A Bouquet of Love (7 page)

“Always looking ahead, Cassia,” he said. “That's what a businessman does.”

I was looking ahead too—to Monday, when I would go back to the florist shop for a few precious hours. Babbas hadn't approved the idea, but at least I'd worked up the courage to tell him my plan. Sort of.

Not that he cared about anything related to flowers. Or me. Oh no.

Darian joined us with a notepad in his hand. He rattled off clever ideas for marketing the sandwich shop, and Babbas listened in, eyes glazed over.

“We can sell coupon books at the register,” my brother suggested. “Or maybe offer a discount card for repeat customers? Buy so many gyros and get one for free?”

“I always lose those cards,” Mama said. “So I don't think that's a good idea.”

“What we really need are interviews from local customers,” Babbas said. “Maybe at the same time we film the commercial with the new jingle. We will ask some of our new friends to give an honest opinion about Super-Gyros.”

“Unbiased, of course,” Mama said.

“Yes.” Babbas nodded. “Officer O'Reilly might be a good choice. He has the respect of the community. Although I might need to coach him just a bit, to make sure we don't have to use too many takes.”

“You can't put words in the customer's mouth, Niko.” Mama rolled her eyes.

“I wouldn't be so sure, Helena.” He glanced across the
street one last time, crossing his arms as he took note of Uncle Laz going into Parma John's. “Soon everyone on the island will be singing the Super-Gyros jingle that Cassia wrote. Just you wait and see. Our family—we will be television stars too. All of us, in our beautiful Greek costumes. And some people”—these last words he called out in a loud voice—“will learn to eat their own words!”

“Ugh.” My cue to exit. I walked back inside the shop to help Eva clear the tables. She took one look at me and stopped her work, dropping the pan of dirty dishes in the process. I caught it before it hit the floor.

“Good catch.” Eva smiled. “So what happened? Babbas again?”

“Yeah. Now he's determined to get us on TV, singing that stupid song I came up with. I could kick myself.” I watched through the plate-glass window as he carried on in animated fashion, speaking so loudly I could hear him from inside the shop.

“It's your fault for being so brilliant,” Eva said.

“Guess so.” I sighed. “But the idea of doing what he tells me instead of what I want to is eating me alive.” I made my way to the window and peered through the glass as Bella and her husband came out of Parma John's. Something about the duo always made me feel . . . Hmm. I couldn't find the right word to describe it.

“Something's bothering you.” Eva joined me at the window, her gaze drifting to the Parma John's sign across the street and then down to Bella.

“Wouldn't mind trading lives with someone normal, that's all.” I sighed as I watched Bella's husband slip his arm over her shoulder. She must've said something funny because he laughed.

“Well, I would offer to trade lives with you.” Eva rolled her eyes. “But mine isn't normal either. I wonder if anyone has a normal life. You know?”

“Yeah.” I still couldn't take my eyes off the two across the street. Bella glanced toward our shop, and I turned quickly so as not to be seen.

“You okay?” Eva asked.

“Yeah.” I went to work clearing a table, my back to the window. After a moment I paused and leaned against the counter. “This is going to sound weird, but I feel really lonely sometimes. Do you?”

“Lonely?” Eva snorted as she scrubbed a nearby table. “Seriously? We're surrounded by people on every side, especially on days like today. Who could be lonely?”

“I know, but it's possible to be really lonely when you're in a crowd, trust me. Sometimes a girl just wishes she had someone . . . I don't know . . . someone to whisper sweet nothings in her ear.” I craned my neck to catch a final glimpse of Bella and her husband as they made their way on down the street, hand in hand. “To tell her she's pretty. To tell her that she means the world to him.”

“Yeah, I get it.” My sister released a giggly sigh. “You're looking for Prince Charming.”

“I guess. But I seriously doubt he's going to appear in Texas. You know? I always pictured him to be tall, tanned, and very Santa Cruz–ish.”

“Oh, trust me, there are plenty of hunky guys here in Galveston.” Her eyes lit up as she began to gush over Cowboy Adonis, aka Alex. I couldn't chime in, of course. To do so might give away my little secret. I'd seen those eyes first, and they'd captivated me too.

I found myself deep in thought until Eva looked my way and grinned. “You're doing it again,” she said.

“What?”

“Humming ‘The Boy Next Door.'”

“At least it's not that goofy trolley song,” my mother said as she entered the shop, broom in hand. “I was getting a little tired of that one.” She whopped me on the backside with the broom and I started laughing.

“Enough singing, already!” Babbas said as he made his way back inside. “Unless it's our new jingle. We have costumes to design, a commercial script to write, and dishes to wash!” He headed to the kitchen, carrying on about his plans to grow the shop into a coast-to-coast chain. “Before long there will be a Super-Gyros on every corner!” he proclaimed.

Alrighty then.

Crazy or not, my family always brought me back around to reality. Their version of it, anyway. And with a family like mine, who had time to dream of Prince Charming?

You know you're Greek when you teach all your friends curse words and tell them they mean “hello.”

O
n Sunday morning we visited a new-to-us church. Not one of those megachurches. Babbas had sworn off those years ago, claiming it was too hard to make connections.

Interpretation: It's easier to sell people your wares in
a smaller setting.

This new church seemed pretty great. I really liked the pastor and his daughter, who, it turned out, ran the bakery next door to Parma John's. I'd seen the Let Them Eat Cake sign,
but I'd never dreamed I'd end up in church with the owner, Scarlet. We met, of all places, in the ladies' room.

Maybe it was wrong of me not to come clean about my last name or to introduce her to the rest of the family. Still, I needed time to figure out the best plan when it came to social situations like this. Not that gabbing with a new friend in the ladies' room is exactly something you could add to your social calendar, but we seemed to hit it off regardless. Might as well enjoy it before she met my father and realized he wanted to join her family-friendly church to garner new customers.

Somehow the conversation turned to my job at the flower shop. From there we shifted to a terrific conversation about wedding bouquets. Before long Scarlet filled my ears with stories of wedding cakes she'd made. My heart celebrated as she shared her vision for working with local brides. A soul sister! A fellow businesswoman, one who loved talking about weddings.

I hummed all the way back to the shop, then spent the afternoon looking over the brochure Scarlet had given me for Club Wed's vendor area. Maybe someday my bouquets would be put on display at the island's most famous wedding facility. Better yet, maybe I'd get a write-up in
Texas Bride
magazine. It could happen.

By Monday morning I could hardly wait to get to work. I said my goodbyes to the family—
Really, Babbas? Are
the tears necessary?—
then walked down the Strand to Patti-Lou's Petals. I found Marcella inside, already looking frazzled.

“Oh, Cassia, I'm so glad you're here.” She pointed at the little girl behind the counter. “This is my daughter, Anna. She's home sick from school today. I hope you don't mind. I'm praying she's not contagious.”

The little girl let out a series of sneezes and then started coughing. Looked like I'd have to use a lot of hand sanitizer today. Marcella took Anna into the back room to rest on the love seat, and I waited on a customer. After that, we turned our attention to a meeting with a local bride-to-be named Gabi. A dress designer by trade, she brought several sketches for us to look at. Once I saw the design of her gorgeous wedding gown, I couldn't help but gasp.

“It's exquisite!”

“Thank you.” She blushed. “I've designed gowns for other brides, but coming up with something for myself wasn't easy.”

I would think, with Gabi being a size 2 and all, that coming up with a design would be a piece of cake. Then again, what did I know about dress design? I did know flowers, though, so I gave her my ideas, all of which I tailored to go with the lovely gown.

“If you're going with an all-white theme, then I would suggest orchids and tea roses. Alex brought in the prettiest white tea roses the other day. Let me see if I can find one to show you.” I snagged one and brought it back. “For the boutonnieres I would scale back on the orchids and use more of a rose theme. But if you decide to do corsages for the mothers and grandmothers, maybe just a hint of orchid mixed with a couple of the tea roses. What do you think?”

She stared at the flowers I'd pieced together and then looked back up at me. “I think the flow of the orchids is perfect with the lace pattern in the dress. They're very much alike, actually.”

“Yes, that's what made me think of orchids. When I saw the fabric I knew the flowers would be the perfect complement.”

“You're so great at this.” She gave me an admiring look.
“What if I just left it up to you, Cassia? Be creative. I'll give you full rein. Seriously.” She quickly glanced at the time on her cell phone and then rose. “I'm so sorry, but I have to make a stop by the fabric store before meeting Bella for lunch. There's so much to do when you're in wedding-planning mode.” She thanked us both, gave Marcella a hug, and then swept me into her arms, gushing over me.

When she left, Marcella gave me an admiring look. “Well now.”

“Hmm?”

“Girl, you really do love flowers,” she said. “And you're great with them. Very inspiring. The customers are going to eat that up.”

“Thank you. If you look at my résumé you'll see that I—” Yikes. I stopped right there.

“I can sense it all over you. This is more than a job for you.”

“Oh, you have no idea. There's something about the scent of flowers that . . .” My eyes stung as a hint of tears threatened to spill over. “It's so goofy. I can't believe I get emotional over flowers.”

“No, I think it's great,” she said. “I wish I felt that way. I'm just so busy these days, I don't think much about the flowers anymore. They're more tools of the trade now. Not a passion. I can remember a time when I could look at the design of a dress or even the type of fabric in the gown and know instinctively what flowers to choose. These days I make suggestions and choices out of rote. I've done this so many times now. You know?”

“Oh, I'm sure you work with so many customers.”

“You have no idea. Sometimes I forget how much the flowers I'm putting together mean to the people I'm selling them
to. They're going to be given to graduates and prom queens, brides and spouses.”

“That's what I love.” My excitement grew as I shared my heart. “As I'm putting together the flowers, I'm thinking about the people . . . and praying for them.”

“I need to do that,” she said and sighed. “Just the other day I filled an order for a family that had just lost their mom. So sad. I hate working funerals most of all.”

“I'm sure it's hard, but think of the comfort and joy those flowers bring.” I gave her an encouraging smile.

“Weddings are still my favorite.”

“Mine too.”

Our conversation turned to fabrics and then to Gabi's dress design. Before I knew it, Marcella had told me the whole story of how Gabi had fallen in love with her husband-to-be, a reporter for
Texas Bride
. Then her words grew more serious as she talked about her own marriage.

“I won't say it's all a bed of roses. Marriage is a lot of work, especially when you bring kids into the picture. But love—if you can find it—will change your heart forever. It will make you rethink the things you thought you wanted and give you a sense of purpose.”

“Not sure I've ever really been in love,” I said. “I thought I was once. I was seventeen.” I giggled as I reflected on the boy I'd been so enamored with. He'd gone on to college in another state, and my heart had broken into a thousand pieces.

“Hard to know what love looks like until it slaps you upside the head,” she said.

“I like to think about it.” I rose and put the orchids and tea roses back into the case. “It gets me excited just dreaming about it. I figure it's kind of like waiting for a rose to open
up. You know? I've been waiting a long time, but I know it's gonna be worth the wait.”

I heard someone clear his throat behind me and turned to find Alex standing there. His cockeyed grin clued me in to the fact that he'd overheard our conversation. Oops. Well, what could I do about it now?

“Did I hear someone say something about roses?” His eyes sparkled as he lifted the bucket filled with the most gorgeous reds I'd ever laid eyes on. “We have a new line with bolder colors than we've ever produced.”

“Oh, Alex . . .” Marcella and I spoke in unison as we leaned in close to get a better look.

“They're beautiful,” I added.

“Glad you agree.” The warmth of his smile echoed in his voice. “My dad is sure this one's going to be our biggest seller. And based on what you just said, I'm going to tell my dad we should call them . . . brace yourselves . . .” He looked at me. “The Cassia.”

“No way.” Was he teasing me? Judging from the serious look in his eyes, no.

“I think it's a great idea.” He put the bucket down and flexed his upper arms. “Impulsive decision based on our last conversation. Hope you don't mind. That whole story about waiting for them to open up was great. Seems like we've been waiting for this new line to bloom for ages.” He pulled one from the bucket and passed it my way. “What do you think?”

“I love it.”

“Great. Just wanted your stamp of approval before making the name official. There are over one hundred species of roses.” His fingers swept over mine as he touched the rose in
my hand. “I thought you might get a kick out of knowing you're now one of them.”

“I'm so flattered.” Really,
flattered
hardly described the feelings going on inside my heart right now. Zing-zing-zing! I breathed in the luscious scent of the gorgeous red bloom and sighed. “I just can't believe you would do this. You hardly know me.”

“Oh, I know you, all right.” He gave me a little wink. “You're a rose, remember? I can tell you anything you want to know about yourself, just based on that.”

“Right, right.” I hardly knew what else to say. In our family, things—and people—got named with ABCs for convenience's sake. No one took the time to focus on one person's name like this. To give it special meaning. I didn't know how to take such a grandiose gesture.

And how timely that Marcella and Alex had both made a point to tell me how much my love of flowers meant to them. It felt really good to have someone—in this case, a couple of someones—notice and even care about my interests. I certainly didn't get that sort of admiration at home. Not over flowers, anyway. Jingles, sure. Roses, not so much.

Alex continued to share his father's vision for the new Cassia line as he came and went from the shop, lugging in bucket after bucket. The reds had blown me away, of course, but those pinks! And the yellows. I could hardly believe the vibrant colors.

“These yellows are my mom's favorites,” he said. “But then again they would be. She's a Texas girl through and through.”

“Texas girl?”

“Sure.” He nodded. “You're a Texas girl now too. All Texas gals love yellow roses, right, Marcella?”

“Yep.” Marcella nodded.

None of this was making sense to me.

“Mama's from Splendora,” Alex said, “so she's always been partial to the Yellow Rose of Texas.” His eyes narrowed. “You know that story, right?”

“Not really.” I shrugged, still distracted by the beautiful roses.

“Started right here in Galveston and involved a beautiful young woman named Emily who was kidnapped by Mexican forces while they ravaged the island.”

Marcella shivered. “Such an awful story.”

Alex leaned forward and spoke in hushed tones. Not sure why, since our only customer was on the opposite side of the shop. “According to folklore, Emily, um, distracted General Santa Anna and he let his guard down. This led to the Texans winning the fight.”

He'd no sooner said the word
Texans
than an incoming customer started talking about the Texans—not the ones in the Battle of San Jacinto, but the football team. Turned out their victories were a bit more interesting to the guys.

Seconds later I'd lost Alex altogether, but I could hardly take my eyes off the red rose he'd given me. I still couldn't figure out what his story about Emily had to do with yellow roses, but I did like that fact that he'd called me a Texas girl. No one had ever called me that before. And strangely, it didn't bother me. In fact, it felt pretty good—nearly as good as this rose felt as I lifted it and ran the soft petals across my cheek.

Yep. I was a Texas girl, all right, one who couldn't stop humming. Over the next half hour I went through every song in the Judy Garland catalog, humming with abandon. I hadn't really noticed until a customer pointed it out.

After waiting on a woman ordering flowers for a memorial
service, Marcella decided to take her daughter home for a nap. “Why don't you put the Out to Lunch sign on the door, Cassia?” she said.

“Oh, I don't mind staying here.” My stomach grumbled and Alex laughed.

“I'll make her go to lunch, Marcella,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes.

“I'll bet you will.” Marcella gave him a knowing look, and I felt little butterflies flit through my stomach.

She left with Anna, and Alex turned my way, a pleading look in his eyes. “Okay, so what's it gonna be?”

“What do you mean?”

“What kind of food do you like?” Before I could tell him that I'd brought my lunch—a Greek salad and loukoumades—he snapped his fingers. “If we had more time I would take you to Moody Gardens. There's a great restaurant there and we could look at the flowers. Ever been?”

“Not yet, but I've been dying to go. Sometime when I have a few hours to kill.” Like that would ever happen.

“Agreed. You really need to take your time at Moody Gardens to get the full effect, especially if you're a flower lover.” He looked my way, those gorgeous eyes now sparkling. “Oh, I know. There's a new place a few blocks down that's really great. A Greek sandwich shop.”

“Super-Gyros.” I bit my lip and forced myself not to say anything else.

“Yes.” He nodded. “Great place. I ate there Saturday. The gyro was out of this world, and the baklava . . . Man. Never had anything like it. I could eat a whole tray.”

Mama would love that news, but I couldn't comment. At least not yet.