for creating things that
showcase what we have in the area.”
“If you say so,”
she said.
I desperately
needed to call Leo and tell him about my mother showing up. He was another
person I had hid my invitation blunder from. I did get a quick text out to
Maggie to meet us out here. I felt a full-on panic attack hitting me when I
started guessing how she would react.
Once we’d
ascended the ancient steps, we knocked on a screen door. Lenny Stokes himself
came to the other side. He peered out, scratching his scrawny body clad only in
a thin white T-shirt and saggy blue jeans.
“Yes?” was his
form of a cordial greeting to his prospective customers.
“Mr. Stokes, I’m
Betsy Livingston. We wanted to come out and see the flowers for our wedding.
Remember we spoke earlier on the phone, and I mailed you our deposit?”
His eyes
squinted at me as he assessed whether or not he thought I was telling the
truth. I recognized a flowered jar of the church batch of calamine lotion from
the Christmas bazaar in his hand. He was rubbing the lotion into an angry rash
on his arm. Mr. Andre came out from behind him. He pulled his arms close to
his body to avoid Lenny, and then briefly looked down on him and shook his
head. He turned to me.
“Betsy, dear.
Glad you could make it,” he said. “I’ve been here for almost fifteen minutes.
Mr. Stokes and I have been discussing your flowers. Can I speak to you alone
for just a minute?”
“Yes,” I said.
Mr. Stokes
started to head inside, but Charlotte stopped him. “Would you mind if I looked
at the flowers in your greenhouse?”
“They’re over
there,” was his gruff response. My mother went down the porch ahead of us and
into one of the two domed greenhouses. Mr. Stokes followed her, set the jar of
lotion down on the porch railing and continued scratching his rash along the
way. Mr. Andre pulled me off the porch and we walked around the corner of the
house.
“After talking
with Farmer Sam here, I’ve decided his quality is not up to my standards. His
roses are limp. The petals and leaves are not firm, and the bloom diameter is
much too small.”
Like I cared
that much about flowers. Still, I didn’t want to let Martha down if I could
help it. “Well, it’s early in the year,” I said. “The flowers have some growing
to do before the wedding.”
“And you want to
gamble on this yeehaw?”
I thought about
Martha and the desperate way she had approached me in the supermarket.
“I was hoping
to,” I said weakly.
“Well, put your
trust in me,” Andre said. “I am the professional, after all. This isn’t my
first Rodeo Drive.”
Aunt Maggie
pulled up in her car, and seeing me and Mr. Andre around the corner, she got
out of the car and headed toward us.
“Sorry, I’m
late, Betsy,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind, I needed to bring Danny along.
He didn’t feel like going to his workshop today.”
Danny trudged up
behind Maggie. “Hi Betsy,” he said. He looked over at Mr. Andre and stepped up
to shake his hand. “Hi.” He shook Mr. Andre’s hand a little too hard. “I like
your shiny shirt.”
“No problem,
Aunt Maggie,” I said. “Mr. Andre and I were just discussing Mr. Stokes. He
doesn’t want to use him.”
Martha Stokes
came running around the corner, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. She had an
apron on top of a floral blouse. “Oh, dear. Lenny just told me you were here. I
hope he was polite. I’m so sorry. My husband has a way of making people angry.
I do hope you’ll come look at our flowers.” She gestured toward the
greenhouses.
Mr. Andre
snapped together his clipboard and started down the steps. “While I can already
see that you are a much nicer person than your husband, ma’am, I’m afraid we’ll
have to pass on this one. I have a long-standing relationship with Baskets of
Bluebonnets, and we’ll be going there. Let’s go, Betsy.”
“Uh, wait I need
to get …” I started to round the corner of the
showcase what we have in the area.”
“If you say so,”
she said.
I desperately
needed to call Leo and tell him about my mother showing up. He was another
person I had hid my invitation blunder from. I did get a quick text out to
Maggie to meet us out here. I felt a full-on panic attack hitting me when I
started guessing how she would react.
Once we’d
ascended the ancient steps, we knocked on a screen door. Lenny Stokes himself
came to the other side. He peered out, scratching his scrawny body clad only in
a thin white T-shirt and saggy blue jeans.
“Yes?” was his
form of a cordial greeting to his prospective customers.
“Mr. Stokes, I’m
Betsy Livingston. We wanted to come out and see the flowers for our wedding.
Remember we spoke earlier on the phone, and I mailed you our deposit?”
His eyes
squinted at me as he assessed whether or not he thought I was telling the
truth. I recognized a flowered jar of the church batch of calamine lotion from
the Christmas bazaar in his hand. He was rubbing the lotion into an angry rash
on his arm. Mr. Andre came out from behind him. He pulled his arms close to
his body to avoid Lenny, and then briefly looked down on him and shook his
head. He turned to me.
“Betsy, dear.
Glad you could make it,” he said. “I’ve been here for almost fifteen minutes.
Mr. Stokes and I have been discussing your flowers. Can I speak to you alone
for just a minute?”
“Yes,” I said.
Mr. Stokes
started to head inside, but Charlotte stopped him. “Would you mind if I looked
at the flowers in your greenhouse?”
“They’re over
there,” was his gruff response. My mother went down the porch ahead of us and
into one of the two domed greenhouses. Mr. Stokes followed her, set the jar of
lotion down on the porch railing and continued scratching his rash along the
way. Mr. Andre pulled me off the porch and we walked around the corner of the
house.
“After talking
with Farmer Sam here, I’ve decided his quality is not up to my standards. His
roses are limp. The petals and leaves are not firm, and the bloom diameter is
much too small.”
Like I cared
that much about flowers. Still, I didn’t want to let Martha down if I could
help it. “Well, it’s early in the year,” I said. “The flowers have some growing
to do before the wedding.”
“And you want to
gamble on this yeehaw?”
I thought about
Martha and the desperate way she had approached me in the supermarket.
“I was hoping
to,” I said weakly.
“Well, put your
trust in me,” Andre said. “I am the professional, after all. This isn’t my
first Rodeo Drive.”
Aunt Maggie
pulled up in her car, and seeing me and Mr. Andre around the corner, she got
out of the car and headed toward us.
“Sorry, I’m
late, Betsy,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind, I needed to bring Danny along.
He didn’t feel like going to his workshop today.”
Danny trudged up
behind Maggie. “Hi Betsy,” he said. He looked over at Mr. Andre and stepped up
to shake his hand. “Hi.” He shook Mr. Andre’s hand a little too hard. “I like
your shiny shirt.”
“No problem,
Aunt Maggie,” I said. “Mr. Andre and I were just discussing Mr. Stokes. He
doesn’t want to use him.”
Martha Stokes
came running around the corner, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. She had an
apron on top of a floral blouse. “Oh, dear. Lenny just told me you were here. I
hope he was polite. I’m so sorry. My husband has a way of making people angry.
I do hope you’ll come look at our flowers.” She gestured toward the
greenhouses.
Mr. Andre
snapped together his clipboard and started down the steps. “While I can already
see that you are a much nicer person than your husband, ma’am, I’m afraid we’ll
have to pass on this one. I have a long-standing relationship with Baskets of
Bluebonnets, and we’ll be going there. Let’s go, Betsy.”
“Uh, wait I need
to get …” I started to round the corner of the
Similar Books
