Читать книгу The Pursuit of Jesse - Helen Brenna - Страница 13

“GOLD CALLA LILIES,” Sarah said. Her flower-shop phone on speaker, she talked to Megan, one of the more psychotic bride-to-be clients with whom she’d ever had the pleasure of working. This wedding would be the first of the season, and Sarah couldn’t wait until this one was over. “They’ll look amazing.”

“But I want white daisies,” Megan said decisively.

Normally, what the bride wanted, the bride got. Unless what she wanted might end up reflecting badly on Sarah. In this business, reputation was key, and she did her best to make sure every wedding was perfect.

“I know you want daisies, Megan, but remember your dress is classic in design. You wanted a very formal wedding.” As she talked, Sarah prepped a mixed vase of stargazer lilies, irises and Bells of Ireland—one of her favorites—for the Mirabelle Island Inn.

Although winter was the slow season on Mirabelle, the island enjoyed a steady stream of snowmobilers, cross-country skiers and snowshoers given the miles of scenic, groomed trails that crisscrossed the many acres of state park land covering more than half of the island. That meant Sarah’s shop did a small floral business over the winter providing the hotels, bed-and-breakfasts and a few other businesses on the island with freshly cut arrangements. Most of her time over the winter, though, was spent planning weddings for the upcoming summer season.

Sarah adjusted an iris stem. “White daisies may detract from the dramatic, stylish impact you’ve said you wanted.” Insisted was more like it. Over and over again. “Instead, I’d add a few sprigs of amaryllis,” she went on. “A shock of green.”

“That sounds terrible.” Megan’s voice was turning pitchy, a sure sign she was close to drawing a line in the sand.

“Remember the two-toned Leonidas roses? You fell in love with them at first sight. I’m not sure they’ll go well with daisies.”

“Then maybe the roses weren’t the best choice.”

Oh, no. If Sarah had anything to say about it, the woman was not changing her mind on the focal flower in her cluster bouquet for the fifth time.

“I still think the roses were the right decision,” Sarah said, easily keeping her voice steady and calm. “They match your color scheme and the style of your wedding, but before you decide, let me email you some pictures. I think you’ll absolutely love what you see.” She removed the pollen stamens from the open lilies with a tissue, ensuring the pollen wouldn’t drop and stain anything and everything in its path.

She’d been working on the flowers much longer than she should have, but that was par for the course. Weddings and Flowers by Sarah hadn’t gotten one of the best reputations in the Upper Midwest for no good reason. Nothing—fresh or silk arrangements, potted plants or the like—left her hands until everything was just right.

The flower shop’s front door opened, letting in a burst of cold air, and Sarah glanced up. Her best friend, Missy Charms Abel, who owned the gift shop next door, had, thankfully, stopped by to break up the monotony of her day. Smiling, Sarah put her index finger to her lips and then pointed to the phone.

“Lunch?” Missy silently mouthed as she held out two takeout bags.

“Yes!” Sarah mouthed back, nodding vigorously, and then spoke into the speakerphone. “So I’ll send you the photos of the design I have in mind?”

“I insist on something unique, Sarah.” Megan’s voice echoed over the speakerphone and through the small flower shop like nails down a chalkboard. “Absolutely unique.”

Missy rolled her eyes as she slipped off her boots and walked sock-footed across the tiled floor.

“I promise I’ve never done this arrangement before,” Sarah said to Megan as she smiled at Missy. “I’ll email you those pictures as soon as we get off the phone. Let me know what you decide. No rush. Take your time.” Sarah disconnected the call before Megan could find something else to obsess over and glanced up at Missy.

Her friend shook her head. “She sounds like a winner.”

“Guess how old she is?”

“To be that particular? Forty.”

“Eighteen.”

“You’re kidding. What’s her story?”

“High-school sweethearts. He’s in the military. She’s just graduating from high school this spring. Around New Year’s, they found out Brandon was scheduled to ship off to Afghanistan on July first. That’s when they got engaged.”

“So why wait? Why not just run out and get married?”

“She insisted on a Mirabelle wedding. In spring. Period. She wants the perfect wedding,” Sarah added. “And Daddy’s made it clear that the sky’s the limit for his only child.”

“I don’t know how you deal with all those crazy brides.”

“Very carefully.” Sarah laughed, prepping an email to Megan. “Honestly, though, I don’t mind.” Her years of experience with stressed-out brides-to-be and their stressed-out mothers had taught her to take their wacked-out moods in stride.

“Better you than me.” Missy set the bags on the counter.

Sarah attached a photo of the arrangement she had in mind for Megan and sent the email. “There you go, Megan,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief.

Only a second later, her computer pinged with received mail.

“Is that her replying back that quickly?” Missy asked, looking surprised.

“Yep. She thinks she likes this one. But she wants to make sure the bridesmaids’ bouquets are in sync with hers.”

“I swear,” Missy said, shaking her head. “Your brides get more obsessive every year.”

“Don’t tell anyone I said this, or I could be out of a job. But sometimes I think couples these days are entirely missing the point of the day.”

“So what’s your idea of the perfect wedding? What’s your day going to be like?”

A woman didn’t dream of her wedding day if she never expected to get married. Besides, Sarah had once upon a time planned the perfect wedding. Pulling out all the stops never ensured a blissful union. “Who says I’m ever getting married?”

“Oh, come on.”

“Seriously. I’ve got Brian. Great friends. A successful business. I love Mirabelle Island. Soon, I’ll have a house. What more could a woman want?”

“A man she loves to share it all with?”

“Not gonna happen, but I’m so glad you stopped by,” she said, abruptly changing the subject. People who were happy in their marriages always wanted everyone else to get married. “I really needed this break. What wonderful thing did you bring me to eat?”

Missy looked reluctant to let the topic of a possible Sarah-wedding go, but she did. “I’ve been dying for Dee Dee’s cranberry almond salad with tofu crumbles. So I brought you her Caribbean chicken.”

Missy was the island’s only resident vegetarian, and she’d started off a bit of a health kick for Sarah. “Yum,” Sarah murmured. “Sandwich or salad?”

“Salad, of course.”

“That’s going to hit the spot.” The mango, black beans and jicama mixture over a bed of mixed greens sounded wonderful. “I just need to finish this arrangement before I eat, but you go ahead.”

Missy took off her coat, unwrapped the colorful scarf around her neck and hung them both over the back of her chair. “You coming to yoga tonight?”

Missy taught twice-a-week classes up at the community center. Sarah tried to make it as often as she could, but she never seemed to have enough time in the week for consistent workouts.

“I think I can come after I get Brian to basketball practice. You might have to start without me.”

“We can wait. I don’t think anyone will mind. Oh, that reminds me. Did you hear the latest?” Her voice took on a conspiratorial tone. “Sherri cut my hair this morning and she said Garrett Taylor’s brother moved to the island. She was in the Rusty Nail a couple nights ago and out of the blue this guy she’d never seen came walking in from a virtual blizzard. She said they talked and danced…”

Just talked and danced? That’d be the day.

“…said something about a quick trip to the bathroom…”

There you have it.

“…and all she knew was his first name. She didn’t find out he was Garrett’s brother until the next day when Crystal Stotz came in for a color. His name’s Jesse. The baby in the family, and Sherri says he’s as different from Garrett as curly from straight.”

She had that right.

“She said he’s going to be here for a while.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Missy’s eyes widened. “You knew about this and you didn’t tell me?”

“There’s nothing to tell. Garrett can’t do the work on my house, so Jesse’s taking care of it.”

“You don’t sound happy about the situation.”

Sarah shrugged.

“Has he started working on your house yet?”

“Apparently.”

“Is he not doing a good job?”

“I’ve gone up there a couple times.” After their run-in the other day, she’d done her best to go to the house only when she knew he was gone. She wasn’t sure she could handle again the way he looked at her, as if he knew his touch would very likely set her skin on fire. The way he called her boss, as if she was no such thing, as if with a flick of a wrist he could get her to do his bidding. “The job seems to be getting done in a…competent manner.”

The fact was she’d been surprised by how good a job he was doing, and had been hard-pressed to come up with improvements. Still, she’d wanted him to know she was keeping a close eye on him, so she’d—basically—manufactured things for him to do in the notes she’d left for him.

“Buuuuut?” Missy said, pressing for more.

“I just…I don’t like him,” she said decisively.

Missy raised her eyebrows.

Sarah held stubbornly silent. Although they’d moved to Mirabelle within a few months of each other and had been best friends since, there were things about Sarah’s past she hadn’t shared with Missy. Sarah had wanted to start fresh here on Mirabelle. As time had gone on, it’d gotten easier to let the past lie.

“What’s this all about?” Missy said softly.

“Let’s just say that you’re not the only one with a past you’re not too proud of and leave it at that.”

“Tough to argue with that.”

Missy’s skeletons had rattled their bones in an effort to come out of the closet late one evening last summer when her presumed-dead husband, Jonas Abel, had shown up on her doorstep. It wasn’t long after that Missy had felt compelled to share everything with Sarah, even the fact that she’d come from an extremely wealthy family. Sarah had been angry at first, but their friendship had been too important to toss aside.

“Does this have anything to do with Brian’s dad?” Missy asked.

It had everything to do with him. Everything. Avoiding Missy’s gaze by fussing instead with the flower arrangement, she pulled out one stem after another only to replace each one in the same spot.

Jesse’s smirk. His deep voice. His laugh. The look in his eyes that made her skin flare with heat. How could she explain that Jesse reminded her a little of every man she’d ever dated before coming to Mirabelle, of the recklessness with which she’d once lived?

“Sarah, you’re my best friend.” Missy touched her hand. “There can’t possibly be anything in your past that will change our relationship today.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that.” If Missy knew the whole truth then she would never look at Sarah the same way again. In the back of her mind, it would be there. Always.

“If it’s something you did, didn’t do, I don’t care. You forgave me, didn’t you?”

Not the same thing. All Missy had been hiding is that she’d once been listed as one of the richest kids in America.

“You’re not giving me much credit,” Missy said.

Maybe she could share part of the truth. Only part. “It’s a long story, Missy.” She stuck one last iris stalk into the vase and called it a day. She could mess with this arrangement forever and it would never be perfect. “You sure you want to hear?”

“Come on, Sarah.” Missy smiled gently. “Tell me what’s going on with you.”