One-Off by Lynn Galli Page A

backtrack on the tease. I knew how exclusive her PhD field was, having the right professor on her team went a long way with the admissions committees. “I was joking.”
    “I,” she started and paused, pursing her lips. “I can’t always tell.”
    That was a big admission on her part. “I could be less subtle.”
    “That would help.”
    In college I used to think she always needed the last word. I could still be right about that, but I wasn’t sure in this case. We had to work together for a few weeks. I needed to start giving her the benefit of the doubt. If only to avoid aging before my time.

Nine
    I pulled to the curb in front of a flower shop that Gary suggested. It looked more posh than substance and nothing like the floral shop owned by a friend of mine. We got out of the car and entered the shop to discover I’d been right in my assessment. Dainty arrangements decorated a few tables, but no other stock could be seen.
    “Where are all the flowers?” Ainsley asked in a hushed voice.
    A woman in tight black everything slinked toward us. “Ms. MacKinnon?”
    I extended my hand and watched as she bounced her eyes back and forth between Ainsley and me. I waited to see if she’d comment. I assumed Gary told her to expect two women, not a man and a woman.
    “Fabulous.” Her tone didn’t suggest that exactly, but she reached behind the counter and brought out an iPad. She gestured to a sleek chrome table. On it, the floral arrangement consisted of five red roses and one white with some leafy greens. “Let’s take a look at what we can do for your wedding.”
    I frowned and wondered if I needed to clarify whose wedding we were planning. Not that the woman seemed concerned as she opened her tablet and began finger swiping through various photos of arrangements.
    “Are there preferences you have?”
    Of course there are preferences. Do people really come into a floral shop for their wedding flowers and not have preferences? I wasn’t much of a flower person, but even I have preferences.
    “Nothing white,” Ainsley said.
    The woman swiveled her head to look at her. “White is traditional for weddings. It’s a must.”
    That was the best way to get me to do the exact opposite. “Why?” I asked Ainsley.
    “White flowers are often used in funeral arrangements in Scotland.”
    I could see where that might make someone shiver seeing a white floral arrangement at a wedding. “It would be nice to find colors that complement the wedding colors so we aren’t drowning in blue, green, purple, and yellow.”
    “That’s an interesting mix,” the woman said diplomatically while still showing signs of a frown.
    “It’s a compromise.”
    “Ah, who wanted what?” Her finger waved between us.
    “We’re planning for my friend and her fiancé.”
    “Oh.” She straightened, physically distancing herself. I could see the hope of a commission drain from her expression. She thought we were there to peruse the offerings, not make decisions and place orders.
    “Yeah,” I said because I wasn’t sure what to do with someone who looked like she was almost refusing to serve us.
    “Skye.” Ainsley startled me with the use of my name. She hadn’t addressed me by name since she’d arrived. “My headache has gotten worse. Can we reschedule?”
    What headache? I caught the look of relief on the woman’s face and figured out what Ainsley was doing. I honestly didn’t think she had the acting chops to pull this off. “Sure. We’ll have the planner call to reschedule. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
    “No problem.” Tight black everything swept from the table as if leading an entourage into the back of the shop where she must hold the flowers hostage.
    Ainsley and I made our way back to the car. I reached for the passenger door at curbside to open it for her. Ainsley gave me and the open door a lingering glance before slipping into the car.
    “I’ve never been to a flower shop that didn’t have any flowers.”