Romancing the Flower Shop Girl: A Sweet Romantic Comedy

by Angie Pepper

  He pointed to the graffiti with the toe of his black loafer.

  “This is just the beginning,” he said. “Trust me.”

  She returned to dabbing fresh paint over the graffiti.

  “We get tagged once a year,” she said. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

  He let out a ho-ho-ho type of laugh. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll be under protection,” he said, his voice ominous. “You and your shop.”

  She set down the paint brush and gave him what he wanted, her full attention.

  “What are you talking about? I might be out of touch with all the local gossip since my mom’s out of town. Why don’t you explain it to me?”

  Mr. Jackson raised his eyebrows higher and higher. “Well, you’ll be protected because you’re running around with the biker, obviously.”

  “What biker? Luca Lowell? He rides a bike, sure, but what does that have to do with anything? Have you been sending emails to my mother?”

  He didn’t answer her question. He gave her a knowing look and said, “You should be careful.”

  “About what? Luca bought Ralph’s Garage so he could fix bikes. He’s not running a crime ring.”

  “The whole bike thing is just a cover. That’s what I heard.”

  “Mr. Jackson, once you see the beautiful renovation he’s doing, you’ll be ashamed of yourself for spreading rumors about him.”

  Her final words were drowned out by the sound of a motorcycle driving past them on the street.

  Mr. Jackson glared down the street after the bike. “See, that’s what I’m talking about. This street’s going downhill. We never used to get those noisy bikes up and down this street.”

  “That’s not new. We’ve always had—”

  He cut her off. “And now it’s all day long. Do you know some of them modify the mufflers so they’re even louder? Those people like nothing more than disturbing nice folks trying to have a relaxing beer on the patio.”

  “We’ve always had bikes along this street. You’ve got bike parking in front of your pub. I’m sure a couple more won’t be a big deal. It might be good for your business.”

  Mr. Jackson snorted. “You should be careful who you associate yourself with,” he said.

  “Is that a threat?” She turned and looked at the graffiti. It was a really large tag, covering half the width of the storefront. “Mr. Jackson, do you know anything about who spray-painted this? Is it some sort of warning, because I’m dating Luca?”

  He huffed and shuffled his feet. “I don’t like to get involved in politics.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked away quickly.

  Tina finished painting over the tag. It had been years since she’d painted that section of wall, and the new paint was brighter. She’d have to get the roller and do the entire front, or at least the lower half.

  Two ladies with strollers walked by, slowing to whisper to each other, eyeballing Tina the whole time. They didn’t stop to ask what she was doing.

  Tina quickly tidied up and retreated inside.

  When she opened the register to double-check the float, her hand was shaking.

  Why did Monday have to come along and ruin everything? She’d had such a nice weekend, spending most of it with Luca.

  Her weekend had been perfect, and her life had seemed idyllic. No arrested development. Just a nice, completely appropriate life for a twenty-nine-year-old in the city.

  Now it was Monday, and the cracks were showing.

  Chapter 21

  Tina didn’t see Luca for a few days. He’d been busy getting the garage ready to reopen on the weekend.

  He did sneak away to see her on Thursday night. He came by her place and missed bumping into Rory by about ten minutes.

  Rory had been there doing another great catering job for the couple. The meal wasn’t as elaborate as the first one, but in some ways that made it better. Luca said that if meatloaf and mashed potatoes and green beans hadn’t been his favorite before, it certainly was now.

  Over dinner, Luca talked about the problems with his contractors. Tina kept up with him, even the stuff about the itemized breakdowns of budgets, and which subtrade went over on what. Tina understood cash flow and budgets because of her work at the flower shop, but keeping up with Luca was a challenge. He would abruptly switch from one story straight into another, suddenly talking about a different guy entirely.

  Tina smiled and played along, asking questions to let him know he was being heard. “Was Tim the plumber who put the drains in crooked?”

  “You can’t put drains in crooked. They’re circular. You can’t make a circle crooked. Tim is the electrician who put in the switch plate covers crooked.”

  “Too bad switch plate covers aren’t circular,” she said.

  He chortled as he took another big bite of meatloaf, then struggled to keep it in his mouth. After swallowing, he said, “Good one, Flower Shop Girl. Don’t hit me with one of your jokes while I’m taking a drink.” He picked up the glass of sparkling water and watched her carefully as he took a sip.

  Tina didn’t want to hear much more about Tim and the Case of the Crooked Switch Plate Covers. She took the opportunity to ask him about more personal stuff. Not the sad details of life after his mother died when he was five, but tales about what it was like to grow up with his dad and uncle. She imagined that a home with only men would have been very different from her own upbringing. Almost the exact opposite.

  Tina scooped more food onto her hungry guy’s plate and asked, “Did your father keep motorbikes in the house?”

  “He sure did, when he ran out of room in the garage.” Luca looked off into the distance—which wasn’t very far, since they were inside Tina’s small cottage.

  “That must have been fun,” she said. “A house with three guys and no rules.”

  “There were some rules,” he said. “Not many.”

  “I’d love to hear more about it.”

  “After things settle down with the garage, I’ll take you out to the farm to meet my dad. I should probably warn you, though, he’s eccentric.”

  “If he’s anything like you, I’m sure we’ll get along fine.”

  Luca smiled. “And what about your father? He’s out of the picture?”

  “Long gone out of the picture.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Oh, he’s not dead,” she said. “We see each other a few times a year, when he’s in town.” She wrinkled her nose. “He’s always trying to talk me into going back to school, or doing something different with my life. He means well, but he doesn’t know me.”

  “I’m sure he knows you better than you think he does.”

  There was something in Luca’s tone that put her on edge.

  “No,” she said. “He doesn’t know me. Just because your dad is some sort of macho hero that you idolize, that doesn’t mean all dads are like that.”

  “I never said that.” He set his fork down. “I didn’t say that at all.”

  Tina got up quickly, banging the chair against the nearby kitchen counter. Why was there no space? Everything was up against everything else. Was the house getting smaller by the day?

  Luca watched her. He’d taken notice that something was happening. She knew because he’d stopped eating, and there was still food on his plate.

  He looked at her and asked, “What’s up, Flower Shop Girl?”

  “Stop calling me that! I’m not a girl. I’m almost thirty.”

  He ducked his head, swallowed, then said, “Okay. Noted. My cute nickname has officially worn out its welcome.”

  “Luca, I may not be a world traveler and adventurer like you, or someone who goes around real estate agents to make deals on a business, or argues with about a hundred contractors—seriously, is there any contractor in this entire city that you’re satisfied with?—but I’ll tell you one thing. I know who I am.” She patted her chest. “And I know when other people don’t know who I am.”

  He leaned back in his chair and look
ed around slowly, his gaze settling on the framed photos over the mantel.

  “And who are you, Tina? All those photos are a decade old. And you still won’t tell me about that prom picture.”

  She crossed her arms. “My pictures are old because people don’t get photos printed anymore. It’s all digital.”

  He waved one big hand dismissively. “All that digital stuff is a waste of time.”

  “Well, good for you, that you’re too good for it. We can’t all be big, burly know-it-alls with a bunch of money and their own houses and garages, now can we?”

  He winced then clenched his jaw. “I earned that money. Nobody handed me anything. As for the house, you should have seen the place when I moved in. I never had anything easy. I moved away from home when I was eighteen.”

  She kept her arms crossed. “Good for you. When I was eighteen, I held the love of my life while he died in front of me.”

  A flash of expression passed over Luca’s face before it went blank. He looked away.

  Gruffly, he said, “I’m sorry.”

  That was when Tina realized he didn’t know about her past. She’d assumed that he knew, thanks to Megan and her big blabbermouth. She’d hoped that he knew, so that she wouldn’t have to tell him. Especially not like that.

  She was too wound up to stop now. She was backed up, hemmed in by her own little house, pinned in place by her own tiny kitchen, so she kept fighting.

  “If you think I don’t appreciate the gift of my life, you’re wrong,” she said. “I feel it every day. This gift. This burden. I’m alive, and he isn’t, and it’s not fair. He was a better person than me, in every way. He gave everything.”

  Her jaw ached like it was broken.

  Luca was quiet, looking away.

  Tina’s body shook and then trembled, and then that was it. No sobs. She felt herself go limp.

  Tina hated to say his name, but it was the next word that came out of her mouth, and it brought the rest. “Jonathan was a good person. He never held anything back, and no matter how bad things got, he always said it was what he wanted. He always said he wouldn’t change a thing.”

  Luca turned his face toward the mantel, toward the shrine of decade-old photos. His voice soft and low, he said simply, “His name was Jonathan.” He took a breath. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Well, you should be,” she said. Then, realizing that made no sense, said, “Thanks. It was a long time ago. I’m over it.”

  Luca should have kept his mouth shut, and he did. He also should have kept a poker face, but he didn’t.

  Luca lifted one eyebrow in a gesture of oh-really?

  It pushed her over the edge.

  “You should go,” she said, her voice thin and cold.

  “We’re not going to talk about this?”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. I hope your opening goes well on Saturday. Don’t worry about me making a scene, because I won’t be coming.”

  “You won’t come to my grand opening?”

  She turned her back to him. “Honestly, I don’t see the point. Just go.”

  She heard the sound of his chair being pushed back. “I don’t like seeing this side of you,” he said.

  If only he’d used different words to express what he meant, which was that he didn’t like seeing her upset. But he didn’t have any help with his composition, and he couldn’t have known that what Tina heard that night in the cabin was I don’t like you.

  She said, “Me neither, but I don’t have a choice.”

  “You’re shutting me out.”

  “Just go.”

  She heard him moving around, pulling on his boots and getting his leather jacket from the closet.

  Without a word, he opened the front door, stepped out, and gently closed it again. He couldn’t have known it, but she heard him sigh, because the windows were open.

  After she was sure he was gone, Tina locked the door, closed all the windows and blinds, and opened the coat closet. She pushed out the shoes and settled onto the floor, her legs folded up in front of her. She pulled the door shut behind her and buried her face between the jackets.

  Safe at last in the smallest of spaces, Tina Gardenia completely disappeared.

  Chapter 22

  Ralph’s Garage had its grand re-opening on Saturday. Tina did not attend.

  For the occasion, Gardenia Flowers sent over a tasteful arrangement. Tina considered signing her name on the card, or writing a personal note, but didn’t.

  She wrote, in block letters: Best wishes from Gardenia Flowers.

  As far as Tina knew, the opening went well. The only motorbike “gang” to show up was a group of senior citizens who toured on road bikes together.

  A month passed. Folks on the street were still concerned about the neighborhood changing, and biker gangs rolling in.

  A second month passed. Folks on the street raved about how amazing Luca Lowell was, and how he had his best mechanic give their car a tuneup, and it had never run better.

  A third month passed. Folks weren’t talking about Ralph’s Garage or Luca Lowell anymore. Mostly they were up in arms about the kid selling ice cream from his car without a license.

  It was a typical summer on Baker Street.

  Fall was around the corner.

  Tina’s sister, Megan, provided all the updates about what was going on at the garage. Megan bumped into Luca from time to time on Baker Street. Unlike Tina, she hadn’t switched her route to always detour through the alley to avoid him. Unlike Tina, she hadn’t quit visiting the local restaurants and getting her tea from Delilah’s.

  Megan reported that there was a petite woman with dark hair who dropped by the garage regularly. Luca had apparently moved on with his life.

  Luca and Tina hadn’t spoken to each other since the night he left her place.

  That had been three months ago.

  Three long months ago.

  Sometimes Tina was sad their fling hadn’t lasted a little longer. Other times, she was relieved, because he hadn’t left too big a hole in her soul, and the wound that was there felt like it might close up any day.

  Another positive thing about the whole Luca debacle was that it helped Tina get through the prom season with very few tears shed.

  There’d been a day, between date five and date six, that a teenage boy had come in asking for blue flowers, to match his date’s dress. Tina had laughed and talked the poor kid’s ear off for an hour, telling him about her own prom, and how Jonathan had bought her a blue rose from another flower shop so he could surprise her. She told the kid about her pale-blue dress, and how everyone thought she looked like a bride. She also told him how her friends all got drunk in the bathroom, but that she was wise, and wouldn’t drink their smuggled booze.

  She had drunk the booze, as much as any of them, but changed that detail because she was trying to be a good role model. The alcohol had been someone’s family’s moonshine, which had been brewed in a bathtub from who knows what. Two of Tina’s friends—a couple who were now married with a baby on the way—threw up all over the dance floor. Everyone ran outside because of the smell.

  The janitors had gone home for the night, so the DJ pointed the speakers at the open gym doors, and everyone danced the last songs of the night outside, under the stars.

  It wasn’t until telling the kid with the corsage order about the good things that had happened that night that Tina had been able to fully and completely remember everything.

  She’d almost forgotten about those last songs, those last dances under the stars, her head swimming from the disgusting moonshine.

  Tina suspected that time was tricky, and nonlinear, like a road map that was folded like a paper fan. Thanks to the folds, two cities that were miles apart in reality could come together and touch. When it came to memories, anniversaries were those points on the map that folded back and touched each other. Sometimes the folding of time made things jumbled, so it felt like everything on the tops of the fold lines was
happening at once, but really there was so much space in between everything if you let it stretch out.

  That day in the flower shop, between dates five and six, the road map of Tina’s life was folded a different way, collapsing in between an entirely different set of points. And wasn’t that wonderful?

  The boy she was talking to wasn’t sure why she was even talking to him, let alone about the philosophy of time, but he was polite, and he let her talk. Folks in the neighborhood were nice to each other like that.

  When the boy left, Tina realized she’d been smiling the whole time. Smiling so much her face hurt.

  That particular day, at that particular time, Tina Gardenia’s collected memories of her first love contained more joy than pain. It was as though time had bleached out all the sorrow, the way that a bright golden sun fades the blue dye in a rose.

  Chapter 23

  Megan Gardenia leaned over her sister, putting the finishing touches on Tina’s hair.

  It was August now, and Tina hardly ever thought about Luca. But she also hadn’t been on any other dates.

  Tonight was the annual Baker Street block party. Folks barricaded the street at either end of a five-block span, and people from all over the city would come to enjoy a party that went until midnight.

  Lots of people dressed up for the party in summer-themed costumes, or at least got their faces painted—adults alongside kids.

  Megan and Tina had been going as “flower girls” every year, and tonight was no exception. Megan had already braided her hair and twisted the braids around her head in a crown, and she did the same for Tina. The sisters had moved on to decorating their crowns, adding more fresh-cut flowers than most people would think was reasonable.

  “It’s getting heavy,” Tina said, complaining.

  “Shut up. We can get a few more flowers on your head,” Megan said.

  They were in the flower shop, and Rory was sitting nearby, reading gossip magazines that were several months old.

  Without even looking up from the magazine, Rory said, “You two look perfect. Let’s go eat.”