I opened the rear hatch and did the same. “Any extras today?”
“Yes, actually. An abundance of alstroemeria.” He pulled out the bucket. “I can add it to your next bill if you want some.”
They were a gorgeous shade of golden yellow. I stuck my nose in the blooms and inhaled deeply. “Why the abundance?”
“There was a big order cancellation.”
“Well, I’ll definitely take some.”
Wally got to work unloading my end-of-the-week orders from Saturday, along with some unexpected alstroemeria. Once my bounty was inside, I cleaned and cut the stems, put them in new buckets with fresh water and flower food, stored them in the cooler, and went out front to switch the sign from Closed to Open. I swept up the mess and had just finished the by-noon arrangement when the bell on my front door chimed.
I didn’t have to look up to see who it was.
George came every Monday at ten fifteen on the dime to purchase a bouquet for his wife, Sylvia. They’d been married for sixty-four years and he still bought her flowers. I didn’t care what Hollywood said, that white-haired, age-spotted, arthritic old man was the epitome of romance. I secured a ribbon around the stems of the bouquet I was finishing. “Good morning, George.”
His cane tapped a slow rhythm as he slipped off his hat and made his way to the counter. According to George, that’s what a man was supposed to do when talking to a lady—take off his hat. “Good morning, Miss Amelia. That’s a fine-looking bouquet you have there.”
I held it up. “You like?”
“It’s awfully pretty. Awfully pretty indeed.”
“Wayne Sawyer ordered it for his wife’s birthday.” I set it off to the side. “What’ll it be for you today, George?”
He rubbed the gray stubble on his chin. “How about something yellow?”
“I have the perfect thing!” I brought Wayne’s bouquet back to the cooler and pulled out a small collection of gerbera daisies, daisy poms, and some of the alstroemeria I splurged on earlier, and brought them out to the front to arrange them.
“Those are nice,” George said, waving his finger at the alstroemeria. “Yellow is Sylvia’s favorite color, you know.”
“I think you may have told me once or twice.”
“When we first got married, we lived in this teeny tiny garage of a home up in Rhinelander. And do you know what my Sylvia did?”
I did, actually, but I didn’t mind hearing the story again. “What’d she do, George?”
“She painted all of our walls yellow. Every single room.”
I looked up from my artwork. “Every single room?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Were you upset?”
“How could I be? Our house looked like the sunshine. It looked like my Sylvia.”
I put the finishing touches on the bouquet and handed it over. “Well then, this ought to make her extremely happy.”
“Yes, it ought.”
I rang George up, wished him a wonderful week, and helped him out the door as he recapped his head and hobbled toward his car with his bright yellow bouquet in hand. Unlike my other customers, who were local residents, George was a bit of a mystery. He didn’t live in Mayfair. Most likely he came from somewhere close by, one of the nearby towns without a flower shop of its own.
The phone rang just as George pulled away from the curb in his Lincoln Navigator. I waved one last time, then hurried inside to answer it. It was my delivery guy calling to say he was sick and getting sicker. I ordered him to rest up and get well soon, then called Astrid back, hoping it wasn’t too late for her to come in after all. We had two bouquets that needed delivering, along with the arrangements for the book club. But Astrid didn’t answer. I drummed my fingers on the countertop for a few minutes.
Normally I’d call up Rachel and she’d make the deliveries without any questions. But Rachel was currently out of commission. I twisted my lips to the side. My brother was working. One of my stepsisters worked as a lawyer in Milwaukee. The other, however, lived in Green Bay, not more than twenty minutes north of Mayfair. She stayed at home with her two young boys. Maybe she’d do me a favor and deliver the flowers for me. I let out a sigh and dialed her up.
She answered on the fourth ring.
“Hi, Crystal. It’s Amelia.”
“Amelia? Well this is unusual, hearing from you on a Monday morning.”
“I’m in a bit of a bind at the shop.”
“Oh?”
“My delivery guy called in sick, and I can’t get ahold of my other employee. I hate to bother you, but I was wondering if there was any way you could make some deliveries for me.”
“Deliveries?”
“I’ll pay you back the gas money. It shouldn’t take more than an hour, tops.”
There was a pause on the other end. “Oh, I wish I could, but Milo and Henry have to nap.”