“Delia has brought something interesting to my attention. You never refer to any kind of notes. Are you pulling all this preparation out of thin air? Chloe in the casket is different, I’ll grant you that, but where do we go from there? Have you thought everything out? A competent coordinator would have a working theme. Are we making wedding, sympathy, or party designs? How can any of us prepare if we don’t know what’s expected of us?”
“Didn’t you read my cover letter? I mailed one to all the contestants.”
Her eyes narrowed to slits. “I’ve known you for years, Bretta, and I’ve never seen this narcissistic side. Is it your recent weight loss? Has your new look given you a different perspective? Do you have a need to exert your power over us?”
I chewed my lower lip, so I wouldn’t take a bite out of her. Finally, when I had some control, I said, “If you know me so well, then you shouldn’t be surprised that I’m not changing my mind.”
Ignoring the elevator, I took the stairs for the short hike up to my room. As my sneakers scuffed the concrete steps I thought about Miriam’s remarks and had to admit they hurt.
I wasn’t being paid for this job. I had nothing to gain, but I had plenty to lose if events didn’t proceed smoothly. I’d been a florist for over twenty years, and a member of this association for nearly fifteen. I had a damned good reputation for being dependable and clever, and I wasn’t about to risk either on this competition. I knew I could keep the contest entertaining and fair to all the contestants—if I were left alone.
Once I was in my room, I put through a call to the McDuffys. Thinking about them was a diversion that I needed. My plan had the desired affect. When they didn’t answer, I sat on the bed and tallied the few facts in my possession.
Their notes had sounded like they were anxious to see me, so where the hell were they? Why weren’t they doggedly on my tail? I wasn’t that hard to find. All they had to do was follow the trail of flowers, and they’d find me.
I dug the envelope from behind the armoire and reread all the notes, searching for any scrap of information I might have overlooked.
This was the part of my personality that Carl had said would make me a good detective. Details. I thrived on them. I was a list maker—a planner. Every eventuality had to be examined and eliminated with a possible solution. What could happen? What might happen? What did happen? These were all concerns that came into play, whether I was planning a floral contest or delving into a strange situation, which seemed to accurately describe the McDuffys’ vanishing act.
As I read and reread Vincent’s words, I tried to make an emotional connection with what might have been going on in his mind. While it was only conjecture on my part, I knew the sorrow of losing someone you love. He’d buried his only daughter last month. The month after Carl died, I’d hardly known my name. I’d existed in a vacuum, going about my daily chores because it was my custom, not because I was motivated.
What had motivated Vincent and Mabel to come to Branson? Lois had said Vincent was a huge man. His wife had cancer. Surely it had taken an effort on both their parts to make the trip. If they’d wanted to talk to me, they could have called the flower shop.
I looked back at the letter and read the last couple of lines of the first paragraph: … learned that you would be in Branson this weekend for a floral convention. We’ve timed our trip to coincide with this event.
I sat up straight. Now why in the world would the McDuffys want to be here at the same time as the floral convention?
Chapter Four
An astute architect can look at a site and sketch a structure that complements its surroundings, allowing the building to draw character from its location. The restaurant on the top floor of the Terraced Plaza Hotel had been created by that kind of professional. Glass, glass, and more glass had been used to accentuate the decor. Why put framed prints on the walls when Mother Nature is the expert landscapist?
A private room had been set aside for our introductory dinner and the setup gave the impression that we were dining in someone’s luxurious home. Natural wood paneling covered the walls. The carpet was the color of clouds on a stormy morning. The eight-branch candelabra, hanging above the massive table, shed its soft light on the china, silver, and three odd-looking floral bouquets. The chairs were overstuffed wingbacks, and I longed to settle myself on a plump cushion, but I hesitated in the doorway, taking stock of the occupants in the room.
Delia and Miriam were in attendance, and each was dressed in her own distinctive brand of fashion. Delia had lots of pale skin showing around scraps of red material. Miriam wore a conservative ivory suit with gold accessories that accentuated her flaming hair. Tyrone looked as suave as ever, his dinner jacket a custom fit to his lean frame. Zach’s smile could melt an igloo. He leaned attentively toward Allison, who was gussied up in pink satin draped with chiffon. She looked my way, and I did a double take. The hawkish nose and deep-set eyes were familiar, but somehow—some way—Allison had tamed her customary bristly eyebrows into an orderly manner.
I was wondering if she’d used a case of Super Glue when I heard a “psst” from behind me. I looked over my shoulder and saw Alvin pushing a cloth-covered cart up the hall. The threefoot, first-place trophy rocked ever so gently as he came to a stop near me. I steadied the award and smiled at the hotel event specialist.
“Right on time,” I whispered. “I hope this place has full coverage for glass breakage. When the treasurer sees the amount of money I’ve spent on this hunk of metal, her shrill voice might shatter a few panes.”
“Let her rip, Bretta; I’d trust this glass to withstand a mighty gale.”
“Gale isn’t the name of this storm.” I stepped to the doorway and nodded to Bernice, whose mouth was pursed as if she’d bitten into a green persimmon. Her stern gaze had settled on Effie, who’d used lavish sprays of orchids, with name tags attached, to denote each person’s place at the table. “You’d think Bernice’s personal income was financing this conference.”
Alvin grinned. “Other than Miss Scrooge, how’re things going?”
I saw Darren standing alone at the windows. “So far so good … I hope.”
“Uh … Bretta, here at the hotel, we get a shipment of flowers each week for the girls to use in the restaurant and in the lobby. We don’t profess to be designers, but fresh flowers lend an elegance that puts us a step above some of our competition. The staff went ahead with their work, just as they do for other dinner parties. When I realized they’d made the centerpieces for a ‘florist’ meeting, I thought I’d better check to see if any of you were offended by their workmanship.”
I’d already noticed the arrangements and had wondered who was responsible for cramming the blossoms into the vases. There were enough flowers to make three times the bouquets. No design, no artistic quality, but I made myself smile. It was the thought that counted. “You worry too much. The flowers are fine and add a nice touch.”
“Then they look okay?”
I winked. “They’re fresh. Let’s leave it at that.”
“Thanks, Bretta. In fact, I guess I owe you a double thank you.
“Why is that?”
“Helen says those messages from the McDuffys were for you. I’m glad that was cleared up. She wasn’t getting any work done for worrying.”
“Have Vincent and Mabel come back to the hotel?”
“I don’t know them so I couldn’t tell you, but I can ask the front desk to keep an eye out for them.” His round face creased with a frown. “Helen seemed to think those messages were important. Is there anything else I can do?”
“They’re supposed to come to my room in the morning. So I’ll just wait until then.”
Alvin nodded and went on about his duties. It was time to do mine. I adjusted my purse strap over my shoulder and hitched up my panty hose. As I entered the room, pushing the cart with the trophy, a hush settled over the small group. I smiled and quickly parked the award, then made my way to Darren. He had his back to the
others, staring out the window.
“Hi,” I said. “Enjoying the view?”
He continued to gaze out the window. “I never tire of it, especially at twilight—before full darkness falls and another day is gone. From here the dazzle of Branson is hidden and all you see is the natural beauty of our Missouri countryside.”
If I could forget that I was nine stories in the air, the view was awe-inspiring. Haversham Hall was unlit, but the conservatory shone against the clouds. The rounded dome appeared like a full moon creeping over the horizon.
“That adds an eerie futuristic touch, doesn’t it?” commented Darren before turning to survey me. “You clean up very well, Bretta. Nice dress.”
I plucked the clingy black fabric nonchalantly. “This old thing? I packed the first item I came to in my closet.”
He chuckled deep in his throat. “Yeah, right, and everyone in this room is filled with benevolence for me. Even as we speak, I’m being needled by a very penetrating gaze.”
I glanced around and saw Delia glowering at us. “‘The blond bitch’ does look a tad ticked off.”
Darren grinned sheepishly. “Sorry about that scene this afternoon, but I let them get to me. After two pots of coffee and a shower, I’m ready to rise above their pettiness.”
“That’s good to hear. Where’s Hubert?”
“He wasn’t invited, and he wouldn’t have come anyway. If I know him, he’s ordered from room service and is watching television.”
“Smart move. I’d trade places with him in a heartbeat.”
I excused myself and mingled, steering clear of Miriam and Delia, but stopping at Effie’s side. She was dressed in purple, and the reflected color made her hair look like a swirl of lavender cotton candy.
When I complimented her on the place cards she’d made, she barely acknowledged my words. I asked, “Do you still have a headache?”
Effie gave an exasperated sigh. “There isn’t one thing up there to ache, dear. I’ve lost my mind, as well as a few other things I could mention, but I won’t because it would make me look like a doddering old fool.”
“Which you are not.”
“Thank you, dear,” she said as she hurried off.
I looked across the room and noticed Bernice glaring at me while riffling through a folder. I broke eye contact before she could call me over for a discussion about the cost of a trophy that I hadn’t gotten her permission to purchase. Hoping to head off a confrontation, I scurried over to Robbee.
He stood by himself but watched Chloe, following every move she made. The young woman deserved an ogling. Her miniskirt slip dress was made of a material that caught the lights and glimmered in a rainbow of colors. Of course, it wasn’t the colors that had caught Robbee’s eye. Her perky little nipples pressed against the fabric in an open invitation.
Robbee had removed the rawhide strip from his long hair, leaving the luxurious curls free to fall over his shoulders. Once he’d pulled his gaze off Chloe, he greeted me with a soft whistle.
“So that’s what you’ve been hiding under your T-shirt,” he said, leering at the low neckline of my dress.
“Don’t be vulgar, Robbee. We’ve got a couple of problems—”
“—and here they come now,” he finished in a whisper.
“Bretta,” said Miriam, “you look nice this evening. I don’t believe I’ve seen you in anything quite so … uh … alluring. But then, you’ve never had this kind of figure, have you?”
I ignored her to say, “Robbee and I were just talking about Branson. It’s a lovely place with so many things to do and see. The hotel’s brochure says that over six million people visit each year. I really should make the trip more often.”
Robbee took my cue. “I come to Branson regularly, especially when the conservatory has a special program. Miriam, remember last year when nearly all of us in this room were at the Fleur-De-Lis Extravaganza? Every hybrid lily imaginable was on display. The blooms were incredible. I met this woman who pressed flowers into—”
“Be quiet, Robbee,” said Delia. “We’re not interested in your social life.” She turned to me. “I think it’s time you quit playing games. It’s only fair that you reveal the contest—”
Tyrone’s regal tone interrupted Delia. “Excuse me,” he said, “but I’d like to speak with Bretta before our meal is served.”
He took my arm and escorted me into the hall, but once we were alone he didn’t say anything. I knew this was about the contest, so I primed myself for battle, but stubbornly waited for him to hurl the first derogatory shot.
Tyrone cleared his throat. “What I saw a moment ago didn’t appear to be teamwork, Bretta. Gauging the look on Delia’s face, you haven’t changed your mind about revealing the contest categories.”
“No, and I don’t plan to.”
“Your attitude isn’t conducive to a working relationship with all who are involved.”
I shrugged. “I can’t help that.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
This time I gave him a small smile. “Some of both, I suspect.”
That wasn’t the answer he’d expected. His lips thinned to a straight line. “I won’t use my power as president to make you change the rules at this late date, but I insist on a superbly executed contest on Saturday. I want it to be unique and memorable, and my board of directors—Allison, Bernice, and Effie—tell me that you have the ability to carry it off.”
This was a surprise. I knew I could count on Effie’s support, but never Allison’s, and Bernice was as dippy as a canoe. “What about Miriam and Delia? Will you tell them that I have the board’s backing?”
Tyrone’s chin came up. “I’ll make that announcement, shortly.”
“Miriam will be furious, and so will Delia.”
“They’ll get over it,” was his clipped response.
I had my doubts, but we moved back into the dining room and Tyrone took his place at the head of the table. Effie flitted about the room like a purple finch, directing each person to his or her designated spot. She’d put me next to Darren, but across from Bernice.
As I pulled the chair out, I saw I was also under a cooling vent. The chilly air current was nothing compared to the frigid looks Bernice sent my way. I shivered, wishing I had a jacket to toss across my shoulders and a suit of armor to ward off Bernice’s icy stare.
Zach leaned forward. “Want to trade places, Bretta? In this coat, I could use some cooler air.”
I flashed him a grateful smile and circled the table taking the seat next to Robbee, which put me at the other end of the table from Bernice. Across from me, Gellie’s place was conspicuously empty.
“Tyrone,” I said as I hung my purse over the back of my chair. “Gellie isn’t here. Shouldn’t we wait for—”
“Here I am, Bretta,” called a familiar voice.
Heads swiveled. Jaws dropped. I slipped weak-kneed into my chair and gazed in awe at my old friend.
The last time I’d seen Gellie had been at Carl’s funeral, and she’d weighed a solid three hundred pounds. This new Gellie might weigh in at one-thirty. She strolled into the room with a proud smile that would’ve rivaled a searchlight for its brilliance.
Beside me, Effie whispered, “That’s the woman who nearly smashed my car when I arrived on Wednesday. Pulled right out in front of me when I was making a turn into the hotel parking lot.”
I nodded absently. I talked to Gellie regularly on the phone, but not once had she even mentioned that she’d been on a diet. The contestants had seen her last September at the semifinals, but from their shocked expressions Gellie hadn’t looked like this.
“Ta, da!” she said, striking a cheesecake pose. “Would one of you gallant young men hold my chair, please?”
When no one moved, I nudged Robbee, who leaped from his chair like a startled grasshopper and hip-hopped around the table.
Once settled, Gellie turned to Tyrone and giggled. “I’m sorry I created such a stir, but I’ve waited months and months fo
r this occasion. Surely, you wouldn’t deny me this moment in the spotlight?”
Tyrone cleared his throat once, then twice. “Uh … of course not … Gellie.”
Emphatically, Gellie said, “No. No. Gellie was that other woman, but she’s gone. She choked the life out of me. Kept me from doing and being all that I wanted. My name is Angelica, and I’m free to fly like an angel. Thank God, I’m free, and Gellie is dead.”
Chapter Five
A stunned silence followed Gellie’s announcement before Tyrone tapped his water glass for our attention. “This weekend … uh … promises to be … uh … one of the most … uh … exciting in the history of our organization.”
I hid a grin. Even the mighty “ruler” could hem and haw with the best of them. I glanced across at Gellie, who usually shared my peculiar brand of humor. She was applying lip gloss.
Tyrone stroked his mustache and referred to a sheaf of papers in his hand. Once he’d found his place in the prepared speech, his voice was stronger, more self-assured. “The first annual Show-Me competition has brought the most talented florists in the state of Missouri to Branson. As president of this association, I welcome each of you, and wish you a hearty ‘good luck’ with your endeavors.
“The outcome of this contest is important, but the steps toward that final judgment are just as momentous. My name is attached to this conference, and I won’t tolerate any grandstanding or embarrassing scenes. There’s more to this weekend than this competition. Let me remind you that florists from all over southern Missouri are coming here to better their design techniques and implement new ideas into their businesses. Allison is chairing a number of informative workshops. At this time we’ll hear from my second-in-command.”
I expected Allison to stand and salute, but she only tugged her pink-satin dress into place while favoring us with a smile. Whatever she’d used to tame her eyebrows had pooped out. Bushy hairs had sprung back to life and gave the appearance of marauding woolly worms creeping across her forehead.
Lilies That Fester Page 4
