Elly in Love. Colleen Oakes
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.
Anthony looked over her shoulder and whistled. “I have to admit, girl, you’re making that look pretty good.”
Elly leaned back. “My guess is that all the other florists are going to go for big, tall, and explosive. But this wedding ‘theme’ doesn’t’ really call for that. It calls for a sleek feel to go with the pinstripes.”
Anthony twiddled his thumbs. “This will be big. We’ll need help. Are you going to, er, call her?”
Elly bit her lip. “I don’t know who you are talking about.”
“Glitter thongs. European half shirts. Teal eye makeup. Excellent design instinct.”
Elly sighed as she colored in fuchsia-striped dahlias. “Yes, yes. I’ll call her. But I’m not going to grovel. She’s the one who stomped out of here with a stick up her….” She turned to Anthony. “Forget it. Would we be in season for gay paree peonies?”
He retreated behind the desk. “Researching now.”
Elly stretched her elbows out on the cool table and looked at her sketches. “These look great, but they are almost too girly. Maybe some white or silver organic greenery would draw out the pink.” She illustrated it out before her and sat back with a smile. “Yes. Perfect. Anthony, I have a good feeling about this.”
He looked up from the computer. “Those froufrou peonies are going to about two hundred dollars a bunch.”
“They have no budget.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Holy crap, in that case, then yes. We can get those, lots of them.” Elly set down the silver pencil and stared out her store window. “Maybe …,” Elly paused, running her fingertips over her full lips.
“Maybe what?”
“Maybe if we book the BlissBride wedding, we could perhaps think about opening another store.”
Anthony gave a wide grin. “Seriously?”
“It’s just a thought, nothing more. Please don’t say anything to anyone. I need time to think about it, maybe talk it over with a financial expert.” Herself.
“I won’t, I promise. But, in my opinion, it’s worth considering. You are at the top of your game right now. It’s a great time to expand your business.”
Elly nodded. “Let’s get through the interview first. I need to call Wildflower Linens and see if I can get a pinstripe tablecloth—maybe with raised crystal beading….”
Anthony held up his finger as he picked up the shrill phone on the desk. “Posies, this is Anthony speaking….” He put his palm over the mouthpiece. “It’s your hot sandwich man. Hey, ask him if I can run over and grab a cold cut special.”
Elly winked at Anthony and grabbed the phone. “Hey!”
“Hey, beautiful! How’s it going over there? Did Backpack Boy ever show up?”
Elly looked out the front window. “Nope, no sign of him. Now that it’s daylight and I’m in the store, I’m feeling a little bit like an idiot.” She wound the cord around her wrist, actually feeling more like a sixteen-year-old than anything, swooning at the sweet voice on the other end. “Do you have plans tonight?”
“Only you. What should we do?”
“Well, I would love to finally see your place,” said Elly. “I want to see if you really are a secret hoarder like I suspect. Is it baseball cards? Creepy old dolls?”
Keith laughed and then fell oddly silent. “Not tonight. I told you, I need fair warning to clean for you. I want you to still find me attractive after you see my place.”
Elly