Elly In Love (The Elly in Bloom #2)

“Whoa,” breathed Anthony.

Snarky Teenager wiped her eyes, which were now running with mascara, making her look like a tragic beauty queen. “Totally. I thought that there were a lot of boxes for the Kepke wedding….”

Even Elly was stunned into silence, something that was abnormal. “Well….” There was a moment where even the air seemed to let out a long exhale around them. Elly stepped forward, the water squishing out of her tennis shoes, which she knew would forever stink. Using her bright-pink box cutter, she sliced open the thick top of the box, pulling up the sharp cardboard to look inside. A strange whiff of air hissed out of the box when she opened it, and she was struck by how cold the box still was. She ran her finger down the plastic lining and came away with a light frost on her finger. “Huh.” She began pulling out the billowy clouds of tissue paper and damp (freezing) newspaper piles. Finally, she reached the plastic liner and sliced it through with her blade, reaching down to pick up some weak-necked nerine lilies. She held them up in the light, her hands expertly running over their thin pink lips and strawlike bright-green stems. Pollen fell off the first bloom she picked up, and the stem lay limp across her hand, unable to stand on its own. Its pink lips were withered and brown, almost black. “This is dead,” she remarked. “The rest?”

Anthony began rustling through the rest of the lilies, pulling out bunch after bunch. “These are dead, too!” He shook his head. “And freezing!”

Elly took a few quick steps to another big box that was marked “Garden roses.” She slit open the top and plunged her hands down into the box. The roses were freezing as well. She held up a dusty tan rose, pulling back the petals one by one. They trickled down to the ground like snow. The head was so pliable that she could squish it between her fingertips. “Dead,” she whispered. Then louder. “Dead!”

There was an eerie moment of silence as the Posies workers stared at each other in wide-eyed fear, then the store exploded in total anarchy. Like a bunch of wild animals, the three of them descended on the boxes with their box cutters, ripping and slashing the boxes and checking the contents of each freezing container.

“Dead!”

“Dead!”

“These are dead, too!”

“The orchids … oh no. Dead! The tropicals are all dead!”

Elly’s hands were shaking as she ripped open a box of striped dutch tulips. Their limp heads fell from the stems as she picked them up. She lifted her head and surveyed the store, with the hundreds of open boxes littering the floor. “What the hell?” she asked through gritted teeth.

Outside, a car door slammed.

“Grab him!” she yelled. “Hurry!”

Anthony and Snarky Teenager scampered outside into the blinding rain. Elly pushed her hands up against her eyes as a wave of panic crashed over her. The flowers were dead. The biggest wedding of her career and they were dead. The wedding was tomorrow night, the wedding of Lola Plumb, a name that every American recognized. She heard a slight clicking sound, and looked up to see two camera lenses trained straight on her. Greg was silently mouthing excited words as he captured what would surely make for riveting TV.

She closed her eyes and had an image of waves crashing over her, burying her beneath the foamy waters. She counted to ten as she allowed herself to mentally sink beneath the waves. She let the panic run its course through her curvy body, allowed her mind to entertain every nightmarish scenario (not that she needed to make it much worse, this was pretty much her nightmare come to life), and then she began praying silently. Please Lord, please let me be wise. Let me handle this with grace. Please let the editors be sympathetic.

And please help me not murder whoever is responsible for this. And Dennis too.

And one more: please be with Keith. I’m not sure why I’m praying for him. Amen.

Then she opened her eyes. Snarky Teenager pushed the agitated driver forward, her hand clutched around his collar. Anthony was standing behind him with his hands outstretched. “I had nothing to do with this,” he reassured her.

Snarky Teenager let go of his collar. The man was soaking wet and staring at the ground.

Elly walked over and gently took Snarky Teenager’s hand in her own, removing it from the man’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean to actually grab him. I meant that in a, you know, metaphorical way. Let’s try not to get sued.”

Snarky Teenager brushed off her hands as if she had touched something disgusting. “Whatever. You should say what you mean next time.”

Colleen Oakes's books