"Good point. But that's when I'm talking to friends. Flowers on Valentine's Day are different."
I straightened the red velvet bow on the last vase. It was filled with the traditional dozen long stem red roses complimented with frilly green fern and dainty white baby's breath. "I take it this is the 'love you, can't get enough of you, be mine forever' bouquet."
He pointed at me. "That's perfect. I couldn't think up a good name for it. Although, it might be too long for the chalkboard."
"They're beautiful, Ryder. The customers will love them." I couldn't hold back a curious grin. "And if you don't mind me asking, which one will you be giving to your new special friend, Cherise?"
"Oh, that's easy. We are still at the chillin' stage. But we're getting closer to the 'I think we have something here' bouquet."
The goat bell clanged and Lola walked inside. "Who has something? What are we talking about?" My best friend Lola, the interminable flirt, had fallen head over heels for Ryder the first second she met him. (She tended to fall head over heels a lot.) But the second he returned the interest, she flipped back to her feet and the crush ended. That was when I concluded that Lola was more interested in the chase than the catch. The addition of Cherise, Ryder's new friend, seemed to be changing the dynamic again. As a former scientist. it was interesting to watch from a purely social science perspective. Not so much from a best friend perspective, especially when Lola was excited or disappointed or heartbroken about some man she'd met.
Lola stopped at the counter and flashed Ryder a well thought out smile. Just a few weeks earlier, she'd bound into the shop barely giving him a glance. Ryder had been plenty hurt by her lack of attention. But today, it seemed, Lola was giving her lashes an extra flutter or two as she grinned at him.
Lola always wore hats. She had an impressive collection, including some unique, stylish finds from her own antique shop. But lately, she'd been pulling on a knitted beanie, similar to Ryder's. She had braided her curly red hair and she'd pulled on one of her signature concert t-shirts, vintage Bon Jovi, over a long sleeved jersey shirt making her look like a teenager. Ryder was twenty-four, a few years younger than Lola, but I was fairly certain her hair and wardrobe choices had to do with the fact that Cherise was only twenty. My friend was trying to erase a few years to compete with the younger woman.
"These are pretty," Lola noted about the bouquets as she hopped up on one of the stools.
"Ryder designed them. One for each level of a relationship," I added. I pointed to the mix of pink roses and lilies. "This one is the 'I think we have something here' arrangement. I was just asking which one he'd be giving to Cherise." Sometimes I liked to stoke the fire a smidgen just to wake Lola up. Ryder would have been an ideal boyfriend for her. He was polite and kind and funny. And now it seemed she might have lost out on her opportunity. (Which, of course, was why she was suddenly interested again.)
Ryder's face darkened some, and I was mad at myself for bringing up Cherise. I was being a nosy posy. But my little side note had sparked my friend into action.
Lola hopped up off the stool. "I'm not sure Cherise is right for you. She doesn't seem very adventurous, and you are definitely the adventurous type. I, for one, have adventurer at the top of my must-haves list for a mate."
Ryder laughed. "A mate? It sounds like you're looking for a gorilla. And you've misjudged Cherise. She is very adventurous," he said, with not quite the right amount of enthusiasm.
I'd only met Cherise a few times, but it seemed Lola's assessment was more accurate. She was extremely timid but well put together as if every hair had to always be in place. Her winter scarves were always color coordinated with the rest of her outfit. Even her jewelry and earrings matched the overall look. And there was the ritual she went through to avoid any puddles or snow drifts on the sidewalk. Not to mention that she wouldn't step foot into the shop if Kingston was around.
Ryder pushed his bangs out of his eyes. His jaw jutted forward slightly. "In fact, you've just made me change my mind about Valentine's Day. I was going to give Cherise the 'let's keep chillin' bouquet, but I'm going to step it up and give her the pink roses instead."
"Ooh, very bold of you." She shrugged. "Do what you like," Lola said snippily. "Makes no difference to me."
It seemed I'd sparked more than a little flame with my comment. I wasn't sure whether to pat myself on the back or kick myself in the rear. I decided to step in and change the tone. My social science observations had gone far enough for one morning.
"Ryder, would you mind finishing up the inventory list? We need to start thinking about vases and containers for spring. And spring can't come soon enough. I don't think my feet and hands have been warm for months."
"Sure thing, boss." It seemed Ryder had had enough of the conversation as well. He grabbed the clipboard that held the running inventory tallies and headed across the shop to the potting area where the steel shelving held our supply of floral containers.
I turned back to Lola, who was still watching Ryder walk to the opposite side of the store. My crow, who had more than a little crush on Lola, had finished the spilled seeds. He hopped up to the work island to perch close enough to Lola so that she had no choice but to scratch the back of his head. Kingston had come up with his own unique cooing sound that he released only when Lola was scratching him. I had named it the Lola purr.
"I feed him. I clean his cage. I make sure he has toys and treats and never once have I heard that sound. He's absolutely infatuated with you."
"At least someone is." Lola's mouth turned down. "I hate the entire month of February."
"I'm not expecting any big bouquets either, but you don't see me feeling sorry for myself." I picked up the yellow rose bouquet and carried it to the front window.
Lola followed me. "What sort of a dimwit would give a bouquet of flowers to the owner of a flower shop?"
"True but you're purposely ignoring the real point." I placed the arrangement in the window and went back for the next one. Lola followed me.
I grabbed the vase of pink and white flowers and headed back to the window, with my mopey friend close at my heels. I half expected her to start circling my ankles like Nevermore.
"Well, what's the real point?"
I turned around feeling slightly irritated. "That it's just a silly day that's been designed to boost the economy. People spend money on flowers and chocolate and cards to remind someone that they care about them. It's certainly not a big deal if you have no big plans or if you don't have anyone to exchange Valentines with."
Lola put her hands on her hips. "So, if a big heart-shaped box of chocolate came waltzing in with a cluster of cute balloons that said Pink, Be Mine, Love—" She paused and seemed to be reading my face, deciding whether or not to continue. I was sure my expression was clear, but she was apparently irritated with me too. She flailed her arm around toward the door. "Love, James. Or Love, Dash. Then you wouldn't be doing a little happy dance?"
"Sure I would. I love chocolate."
Lola grunted. "You can be so stubborn sometimes. Anyhow, I've got to get back across the street. My parents sent two big boxes of old attic relics from somewhere on the east coast and I've got to comb through the stuff and price it."
"Have fun with your box of relics," I called as Lola pushed out the door.
Chapter 3
It had been a quiet morning and I'd sent Ryder off for an early lunch. He'd skipped breakfast and was feeling the effects of an empty stomach. My legs grew tired from crouching so I sat down on the tile floor to finish organizing the bottom shelves of the work island. Somehow the space, which was too low for convenient use, had become a receptacle for all of our leftover ribbons and tissue. I'd even found a few sprigs of baby's breath that were still fresh enough to use in a bouquet.
The quiet shop and the mindless task of straightening out the remnants of ribbon and tissue gave me time to think. Which wasn't always a good thing. Lola's imagined scenario of my Valentine's Day made me ponder my
own sad relationship state. After my whirlwind romance and short engagement to Jacob Georgio, wealthy heir and now president of Georgio's Perfume, had ended in a cracked but not completely broken heart and dimmed hopes of a happy ever after, I'd found fulfillment in my shop, my independence and my new hometown. But I couldn't deny that my heart occasionally yearned for something more.
I was deep in that thought, trying hard to puzzle out whether or not my relationship with Detective James Briggs was anything more than our common interest in solving crimes, when the goat bell rang. I swept off my pants and my mind meandered through the many flirtatious moments with Dash. Like this morning, even with me draped in an unflattering robe.
"Hello?" a voice called, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Pink?"
I shoved the ribbons I had in my lap back into the bottom shelf and pushed to my feet. "Hazel! I certainly didn't expect to see you."
Hazel pulled off her winter beanie, causing her baby fine hair to stand up all over her head. "You mean you didn't know we were in town?" She held out her arms as I circled the island for a big hug. We held each other for a long moment. Dozens of memories came back to me.
Hummingbird. That was the one word that always came to mind when Hazel Bancroft walked into a room. She was a tiny and delicate woman, who darted around the administrative offices of Georgio's Perfume with the energy of a hummingbird. She was technically Jacob's assistant, but that didn't stop her from pitching in a hand to assist anyone who needed it. I was convinced that she had sugar water in her lunch thermos because rather than slow down after lunch, like most normal humans, Hazel would buzz around the floor accomplishing more than the rest of us put together. She could out multi-task even the greatest of multi-taskers. I'd seen Hazel finish a report, arrange donuts and muffins according to various employee food allergies, set up the board room for an important meeting, and post and distribute the meeting agenda during the span of a normal person's coffee break. And she did it all with a smile.
We parted, and I leaned back to look at her. Hazel and I were both plagued by problem hair, only we were at opposite ends of the misbehaved locks spectrum. I'd spent my entire life fighting a natural curl, and Hazel had been vexed since childhood by hair so straight, so void of curl, there wasn't a hair torture implement on the market that could give her so much as a wave. Hazel had stunning blue eyes that were made even more stunning by the large framed glasses she wore, and it seemed she had never lost her obsession with brightly colored sweaters. The pink and green one she was wearing to ward off the morning chill was bright enough to make my eyes water.
"You haven't aged a day," I said.
"And you're still far too nice." Her gaze swept around to the perch in front of the window where Kingston had positioned himself to watch the birds in the trees outside the shop. Slowly, the wild birds that had flown south in the snowy months were making their way back to town. The trees were starting to sprout leaves along thin, spindly branches, inviting their feathered friends back to roost.
"I see you still have Kingston." Hazel walked a few feet closer but not too close. My coworkers at Georgio's Perfume knew I had a pet crow. In fact, Kingston had been my screen saver at work. But few ever met him in person. The few times I hosted coworkers for dinner, I took care to keep Kingston locked in the bedroom. Unlike my Port Danby friends, my city friends would not have warmed up to a crow standing watch over them while they snacked on cocktail peanuts.
"What brings you to Port Danby?" It was a perfectly logical question, but Hazel looked surprised to hear it.
"I would have thought the news would be all over town. We're here for a photo shoot. I knew I should have sent you an email. I just figured Jacob would contact you."
"Wait. Jacob? Photo shoot? You mean—"
"Yep, the gang's all here. Lydia, and her photography crew. Autumn and Jasper are still the faces of Georgio's Perfume." She framed her own face with her hands and forced a camera ready smile. "And Alexander, of course. He's still location scout. In fact, he saw your Instagram pictures of that creepy old mansion and the wonderful lighthouse. He showed them to Jacob. Jacob decided Port Danby would be an excellent location." She added a mom-like eyebrow lift.
"Don't give me that look, Hazel. I've seen it way too often on my mom's face. At least a half dozen times at Christmas. The engagement ended, and I've never looked back. And I'm sure Jacob hasn't either. Didn't you hint in your last email that he was dating Autumn now?"
Hazel nodded dejectedly. "Unfortunately, that seems to be the case." She plastered on a sympathetic expression, complete with head tilt.
"Seriously, Hazel. I have a life here, a wonderful one at that. I rarely ever think about those days with Jacob." Hazel was one of the few people who was genuinely upset when Jacob and I broke up. The end of our relationship prompted me to take a different career path, a path that led me straight to wonderful Port Danby and Pink's Flowers. Hazel and I had kept in touch through email, but those had mostly fallen off with time. Hazel had never married. Even though she was past forty, she was still living in the small back house at her parents’ home. She had dated Ruben, the warehouse supervisor, for six months, but something happened that made her break it off and fast. She never let on what it was, which was probably a mistake because it led people to imagine a lot of unsavory reasons for the sudden breakup. But for someone like Hazel, it could have been something as simple as Ruben being impolite to a waiter or a doorman. Hazel took pride in being kind and positive and well-liked by everyone.
I needed a new topic. "How exciting to think that my Instagram pictures made enough of an impact that Alexander chose Port Danby for the photo shoot. The Hawksworth Manor is a little run-down, but it has so much character . . . and history."
"I'll say." Hazel's eyes widened behind her lenses, sending a pulse of nostalgia through me. It felt like old times chatting with her about this and that. "I read some of the articles about the place." She was short but light and she hopped up onto the tall stool like a rabbit. "Horrible stuff went on inside. A man killed his whole family, kids and all. Who says money buys you happiness? It almost always comes with some kind of intrigue or family secrets."
"Yes, and that particular murder case has more secrets than I can count."
Hazel squinted at me. "I'll bet you've been elbow deep in that mystery. I remember your favorite hobby was solving crime mysteries. And I've read a little about some of your exploits in the newspaper, you and that million dollar nose."
I waved off the flattery and changed subjects. "Are you shooting pictures in the house? It's not very safe inside, and the stairs are definitely dangerous."
"Have you been inside?"
"Oh, uh, I did take a quick look once. It ended up in disaster. It was pitch dark, and the doorknob fell off." I thought briefly back to that morning when Dash came to my rescue after I'd gotten stuck inside.
"Didn't you once tell me you were deathly afraid of the dark? I remember when the lights went out in your apartment. You said you nearly burned the building down with candles."
My face warmed. "I'm embarrassed to say I still panic in the dark. But enough about that. So, Lydia is setting up her equipment outside? What about that unsightly chain link fence the city constructed to keep trespassers out of the house?"
Hazel winked. "You mean like over-curious flower shop owners? The mayor allowed us to take down the fence for the shoot." She glanced around the store. "This place is exactly how I pictured it. You always had such a good eye for color and style." She took in a deep whiff of the floral scented air. "And a good nose for fragrance." She rested her arms on the island. "How is that million dollar nose anyhow? Are you putting it to good use here in Port Darcy?"
"Danby."
"Right. What did I say?"
"You said Darcy."
Hazel laughed as she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "That's because I had Darcy on my mind. More specifically, Mr. Darcy. I picked this up in the bakery next door. Delicio
us pastries, by the way."
She handed me the flyer.
I unfolded it and spread it out on the counter. "Spend your Valentine's Day with Colin Firth, the real Mr. Darcy, on the terrace in front of the Sugar and Spice Bakery." I read it again in case I'd missed something.
"I'm only sorry I won't still be in town next week. I'd love to eat a pastry with Mr. Darcy," Hazel noted.
I shook my head. "I don't understand. First of all, there is no terrace, only a sidewalk. And I'm sure Elsie would have mentioned this to me. I'll have to ask her about it."
"You're good friends then?"
"Yes, very."
Hazel looked a little forlorn about my emphatic yes. I was probably her closest confidante at Georgio's, and she took it harder than anyone when I announced I was leaving.
I took her hand. "Let's have lunch while you're here." I shook my head "I can't believe Jacob was willing to part with you for so long. What will he do without you?"
Hazel's face scrunched in confusion. "Jacob's here with the rest of us."
The air blew out of me as if someone had clapped me hard on the back. "Jacob's in Port Danby?" My voice cracked from a suddenly dry throat. "Oh, well. I see."
Hazel knew me well enough to read my stunned reaction, even beneath my pathetic attempt to hide it.
It was her turn to squeeze my hand. "I need to get back up to the site. Come and see everyone soon."
Chapter 4
Ryder came back from lunch less hungry and less irritated about Lola's morning visit. It wasn't my place to ask, but I could only assume he'd met Cherise on his break. My mind had been preoccupied with the knowledge that my old friends and ex-fiancé were in town shooting pictures for Georgio's Perfume. I'd gotten so little done, I decided a cookie break at Elsie's would do me a world of good. It would also give me a chance to ask Elsie about the Mr. Darcy flyer. After all, if Colin Firth was really going to be eating pastries next door, I was going to need a new dress, at the very least. However, I was fairly certain the original Mr. Darcy was not going to be taking tea in Port Danby anytime soon.
Roses and Revenge Page 2
