Keith tilted his head. “Cute family.”
Elly flicked the picture. “Nope. Weird family. Weird kid, weird backpack.” They both stared at the picture in silence, jumping when the kettle blew its long whistle. “Holy crap,” breathed Elly. It’s official, she thought, I have creeped out my boyfriend. There was a moment where she thought about the word boyfriend. It was so bizarre. Boyfriend? Elly Jordan has a boyfriend? What was she, twelve? She had already been married. Why couldn’t there be a better name? Partner? Companion? Lover? She looked down at the couch pillow lying on the floor. Definitely not lover.
Keith handed her a steaming cup of honey chamomile tea, its biscuit-scented goodness filling up the living room. Elly had the sudden urge to kiss him. She reached for him, spilling hot tea down the front of his brown shirt.
“Oh, that’s really hot!”
“Oh, Keith, I’m so sorry! I just wanted to …,” Elly felt a twinge of nervousness. “Never mind, never mind … go meet with your sausage friend.”
“When you say it like that….” Keith leaned over and kissed her gingerly.
She gave him a soft smile, her red lips puffy from sleeping. “Thanks for coming over, for sleeping on the hard floor.”
“Thanks for kissing me, even though I had a dog lick my mouth this morning.”
“Ugh, that’s right. I take it back.”
“Never,” Keith declared. “It’s out there.”
She looked down at the table. “Thanks for touching the gross backpack.”
“And the naked elf book.”
“And the naked elf book.”
“Speaking of which, what should we do with the backpack?” They both stared at the table.
“I’m not touching the underwear,” blurted Elly.
Keith ran his hand across his stubbly chin. “I think we should pack up everything and leave the backpack outside the store. That way, if he comes back to get it, he can just grab it and go. You won’t even have to talk to him.”
“What if someone steals it?” She eyed the family picture. “I would hate for that to happen.”
Keith frowned. “Yes, we wouldn’t want someone out there to get away with …,” he unfolded the magazine cutout, “a giant Buffy The Vampire Slayer poster.”
“I think I’ll put it right inside the shop door. That way, if he comes, he can just grab it and get out, and I won’t have to worry about anyone stealing it.”
Keith grabbed his keys and black wallet from the table. “That sounds like a great idea. And Elly,” he turned and faced her full on, his warm breath on her cheek, “you call me the minute he shows up. I’m right up the street, and I will be there in a second.”
“Don’t worry,” reassured Elly. “Anthony will be there, too.”
“What is he going to do, throw his ascot at him?”
Elly smacked him lightly. “Go.”
Keith strode out the door, shutting it softly behind him. The apartment was suddenly silent and Elly looked over at Cadbury, who was lying belly up in the sun. She wandered over to the table and picked up the picture of the family. There was something sad about the picture, something melancholy. Maybe it was the hideous couch in the background. Elly shrugged and ordered herself not to focus on something she obviously had no part of.
It didn’t work. Hours later at the store, she was still thinking about the backpack.
“So, who is it?” asked Anthony, twirling his pen. “Who is our celebrity?”
“Again, I told you, I don’t know.”
“You didn’t get anything in the paperwork?”
“Nope, it just says ‘Celebrity To Be Named.’ It’s all so mysterious and ridiculous all at once. They probably don’t want us talking to the tabloids.” That would be very exciting, actually. Elly loved her tabloids.
“So how does this work, then?” They were sitting at the consultation table, coming up with a plan for the BlissBride interview.
“According to the contract they sent over, we meet with the associate producer Gemma Reynolds, and she interviews us. She takes pictures of the mock-up table and meets with the owner. All that material is sent over to the celebrity client, and she picks which presentation she likes best. Even if we don’t get picked, the photo of our mock-up will still be shown on TV.”
“Sweet.” Anthony nodded. “I can’t believe her theme is pink, navy, and pinstripes.” He grimaced. “That makes my brain hurt. Still, I’m sure we can make it fabulous if we try. What have you come up with, you floral virtuoso, you?”
Elly grinned. “Well, here’s what I’m thinking….” With a pack of expensive colored pencils, she began sketching out low vases overflowing with pale-pink ranunculus, cream parrot tulips, pink-throated cymbidium orchids, gorgeous garden roses, stunning white peonies, and white-and-black anemones.