“Make sure you don’t forget the Meske pick-up at 4,” she instructed. “I’ll call you on my way back.”
Snarky Teenager nodded and walked back into the shop, butt cheeks hanging out of her underwear that Elly believed were masquerading as shorts. I have got to talk to her about those. She knew she wouldn’t.
Elly pulled her van onto the street, heading for Interstate 40. The air conditioning blew on her freckled skin. The wedding today was at the Botanical Gardens. While beautiful and romantic, Elly loathed delivering there. Not only did the ceremony site feel like it was approximately 100 miles from the entrance, it was in the African Garden – Elly snorted - but it was hot as Hades and she was going to have to truck it all out there on her little cart. Elly turned up the radio, trying to ignore the oncoming trauma.
When she arrived at the gate, she was first waved through to the wrong entrance, where caterers’ unloaded white push carts and frozen shrimp platters. She drove around until she found a suitable entrance, which was still across the garden from the ceremony, quite the distance from Elly’s perception. Lifting the first box of flowers holding the bouquets, she carried it across the parking lot and into the bride’s room. The bride was not there yet – thankfully – so she unloaded the vases, taking a minute to admire their simple loveliness. The bride’s bouquet was white orchids, Queen Anne’s lace, white mini-callas and white roses with green berry accents. Next to the bright pink, green and yellow, the whites looked even more radiant in their crystal vase.
Huffing back out to the van, Elly threw the box in the back and proceeded to grab the men’s flowers. The handsome young men dressed in khaki suits were actually nearby in the garden lobby, much to Elly’s relief.
“Um, excuse me. Excuse me?”
The men ignored her.
“You!” she pointed at the groom, who was taking swig from a small bottle of liquor. They looked up, annoyed.
“I need to pin you.”
The boys snickered. Elly suddenly felt small.
“Please put on your jacket and come over here.”
The groom sauntered over, sizing up Elly with red bloodshot eyes. She grabbed his tea rose bout and held it up against the jacket.
“Don’t stick me” he joked, leaning backwards.
Elly looked up at him with wide eyes. “You know, that is the first time I have EVER heard that. You’re so hilarious!” She tilted her head sideways. Elly hated guys like these, the same type of guys who had picked on her for her weight in high school, the kind of guys who didn’t take their wedding day seriously, the kind of guys who thought affairs were a given. She arched her eyebrow. “Also, you shouldn’t drink before your wedding. Your bride has spent a year planning for this day and you shouldn’t be drunk for it. The ceremony is sacred.”
The groom’s smile faded. His groomsmen stared at her, open-mouthed.
“Okay then!” she said nervously and bounced back to the car. Sometimes her mouth was a problem.
Elly took a second to drink some water, and then started loading her centerpieces onto a small cart. The large glass trumpet vases went first, followed by small fishbowls, filled with delicately wrapped lily grass and pink lotus flowers. This was the first trip. Twenty sweaty minutes later, she returned – after fighting her way, cart and all, across the Japanese and Victorian gardens with glassware bouncing on gravel paths – to get the second part of the centerpieces. The back of the van held clear glass dishes dripping with amaranthus, fuchsia tea roses, Green Goddess callas, yellow dahlias and pink gerbera daisies. Flowers covering the cart, carrying two arrangements against her hip, Elly proceeded out to the garden. In the middle of the African garden, a gorgeous white tent billowed in the wind. Elly set down the centerpieces and took a moment to catch her breath. Then she started setting up. Fishbowls and lotus flowers were set lining the bar, the buffet and the head table. She then interspersed delicate white votives between them. The trumpet vases went up after that, set onto the bright fuchsia tablecloths, and surrounded by loose green orchids.
Elly was finally starting to relax, to enjoy decorating for this beautiful event, when she heard a familiar shrill voice echo across the garden: “Why are mah strawberries dipped in pink sprinkles? We wanted yellow! We sent that over in a contract YESTERDAY!”