Читать книгу Bought: One Bride - Miranda Lee - Страница 7

HOLLY glared for the umpteenth time at the FOR SALE sign that had been taped on the shop window less than half an hour earlier. Fury and indignation warred inside her swirling stomach and whirling head.

How dared her stepmother do this? How dared she?

A Flower A Day was at least half hers by rights. She should have been consulted. Should have been considered.

But any consideration for her feelings had clearly ended with her father’s death. Any hope of his beloved business one day being hers had died with him.

She’d been stupid to stay on. Especially stupid to work for such a pathetic salary, considering she managed the shop now, and did the books as well. Every Sunday, no less. Her day off!

Heck, Sara took home almost as much money as she did. And Sara only worked from Wednesday till Saturday as a casual. Sure, Sara was an excellent florist with loads of experience but Holly was every bit as experienced. She might only be twenty-six but she’d been working with flowers all her life. Her dad had started training her to be a florist when she’d been knee-high to a grasshopper. She’d joined him in the shop soon after her fifteenth birthday.

Holly’s heart twisted as she remembered how happy they’d been back then. Just her and her dad.

And then Connie had come along.

Holly hadn’t realised till after her dad had died two years back what kind of woman her stepmother was. Connie had been very clever during the eight years she’d been the second Mrs Greenaway.

But Holly had certainly known within weeks of her dad marrying the attractive divorcee that her stepsister was a nasty piece of work. Jealous, spiteful and devious. Unfortunately, Katie had been equally clever with her new stepfather as his new wife had.

Butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth around him.

Holly bitterly resented the money Connie and Katie had wheedled out of her dad. Only the fact that he’d seemed happy had made her stay silent over the vicious things Katie had said to her in private.

Of course, after her dad had died, all gloves had been off. Connie had begun showing her true colours and Katie…well, Katie had gone from bad to worse.

Holly knew she should have moved out of their lives altogether right then and there, but she just couldn’t bear to part company with her dad’s flower shop. She still felt close to him there. So she’d moved into the flat above the shop and set about getting A Flower A Day back on track.

Business had fallen right off after her father’s stroke, Holly having been so upset that she’d had to close the shop for a while. It had taken over a year to get all his old clients back and to start making a profit. Not that A Flower A Day would ever be a great money-making concern. Strip shopping wasn’t very successful these days. The malls had taken over.

The shop and the flat, however, were still worth good money, despite being ancient and not in the best of condition. Probably over a million. More if someone bought it as a business, along with the goodwill.

Holly glowered at the FOR SALE sign one more time. She’d been crazy to work so hard for so little when she’d known, deep down, that the only ones who would reap the rewards were Connie and the obnoxious Katie. Unfortunately, her father had left his wife everything in his will, made soon after they’d been married when Holly had only been sixteen. He’d relied on Connie to look after his daughter. But the merry widow had had other plans.

So had her rotten daughter…

But Holly didn’t want to think about that. She’d thought about what had happened over Christmas far too much already.

If Dave had really loved her, Katie would not have been able to steal him. But she had. She was even going to marry him. That should have been the final straw for Holly but, strangely enough, it hadn’t been.

The final straw was that FOR SALE sign.

Holly decided then and there that she’d played Cinderella long enough. The time had come for some major changes and major decisions. She knew she’d be very sad to walk away from her dad’s pride and joy, but it had to be done. Because it wasn’t going to be her pride and joy for much longer. It would soon belong to someone else.

“I’m just ducking down to the station, Sara,” she said crisply. “I need this morning’s Herald.”

Sara glanced up from where she was finishing an exquisite table setting of pink carnations. It was for a local lady who was a pink addict.

“Looking for a new job?” Sara said.

“Absolutely.”

“About time,” Sara muttered.

A very attractive redhead in her midthirties, Sara had seen plenty of living and did not suffer fools gladly. She’d long expressed the opinion that Holly should strike out on her own.

“You’re right,” Holly agreed. “I’ll be looking for a new place to live as well.”

Sydney’s Saturday morning Herald was always chock-full of job and flat-share advertisements. Holly had actually looked before; a few weeks ago, after Dave had left her for Katie. She just hadn’t had the courage at that stage to totally change her life, and to leave everything that was so familiar to her.

But she’d found the courage now.

Sara smiled her approval. “Atta girl. And don’t you go worrying about me. As soon as you’re out of here, so am I. I wouldn’t work for that cow Connie if this was the last flower shop in Sydney.”

“She is a cow, isn’t she?”

“Of the highest order. And so’s the daughter. For what it’s worth, Katie deserves Dave. I was pleased as Punch the day you got rid of him.”

“Er…he dumped me, Sara.”

“Only good thing he ever did for you. Now you can find yourself a really nice bloke, someone who’ll appreciate your qualities.”

“Thanks for the compliment, Sara, but really nice blokes are hard to find. They certainly haven’t been thick on the ground in my life. Dave’s not the first loser boyfriend I’ve had. I seem to attract the fickle, faithless type.”

“Go get yourself a job in the city, love. Where the suits are.”

“Suits?”

“You know. Men in suits. Executive types. I used to work at a flower stall in Market Place. There was an endless parade of male eye candy walking by there, I can tell you. Talk about yummy.”

“Yes, but does wearing a suit to work equate with being a nice bloke?”

“Nope. But it often equates with money. Might as well fall for a rich guy as a poor guy.”

“You didn’t.” Sara was married to a man who worked on the railways.

“Yes, well, I’m a romantic fool.”

“I’m a romantic fool as well.”

Sara pulled a face. “Yeah. Most of us girls are. Oh well, you’d better go get that Herald before they’re all gone.”

Holly bought the last paper in the newsagent’s and hurried back to study the classifieds between customers, but the news was disappointing. There weren’t very many jobs for florists advertised that weekend. And only two in the city. As for sharing a flat…

The reality of moving in with strangers after living on her own for two years made Holly shudder. Yet she couldn’t afford to rent somewhere decent by herself, not unless her salary was pretty good. She certainly couldn’t afford to buy a place. She had some savings but not much. A couple of thousand. Having Dave as a boyfriend had not been cheap. She’d ended up paying for most things, his excuse being he was saving up for their future together.

Like, how gullible could a girl get?

Facing her shortcomings was not a pleasant experience. But by the time Sara left to go home at four o’clock and Holly began closing up the shop, she’d come to terms with her own pathetic performance as a supposedly adult woman. She had no one to blame but herself if her life was a shambles. She’d taken the line of least resistance and allowed people to walk all over her.

But no more. Come Monday morning she would get in contact with one of the many services who did professional résumés. She’d never had to apply for a job before but she knew you had to present yourself well. Then she would apply for those two jobs in the city. Sara was right. The city was the way to go.

But she wasn’t going to fall into the trap of accepting any job that paid poorly. She would need a good salary if she wanted to keep living by herself.

She didn’t have to rush. Businesses like A Flower A Day did not sell overnight. She probably had a couple of months at least to make her plans and execute them.

Meanwhile, she wasn’t going to breathe a word to Connie. And she would stash away every cent she could.

The sight of a huge bunch of red roses sitting in a bucket in the corner brought Holly up with a jolt. It was a phone order she had taken yesterday afternoon. Not one of her usual clients. A man, who’d promised to pick them up by noon today.

With a sigh, she checked her records, found his name and number, and rang.

An answering machine. Botheration. She hated answering machines.

After leaving a message saying she’d cancelled the order, Holly hung up with a sigh.

What a waste. Such lovely red roses. Expensive, too. He hadn’t wanted buds, but open flowers. They wouldn’t last more than a few days. Impossible to sell them to anyone else.

And then an idea came to her.

Mrs Crawford. She absolutely loved roses, and she wasn’t due to leave on her overseas jaunt till the end of next week. Holly could call them a going-away gift. Plus a thank you for all the times she’d dropped into the shop for a chat and a cuppa.

Nice woman, Mrs Crawford.

If Holly’s thoughts drifted momentarily to Richard Crawford, she didn’t allow them to linger. Yet there was a time when she’d thought about Mrs Crawford’s precious only son quite a bit. She’d even woven wild fantasies around him, about their meeting one day and his being bowled over by her.

Sara was right. Most women were romantic fools!

Flicking her address book over to the Cs, she checked Mrs Crawford’s number and rang to make sure she’d be there.

Engaged.

Oh, well, at least she was home.

Holly bent to scoop the roses out of the bucket, wrapped them in some silver paper and tied them with a red bow the same colour as the blooms. She would walk up to Mrs Crawford’s house and give them to her personally. It wasn’t far and the day was still pleasantly warm. The sun didn’t set till late and it was only four-fifteen.

When Holly set out, it never occurred to her that Richard Crawford might be at his mother’s house, even if it was the weekend. Mrs Crawford had told her just the other day that she rarely saw her son any more. Apparently, he’d been promoted to CEO at his bank—the youngest ever!—and was more of a workaholic than ever.

Holly took her time, strolling rather than striding out, enjoying the fresh air and mentally running through her list of things to do in the coming weeks.

Number one. Find a job, preferably in the city.

Number two. Find a flat, preferably near the city.

Number three. Find herself a nice bloke. Preferably one who wore a suit and worked in the city.

Holly pulled a face, then struck number three off her list. That could definitely wait a while.

Regardless of how much of a two-timing rat Dave had turned out to be, he’d still been her boyfriend for over a year and she’d thought she loved him. Had thought he loved her as well. He’d said he did often enough.

Dave’s dumping her for Katie had really hurt. Holly’s self-esteem was still seriously bruised and she simply wasn’t ready to launch herself back into the dating scene.

No, she would concentrate on the two things she could manage. A new job and a new place to live.

Finding a new boyfriend was not on her agenda, not for quite some time.