but decided not to chime in. Mama and the women became fast friends within minutes. This warmed my heart, in part because my mother really needed friends. I went to the kitchen to fetch Alex, who joined us again, relieved to be past the awkwardness from a few moments before. If our relationship survived today’s chaos, we were truly destined to be together.

  A short time after the ladies arrived, Jasmine and Lily showed up. Jasmine had something on her blouse—red sauce of some sort. When Twila pointed it out, she shrugged.

  “What do you expect? We just had the yummiest pizza ever. You know I’m a mess when I eat pizza.”

  “Pizza?” Babbas came close. “Did someone say pizza?”

  Before the girls could answer, I distracted them. “Babbas, Jasmine here is a candy maker. You should see some of the things she’s done. Maybe we could sell them here at the shop.”

  “Do you think?” Jasmine’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that would be wonderful. I could do some really fun molds. What do you think? The Parthenon? Greek statues? Ooh, it would be so much fun.” She looked at my father. “I work in chocolates. Sometimes caramel and hard candy, but mostly chocolates. Do you like truffles?”

  Minutes later we were gathered around Darian’s laptop looking at pictures from Jasmine’s Facebook page.

  “Do you share the recipes?” Mama asked. “I’d love to learn.”

  “Never!” Jasmine laughed. “You’re asking for top-secret information.”

  “She won’t even tell me.” Lily rolled her eyes. “Not that I’m really interested in candy making.”

  “Well, I am.” Mama practically drooled as she looked over the photos on the screen. “Man, this is making me hungry.”

  As she flipped through the pictures, I found myself growing hungrier by the moment. Yum. This girl didn’t just make candy, she created masterpieces. I watched in awe as photos of dozens of themed candies rolled by on the screen. Baby shower goodies, birthday sweets, Valentine’s treats, but most of all, wedding-themed candies. Gifts for brides to give their bridesmaids, favors for wedding guests—on and on the goodies went.

  My favorites were the bride and groom cameos, perfectly defined in white and dark chocolate. Then again, the chocolate roses really took my breath away. So did the sea salt caramels, the chocolate and pecan turtles, and the chocolate seashells with their various colors. In the end, though, a wedding cake composed entirely of chocolate candies won my heart. I’d love to have that at my own wedding. Someday.

  By the time we finished looking at the photos, I was practically drooling too.

  “Want a sample?” Jasmine whispered. “I take some with me wherever I go.”

  “Are you serious?”

  She opened her large purse and came out with a bag of sweets. Babbas’s eyes bugged out of his head as she laid out the goods on the counter. It all looked so tempting, but I hated to eat something she’d probably spent hours making.

  That didn’t stop me, however. I nibbled one of the chocolate cameos first, then a turtle. Oh, yum.

  Babbas loved the peppermint-flavored chocolates and decided to repay Jasmine’s kindness by offering her a tray of baklava to take home to her family.

  When the chocolates were gone, the conversation really took off. Eva and I served up samples of our food to our new guests at no charge—Babbas insisted. They sat at the table nearest the counter and gabbed with Mama at length. The time passed quickly, the sound of laughter ringing out across the shop all the while. I couldn’t remember when I’d ever had a better time.

  Several times I looked at Alex, who gave me a wink. My heart fluttered whenever our eyes met. If life got any better, I might just have to throw a party. Then again, we were already having one, weren’t we? Yes, with the ladies now fully engrossed in a song—one with three-part harmony—we even had entertainment at our little soiree.

  Babbas, never one to be outdone, decided the Pappas family singers needed to show off the new jingle. As much as I hated to do it, I led my siblings and parents through the song for our guests, even clapping at the end.

  Twila proclaimed it to be the best she’d ever heard.

  That was when an idea hit me. I glanced at Alex. “There’s your answer, Alex. You need a jingle for your family’s company? These ladies are perfect to sing it.”

  Apparently that line opened up a whole new discussion. Twenty minutes later the three ladies had not only written the perfect little song for Rigas Roses, but they’d developed harmonies and a great tagline to go along with it.

  “How do you do that?” Mama asked.

  “Oh, it’s just a gift, honey.” Twila giggled, then she turned her attent
ion to me. She reached for my hand and I gave it to her, not quite ready for the hearty squeeze that followed. “In all the excitement of the day, I keep forgetting to tell you how thrilled I was to hear the news.”

  “News? About Alex naming the new roses after me?”

  “Oh, well, that too, but I’m talking about the pizza!”

  At this, you could’ve heard a pin drop.

  Twila continued to squeeze my hand, her face beaming. “Bella told me that Laz named his new Greek pizza after you! That Venus Flytrap one.”

  She’d no sooner spoken these words than my father stopped working behind the counter and stared at me. I heard the Munchkins—no, the evil monkeys—singing in my head, their piercing voices nearly drowning out Twila’s next words.

  “We had several pieces of that yummy deliciousness less than an hour ago, and it’s perfect, just like you!” Twila let out a girlish sigh and released her hold on my hand. “Laz said your recipe was the best thing that’s ever happened to Parma John’s, and I’m inclined to agree.”

  “Easy on the figure too.” Bonnie Sue placed her fists on her ample hips. “I like that.”

  “Just had a large slice,” Jasmine said. “So yummy.”

  Babbas took a step from behind the counter and cleared his throat, his presence quietly menacing. The evil monkeys increased their song. Oh-EE-oh. Oh-OH-oh.

  Twila looked back and forth between my parents and me. “I think it’s just the sweetest thing, your two families getting along so well. Brotherly love does the heart good. God bless you all.”

  “Oh my, yes,” Jolene agreed. “Other restaurants might compete, so it pleases the Lord’s heart to see folks being neighborly.” She turned and faced my mother. “And I just think it’s the sweetest thing in the world that you and Imelda are so friendly and all. She cherishes your little notes, says they always brighten her day.”

  Mama froze in her tracks. Behind me, I heard Eva make a mad dash out of the room. No doubt she figured she’d be next. Darian eased his way into the kitchen. Coward.

  Babbas didn’t say a word. Not a word. Neither did Mama, though her eyes now bugged out of her head. No doubt my father would wait to kill us until after the guests left. Keeping up appearances and all that. With our secrets now told, I could sense the man behind the curtain controlling levers that would send all of us to a place we didn’t care to go.

  If I could find a hot air balloon right about now, I’d climb aboard and sail away—far, far away.

  20

  For Me and My Gal

  You might be Greek if you show up late for most of your appointments but would never consider being late for a day with the guy (or girl) of your dreams.

  From the moment the Splendora Sisters left Super-Gyros on Saturday evening, I braced myself for the inevitable. At any moment Babbas would blow like a top. The rest of us tiptoed around him all night, but he never said a word. Not a word. Of course, his tight expression spoke volumes, but at least those volumes were silent.

  Poor Mama. She moved like a robot, scurrying around the apartment, cleaning everything in sight. When Babbas fell asleep in the recliner, she left him there. Probably a wise move on her part.

  Sunday we all went to church, as usual. No longer concerned that my father would discover my friendship with Scarlet, I visited with her after the service while my parents chatted with her father. Everything felt so . . . normal. Miraculously normal.

  The miracles continued into Monday morning, but they didn’t involve my father. No, this time they involved my love life and my career.

  Now, I’d seen a lot of romance movies over the years. I’d dreamed of the perfect guy a thousand times. Even thought I’d found him a time or two back in Santa Cruz. But never once did I picture my love life getting a jump start in the walk-in refrigerator at a florist shop just days after my father found out I’d betrayed him.

  It happened Monday morning, a couple of hours after I arrived at the florist shop. Alex came by to make his delivery and asked me to hold the door of the walk-in refrigerator while he stepped inside with the buckets. When he lost his hold on one of them, I ran to his side to catch it. As I did so, the door closed behind me.

  I didn’t really give it much thought for a minute or two. After all, we were pretty busy picking up flowers from the floor and putting them back into the bucket.

  Only when I tried to open the door and found it sealed shut did I start to wonder if we might have a problem. Seconds later a chill set in and I started shivering.

  Alex took a couple of hesitant steps in my direction and opened his arms in invitation. “C’mon. Don’t worry. I’ll warm you up.”

  Before I could think of a way to say, “Good Greek girls don’t cuddle,” he’d swept me into his arms and held me close.

  “Feeling better now, little missy?”

  “Mm-hmm.” I nodded and felt myself start to warm up.

  He kissed the top of my head, and this time the shivers that ran down my back were for a completely different reason. By the time his lips reached mine, I didn’t care about the temperature anymore.

  Who says it’s cold in here?

  After several more kisses, Alex took a little step back. “Don’t want to get too carried away,” he said, then winked.

  I would’ve winked back, but my eyelashes were starting to ice over. The shivering started again, and Alex pulled me close once more. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I get locked in here at least once a week. But it’s never really locked. The seal around the door is just tight.”

  “I got stuck in our fridge in Santa Cruz once,” I said. “But my brothers were just playing a trick on me. They were blocking the door from the outside.”

  “Boys.” He laughed. “Can’t live with ’em, can’t live without ’em.”

  “Not so sure about that last part.” I chuckled and then gave him a little kiss on the cheek. “If you ever met my older brothers you’d know what I mean.” No sooner were the words spoken than I regretted them. “Shouldn’t have said that. Both of my older brothers are still in Santa Cruz, running the restaurant there. I miss them.”

  “In spite of their pranks?” he asked.

  I nodded and another shiver wriggled over me.

  Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on how you looked at it—Marcella opened the door just a few seconds later. Her mouth rounded into a perfect O as she took in the sight of the two of us wrapped in a tight embrace. “Want me to close the door?” she asked and then giggled.

  “N-no.” My teeth chattered as I shot out of Alex’s arms and into the warmth of the shop. “I j-j-just need to w-w-warm up.” I sprinted to the front door of the shop and swung it open, grateful for the heat streaming down on me as I stood in direct sunlight. Through the plate-glass window I caught a glimpse of Alex chatting with Marcella, who now stood behind the register. He must’ve said something to make her laugh, because she doubled over.

  A few seconds later, he joined me outside. “You okay out here?”

  “Yep. Just warming up.” And trying to get over the embarrassment of being caught in your arms.

  “Oh, I don’t know. I thought things were warming up nicely in there.” He gave me a little nudge with his elbow, and I nearly lost my balance.

  “I should probably get back inside. Marcella’s going to wonder why she’s paying me.”

  When I arrived back inside, Marcella was on the phone. Turned out the call was for me. Bella. I took it with some degree of hesitation, wondering if my father had done something to set off alarm bells on the Greek/Italian end of the Strand.

  “Hey, Cassia.” Bella’s happy-go-lucky voice sounded as normal and chipper as ever. “Just wanted to run something by you.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yep. Can you swing by Club Wed tomorrow afternoon for a meeting? I’ve already cleared it with Marcella. She’s fine with giving you some time off.”

  “Sure, but . . . a meeting? What for?”

  “I’ve got plans, and they involve you,
Cassia.”

  “Me?” This certainly got my attention.

  “Yes. I’ve set up a new vendors’ area in the front of the wedding facility. You can ask Marcella about it. Some of Gabi’s best dresses are hanging there. A couple of sample cakes from Scarlet—dummies, of course. And photographs that Hannah and her husband Drew have taken. They’re all on my preferred vendors list. I recommend these people to my incoming clients.”

  “I heard about it. Sounds great.”

  “Thanks. I’m grateful to Gabi’s fiancé for helping spread the word in Texas Bride.”

  “No way.” The local vendors were all featured in a major magazine? Lucky ducks.

  “I’ve been promoting Marcella and the flower shop all along, but now it’s time to add you to the list.”

  “Me?”

  “Yep. Now that you’re going to be taking Marcella’s place at the shop, it only makes sense. But I’ll need a good photo of you, one where you’re surrounded by flowers. Do you have one like that?”

  “No—wait. Taking her place at the shop?” Had Marcella told Bella that she’d offered to sell me the business? I hadn’t agreed. Couldn’t possibly.

  Bella didn’t answer my question. She seemed far too preoccupied planning my future. “Just c’mon by tomorrow afternoon if you can, okay? I’ll get Hannah to stop by to grab some photos of you out by the gazebo. We’ve got some beautiful azaleas blooming out there.”

  She’d lost me back at the moment when she said I’d be taking Marcella’s place. Surely she’d misunderstood something I’d said. Or maybe something Marcella had said. Yes, that was it. Just a big misunderstanding.

  Still, how could I in good conscience show up for a photo shoot like the one she continued to describe? I needed to talk to Marcella, to get her perspective on all this. She could straighten things out with Bella. We needed to move quickly, though, what with Hannah agreeing to meet me at Club Wed tomorrow afternoon at three to take the photos. Man.

  On the other hand, what would it hurt to have a few photos taken with some lovely flowers? Even if they didn’t land in the vendors’ area at Club Wed, they might come in handy at the shop someday. I reluctantly agreed to meet the ladies at Club Wed.