The Flower Shop (The Seed Traders' Saga Book 2)

by Petra Durst-Benning

  “Strange, he’s never had a coughing fit like that before,” said Sabine after they had gotten Kuno to the chaise longue in the front room. Small beads of sweat had dotted his brow, and he was as pale as death, but after a while the coughing stopped and his breath came more easily.

  “Don’t you think we should go and get his son, just in case?” Flora asked uncertainly.

  Sabine laughed at the idea. “The young master would just love it if I went and dragged him out of the Trinkhalle every time his father felt ill. No. I just have to keep an eye on Mr. Sonnenschein, that’s all there is to it.”

  She twisted her mouth to one side. “Go now. If that ‘We’ll Be Right Back’ sign hangs on the door permanently, even our last customers will abandon us.”

  Flora had not been in the house more than ten minutes altogether, but in all the excitement she had forgotten to close the front door of the shop. When she returned, she was shocked to see two women leaning over the flower buckets in front of the counter. One of them lifted out a large bunch of roses.

  “Finally! We were starting to think we’d have to help ourselves,” said the woman with the roses. “I’d like these.” She held the flowers up to Flora.

  “Certainly, madam.” Flora hurried behind the counter, opening all the drawers as she went. Was there paper somewhere for wrapping? What did a bunch of roses like that even cost? Where was the money kept? Help! Why did Kuno have to come down ill today of all days, on her very first day?

  Flora wrapped the roses in pages from Kuno’s newspaper, then named a price that was clearly far too low, because the woman said, “Then I’ll take twice as many.”

  Flora gave her a pained smile.

  “You must be the new apprentice, right? From Württemberg? Where is Kuno?”

  “Uh, yes. I’m Flora. The master is—” She abruptly stopped herself. What business was it of this nosy woman what was going on with Mr. Sonnenschein?

  “I’ll add a little greenery to the bunch, if you like,” she said, and she quickly trimmed off two of the stems of the fragrant plants she had picked that morning. That seemed to please the woman.

  “Maybe I can get served sometime today, too?” the other woman said impatiently. “I need flowers for a birthday. Goodness, it takes forever here.”

  With a hint of a curtsy, Flora smiled at the second woman. “I’ll be with you in just a moment.”

  An hour later, Flora had served four women, and to each of them she had given one of the aromatic stems.

  “It’s rare to be given anything, just like that. Normally, all you get for nothing is sorrow and pain,” one woman had murmured. She had bought a single tulip, and Flora watched as her fingers, red and chapped like those of a washerwoman, stroked the petals tenderly. She had to dig in her purse for a long time to find the few kreuzer to pay for it. “I really can’t afford luxuries like flowers anymore. But when I look at the tulips, they make me think of my Berthold. He loved them very much . . .”

  Flora had then pressed a few forget-me-nots into the woman’s hand as well. “These flowers mean that someone will carry you in their heart always,” she said, and the woman smiled.

  Not all the customers were so poor, but with one or two others, Flora had wondered if anything besides the flower or two they bought would find its way to the table. Flora sighed.

  She would, of course, tell Mr. Sonnenschein about the small bunch of forget-me-nots she had given the old lady.

  Since her first two customers, Flora had discovered not only where the money was kept—in a wooden case in the top drawer behind the counter, tucked away beneath a few old rags—but also a price list. At least, she hoped that’s what it was, and not a list of what Mr. Sonnenschein paid his suppliers.

  A fleeting sense of pride came over her then. She’d held up quite well, all things considered, hadn’t she? But her mood clouded over again a moment later. Where was Mr. Sonnenschein? Was he feeling better? And why hadn’t Sabine come to tell her how he was?

  This was certainly not how she had imagined her first day on the job: standing all alone in the shop and having to make the best of things. So much for “take a step back,” as her mother had advised her. When she wrote about this to her parents . . .

  But, if she were honest with herself, she had taken a great deal of pleasure in all of it.

  Flora was watering the potted plants when the doorbell tinkled anew.

  “It’s getting harder and harder to get along this street every single day, let me tell you!” Still in the doorway, the man took off his shoes and knocked the right against the left, letting a fine rain of dust fall just outside the door. “Kuno?”

  “The master isn’t here just now. Can I help you?” Flora curtsied.

  The man looked her up and down. “You must be the new apprentice girl. Pleasure to meet you. Schierstiefel’s my name, gentlemen’s outfitter. My shop is a little farther along the street. I always come in on Tuesdays for carnations for my wife. But if Kuno isn’t—”

  “Oh, that’s no problem at all,” Flora said hastily, coming out from behind the counter. So this was the man with the apprentice of his own, the Moritz that Sabine had mentioned. “A bouquet every week, and carnations—the symbol of deep friendship. How lovely! May I add a stem of this, too? No charge, of course.”

  When Sabine came in at six o’clock with the key to the store and the news that the master of the house had retired completely for the day, Flora was so exhausted that all she could do was nod. Why were her eyes so red and teary? She hoped she had not caught something from Mr. Sonnenschein.

  Her first day at work . . . She was pleased with what she’d done, even if she felt more tired than she’d ever felt in her life.

  Chapter Twelve

  Evening came, and Kuno had not completely recovered. His eyes were no longer teary and his cough had disappeared, but his throat was so raw that he could not speak beyond a quiet croak.

  The doctor they had finally called in looked puzzled. “Strange. Normally, I’d suspect it was a reaction to something, like a bad hay fever, but . . .” Pondering, he tugged softly at his beard.

  “But?” Ernestine said breathlessly.

  The doctor looked up. “I’ve had several patients today with similar complaints, all here on this street. I’ve just come from the Schierstiefels, in fact. Perhaps it’s a virus going around?” He looked at Flora, who was standing in the doorway, listening to their conversation. “If I may be allowed an observation, young lady, you look to be rather strained yourself. Red eyes, runny nose.”

  “Heavens, don’t say that! The girl’s only been with us a day. The last thing we need is her getting sick, too. If her parents hear that . . . well, it doesn’t bear thinking about.” Ernestine pressed both hands to her breast. “Doctor, I’ve been feeling rather ill myself.”

  The next morning, Kuno was feeling a little better but not well enough to get out of bed. Flora, apart from her runny nose, felt fine and convinced Friedrich and his mother that she would be able to watch the shop by herself for the day.

  Preparing herself for the day ahead, she was so filled with excitement and anticipation that she could barely stop herself from grinning constantly. She twisted the key energetically in the lock as plans for the morning turned over in her mind. The previous day, the morning hours had been relatively quiet. If today was the same, she would use the time to mop the floor and—

  Flora had not even made it to the counter when her scream filled the room and she ran out again in a panic.

  “You can’t be serious,” Sabine said, shaking her head vigorously. Stretching her neck, she peeked around the doorframe and into the shop, without setting a single toe over the threshold. “That is disgusting, just horrible! No, I’m sorry, I can’t do it!” She lifted both hands defensively as she stepped back. “You’ll find cleaning things in the little room off the hall.”

  “Please, I’m begging you, don’t desert me now!” Flora held on to Sabine’s sleeve tightly. The fine hairs on her
arms were standing on end. “Maybe with a broom?” she whispered. “Please?”

  On the floor, on the walls, across the counter, on the flower buckets—everywhere she looked scuttled hundreds of small, almost transparent spiders.

  “Where did they all come from overnight?” Flora whimpered. What a terrible shop she was in. “Have you ever seen anything like it?”

  “No! If madam sees those things, she’ll drop dead on the spot. Which I could understand, actually.” Sabine screwed up her face as if she’d bitten into a lemon. “All right, look: first, we’ll bash them with the dustpan. And then I’ll sweep and you hold the dustpan—not vice versa!”

  Flora ran off toward the closet to get a bucket, dustpan, and broom. Anything was better than having to deal with that horror alone.

  The two women beat at the little creatures for several minutes without much success. The spiders were quick on their feet and clearly quite determined to go on living. But after a while, Flora’s and Sabine’s aim improved. The floor was already covered with many spider cadavers when Flora’s gaze froze for the second time that morning.

  “Sabine,” she whispered. “There!” She pointed toward the twigs that she had cut the day before, the same ones she had thought were particularly lovely.

  Where the cocoon-like white balls had been, there were only open shells. From some of them, the little spiders were still emerging.

  “Oh my God.” The maid slapped her hand over her mouth.

  “What in the world did I bring back with me?” A shiver ran through Flora, and she let out a hysterical laugh.

  The spider-eradication campaign was still in full swing when there was a rapping on the shop door. The two young women jumped.

  It took a moment for Flora to recognize the silhouetted figure standing in the doorway as one of her customers from the day before. Just behind her stood a man in uniform.

  “She’s the one!” the woman snapped as Flora opened the door for her. “She’s the one who gave me that terrible stuff! ‘A gift’ indeed—that Württemberg girl was trying to kill me! And my Otto, too.”

  The policeman behind her cleared his throat. “Nothing’s been proven, ma’am. We are simply in the process of establishing the facts of the matter and—”

  “The matter?” the woman interrupted him scornfully. “Just look at the girl, standing there like innocence itself. I tell you, it was an attempt on my life. She tried to suffocate me in the night. Just wait. The doctor will be here any minute, and then you’ll have your matter!”

  The officer looked meekly at the floor, where a few spiders were still scurrying around.

  “It’s Else Walbusch, the lady from the general store. What’s she talking about?” Sabine whispered to Flora, and she surreptitiously flattened a few more spiders underfoot.

  “I have no idea.” It took a few moments for Flora to recover from her surprise. She was beginning to feel as if she had landed in a nightmare. An attempt on her life?

  “The police are here?” Ernestine, attracted by the turmoil, entered the shop and looked from the officer to Flora to Sabine to Mrs. Walbusch. “Holy Mary, Mother of God!”

  “Oh, that’s made you prick up your ears! And I’m not the only one your apprentice tried to kill with her greenery. The shoemaker’s wife, Berthold’s widow, and Gretel as well—all of them coughing and wheezing and having to call in the doctor. And they all have the same green fronds in a vase, and all of them got the stuff here!” Else Walbusch looked around the small assembly in triumph.

  “My heavens, Kuno . . .” Ernestine’s breast heaved and fell.

  “I don’t understand.” Flora’s voice was filled with incomprehension, and she was grateful when Sabine squeezed her hand reassuringly.

  The officer cleared his throat again. “Mrs. Walbusch believes the flowers you sold her yesterday are extremely poisonous. Where did you get them?” he asked harshly.

  “There it is, back there in that bucket!” Else Walbusch replied before Flora could say anything. “But there’s hardly any of it left now. Yesterday that was quite a fat bundle. I hate to think who else she gave that poison to.”

  “Flora, what does this mean?” Ernestine staggered and had to hold on to the counter.

  “It looks as if the plants I picked yesterday morning are poisonous. And I gave some of it to everyone who came in,” Flora said, her voice flat. “It smelled so good.”

  Sabine, frowning deeply, looked at the bucket holding what was left of the spoils of Flora’s collecting expedition the day before. “You mean that could be where Mr. Sonnenschein’s coughing spells have been coming from?”

  “So you admit the charge?” the officer said sternly.

  Flora bit her lip. A nightmare. She would wake up any moment, would wash the bad dreams away with cold water on her face and laugh—

  “Flora?” Ernestine said, then held her breath.

  Flora was speechless. The spiders’ nests, and now poisonous plants—apparently, the day before, she had gone straight for the plants that could do the most damage.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone . . .”

  “I think now would be a good time for me to fetch the young master from the Trinkhalle,” Sabine murmured to Flora, and she ran out of the store.

  Flora was banished to her room while the family discussed her future in the Sonnenschein house. But she could not put up with being shut away in the dim room for long. The notion that she would have to pack her things and go home again was horrible. What would her parents say? Maybe she could explain everything to the Sonnenscheins one more time.

  Flora tiptoed down the stairs and discovered another eavesdropper listening at the dining room door: Sabine.

  “Am I being sent home?” Flora whispered.

  Sabine shrugged. She stepped to one side so that Flora could also press her ear to the door.

  “I can’t imagine what the people are saying . . .” “. . . our last customers, gone . . .” “. . . she only meant well . . .” “. . . a know-all! And dangerous, too . . .” “. . . it was not meant that way!” “. . . she was supposed to help Father, not . . .” “. . . a menace to life and limb . . .”

  “That’s enough!” Friedrich’s voice was suddenly so loud that Sabine and Flora jumped. “Flora is certainly not out to take anyone’s life or their limbs. This was a series of unfortunate events and no more.” Friedrich seemed to be standing directly in front of the door now. At least, Flora and Sabine could clearly understand every word he said. “Do you really want to send her away because of this?”

  “Yes. No!” Kuno’s voice sounded almost agonized. “I also think the girl meant no harm—”

  “No harm! And what about the people along our street? How am I supposed to show my face among them after this . . . this catastrophe!”

  “Oh, Mother,” Friedrich said, and sighed loudly. “I’ll think of something to make it up to them—if Flora is allowed to stay.”

  Flora and Sabine exchanged a glance. “He’s certainly looking out for you,” said Sabine.

  Flora was too dismayed to say anything, and merely nodded. Friedrich also had stood up for her in the shop earlier. He had managed to convince the police officer and Else Walbusch not to take the matter any further.

  “Mother, what do you think of this? We’ll go together from house to house, explain everything calmly, how Flora did not know the plants and therefore did not know that they could cause adverse reactions like that? After all, even the doctor was not familiar with them or their symptoms. If you—”

  “Me?” Ernestine cried in horror. “Why me? I did not do a thing to—”

  Without thinking, Flora opened the door and rushed into the dining room.

  “If you will allow me to, I will go and visit all the neighbors myself. An apology is the least they can expect from me.”

  Friedrich looked at his parents with his eyebrows raised, but all they gave him in reply was a shrug of the shoulders.

  “And will you allow me to accompany yo
u?” he said to Flora, who felt instantly relieved at the suggestion. Of course she would.

  “Well, that’s done,” said Friedrich hours later as they sat drinking a glass of beer in The Gilded Rose. Flora’s error of judgment, of course, had become the talk of the entire street, and when they entered the bar at The Gilded Rose, they were met with a barrage of generally good-natured jokes until the proprietress put a stop to it, then treated Friedrich and Flora to beer.

  Friedrich raised his mug in a toast. “To better times.”

  “I’ll gladly drink to that,” said Flora with a tired smile. “Thank you very much for coming along with me. I would have felt very uncomfortable by myself.”

  “Most of them were very understanding, don’t you think?” Friedrich said, and he wiped the beer from his moustache. “Apart from Else Walbusch, almost all of them could laugh about it, at least. And everyone knows that Else loves to stoke a little strife.”

  Flora sighed. “I don’t imagine I’ll ever be friends with her. But everyone else here seems to be very nice. And your poor parents, the trouble I’ve caused them. If my mother knew, she’d probably give me a good slap in the face.”

  Friedrich laughed. “When I saw her, your mother seemed quite harmless.”

  Flora managed a little laugh herself. “She is, really. It’s just that I’m always hearing from her how my eagerness makes me put my foot in it or makes other people uncomfortable. And, I’m sorry to say, this time she was right.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  On Sunday morning, a few days after Flora had arrived, Friedrich searched the house for her, but she was nowhere to be found. Had she gone out with Sabine, perhaps? Friedrich could have sworn the maid had left the house by herself. Puzzled, he stood in the hallway. Flora wouldn’t be in the store, would she? He would not put it past her.

  “Cleaning windows, mopping the floor, clearing up, watering . . . Flora is practically falling over herself to help. And any brown leaf she sees—snip!” his father had said to him just the day before.

  “She’s probably trying to make good for the incident with the poisonous plants,” Friedrich had replied. “She said she’d never forget that you forgave her. And also that she’s so grateful for everything she learns from you.”