Elly in Love (The Elly Series) (38 page)

“Maybe we can take you back here someday, then, when you feel ready?”

Dennis leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes, wiping the tears and rain off his face with the back of his sleeve. “Maybe. Someday. That sounds good,” he sighed. “Okay. Let’s go home. I’m pretty sure you have something important going on today. I thought if I left today, then you wouldn’t come after me.”

“You thought wrong.” Elly patted his shoulder and looked up to see Keith’s wide blue eyes watching her in the rearview mirror. “You are the most important thing today, Dennis.”

He rolled his eyes and looked embarrassed. “Elly, don’t overdo it. I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” He nodded and gave her hand a squeeze before pulling his hand back onto his lap.

Elly leaned forward and gently poked Keith’s shoulder. “In that case, please drive as fast as you possibly can to the airport.”

Keith frowned. “I’m already going five miles per hour over the speed limit.”

“Then please go about ten over that. You always drive so slow.”

“Fine,” he snapped before the car accelerated.

Dennis laughed in the back, a fresh sound. “You guys sound like an old married couple.” The statement hung awkwardly in the car like a slowly deflating balloon for the remainder of the ride to the airport.

Somewhere over Ohio, Keith leaned over Dennis, who was rocking a new pair of headphones that Elly had bought him at the airport.
“Psst….”

Elly cracked her eyes open an inch. Flying was less scary when you were pretending to be on a deserted island, feasting on coconut cake.
With Keith.
“Yes?”

“I need to, er, schedule a time to talk to you.” Dennis’s head bumped and rocked in the turbulence. He was out.

“Right now?”

“Yes. Right now.”

Elly closed her eyes for a minute, capturing once more the scent of his skin, and the feel of his hand. It was ironic that the man she was dreaming of was sitting two seats away from her, with only a sweaty nerd and one big secret shoved between them. So close and yet so far away.

Keith repeated his plea. “I need to schedule a time to talk. To you. Alone.”

Elly pushed her blond curls out of her face. “Can’t we talk … here?”

Keith sat back in his seat. “No. I need to show you something.”
Your girlfriend’s baby?

“Okay. I’ll be willing to see, as long as you promise to tell me the truth.”
You know, the truth. Like the fact that your couch is made of cat hair. Or that you are engaged. Or homeless. Probably engaged. You have heads in your freezer. The truth.
“The day after the
BlissBride
wedding, can you meet me in our park?”

Keith paused and the next words rung like a gong in Elly’s chest. “And I’ll bring Cadbury so that he can finally go home with you afterwards.”

Elly’s heart sank. He was giving Cadbury back to her. It was over, and he was going to break her heart in their park.
That park, the first place that Keith had made known his desire for her. The place where they had shared dozens of kisses, picnics, and memories.
This would be the place where he would now tell her the truth, and they would separate forever. She could hear the edge in his voice, the nervousness of his request. It would not be good news, she could feel it.

“Okay,” she whispered. “The day after the wedding. I’ll meet you.” She turned away to hide the hot tears burning in her eyes, the slight quiver of her full lip.

She rotated her whole body toward the window as Dennis snorted loudly in his sleep. High above the clouds, Elly felt her heart alternately grow and break in the same day. One did not cancel out the other.

Three hours later, Keith’s car came to a quick halt in front of Posies.

“Thanks for the ride, Keith.”

“Anytime.”

Oh yes, please, after we break up for good I will love nothing more than to treat you as my personal taxi.
Dennis climbed out after Elly. “Go take a nap. I’m sure you are exhausted.”

“No way. I’m helping you.”

The thought of Dennis crushing a flower into small bits ran through Elly’s mind. “Are you sure? It’s sort of delicate work….”

“I’m helping. That’s what family does. Right?”

She smiled. “Right. Are you sure this has nothing to do with the fact that there is a certain blond teenager wearing yoga pants bossing people around in there?”

“Something. But not everything.” Dennis scampered inside.

Elly’s heart was glad. “I’ll see you the night after tomorrow, then?” she said to Keith.

“I’ll bring Cadbury and all his accoutrements.”

Her veins chilled. “I’ll see you then.”

“Good luck, Elly. You are going to do great. You have a way with pulling miracles off at the last hour.” Keith pulled the car away and left Elly staring up at her apartment and then down at Posies, which was bustling with life.

She looked at her watch. Four ten p.m. With a weary sigh, Elly Jordan straightened her spine and walked straight into the heart of chaos.

The store had imploded. All the boxes of dead flowers had been removed and thrown haphazardly into the back. The floor was littered with buckets of every size, and any wall-shelf space had been utilized to hold the shorter flowers. Rows and rows of fuchsia and pink ranunculus, white lilac, boxes of stephanotis, and zinnias in every possible shade and texture of pink made the walls of her store appear like a hollowed-out valley of flowers. Multihued vases pressed up against the lush blooms, a kaleidoscope of colored glass and natural beauty. The sparse blues were clustered up against a bunch of anemones that had seen better days. It was beautiful and busy all at once. It also looked a lot like chaos, and the cameras were no doubt drinking it all in.

“You’re back!” Snarky Teenager stepped out from behind a pile of buckets.

Elly almost laughed out loud. Her assistant had never looked worse. Her normally pristine blond hair was in a tangled knot directly on the top of her head. Her makeup had obviously been sweated off hours ago, and she had stress bags under her eyes. One hand clutched a
grande
coffee, and the other was strangling some innocent Spanish pink freesia. In short, she looked like Elly every day of her life. You know, give or take like eighty pounds.

“You’re home! You’re home!” She bounced over to Elly and threw her arms around her with abandon. “Never leave again.” She turned to Dennis and wrapped him into a tight hug as well. Dennis looked as though he might die from happiness. “I’m glad you are safe. Also, I’m going to kill you later.” Dennis would surely be counting down the days.

With determination, Elly pulled her curls back into a bun and grabbed from the wall her light-blue apron adorned with apples. She clapped her hands loudly and her busy store hummed to a stop. Three cameras turned her way and a boom mic floated overhead. It had pollen smudged on it. Elly grinned. “I want to thank everyone here for designing hard all day. I know we had a bit of a crisis, but I think that with all our talents combined, we can make this an incredibly creative event. I’m going to come around and see what you are doing, and then once I see what is needed, I’ll jump in there.”

The store exploded with cries for help. “I can’t figure out what we should do for centerpieces without the garden roses!”

“One bridesmaid wants jewels in her bouquet—where are those? What are they?”

“The anemone bouts keep dying.”

A hilarious accent peeped up from the back. “Zees colors do not complement each other the way they should. My creations are masterpieces, and these ugly shades eez not helping them. It eez not appropriate for a florist of my
competence….
”

Elly closed her eyes in the cacophony of rising panic and let a vision unfold before her eyes. Her fingers twitched as, in her mind, she pulled different combinations of flowers together. She saw an eclectic collection of all shades of pinks, and all types of flowers. It was beyond definition. This wedding wouldn’t be “vintage” or “chic,” it wouldn’t be “modern” or “lush,” it would be all of those things. It would be just flowers, in their natural beauty. They wouldn’t be sculpted or meticulously arranged, they would be perfect in their contrast and shades of different textures. You couldn’t make something into something it wasn’t. Their natural state was best.

They would be just like Lola.

Elly opened her eyes and trained her gaze on a colossal mess in front of Anthony and Kim. “Let’s start with the centerpieces. I’m thinking ombré shades of wildflowers.”

They both stared at her.
“Ooh….”
Hadley let out a delighted cry from inside Kim’s sling.

It was ten p.m. when the last workers left the studio. Elly bid Anthony and Snarky Teenager goodnight and closed the door behind them, leaving only her and Greg, her favorite cameraman. The studio was a complete mess, but Elly took her time clearing off her design table, completely aware of the camera lens trained on her. Sure, it was a judgmental eye that sized up all her flaws, but Elly ordered herself—for once!—not to care. Dennis was safe, and everything was fine. She was delirious with relief. Working deliberately, she brushed all the stems off the table into the wastebasket and sprayed it down. She waded her way through a greenery carpet over to the CD player and popped in an old college CD, one that made her feel invincible and full of youthful hope. The sound of a drumroll and a seductive piano riff swelled up through the speakers, and Elly let her apron drop to the floor. She pulled the bun out of her hair, and laid out her design instruments on the table. She turned out all the lights in the studio except the design-table light, which made the table appear as if it was a stage.

Lifting her hands up above her head in a stretch, she channeled the most inspiring place she could think of: her mother’s garden in Peachtree. Visions of butterfly bushes, magnolias, and azaleas bursting with shameless sensuality rose up inside of her as she reached for the cooler, pulling out the buckets that Snarky Teenager had set aside for the bride’s bouquet. A garden didn’t need posh flowers or color coordinates. A garden was perfect in its random beauty. Its creator knew something we did not.
This would be her inspiration.
Greg adjusted the camera lens and sat on a stool nearby.

Singing out loud to herself, Elly began to assemble Lola’s bouquet with a perfect, focused precision. All thoughts of Keith and Dennis fell away as she reveled in each perfect bloom and its overall place within the bouquet. Besides, this bouquet was not about her, this bouquet was about Lola. Barbie-pink zinnias came first, with their rounded, propeller-shaped petals. Hot-pink dahlias with a creamy center hue came next. Coral peonies, already becoming lush with the heat, rounded out the corners. Bleeding hearts added drape, along with some champagne-peach oncidium orchids that trailed down near her hand. More dramatic pink-striped lady slipper orchids were added to punch the bouquet up to a whole different level. Elly began folding tea leaves and grasses into the bouquet, pairing them with silver berries and seeded eucalyptus so that the modern element wouldn’t overwhelm the flowers. Finally, she tucked just a few white-and-black anemones into the mix, making an eye-popping contrast. Stock, succulents, veronica—it all went in. Each one a bit stranger than the next.

She played for an hour, making sure that each one was in the right place, against the right flower. She shed and trimmed, plucked and curled. She added more peonies than should have been allowed. Into the design, Elly poured Lola’s life: her rise to fame, her disappointments, the media which loved and abused her, her affair with Caesar, her hopes, her dashed friendships, her new hope with Joe. When the bouquet was almost finished, Elly took twenty minutes to gently pull open each flower to its fullest bloom with a gloved hand. She spun it around, checking that it would photograph beautifully from every angle. And then, it was finished.

Yes.

The bouquet took her breath away. It was eclectic—in fact, not every bride would love this—but it was perfectly Lola. Shameless and lovely, a little bit damaged. There was an aura of youth to the bouquet, and just the right hint of glamor. Somehow, it was perfect in its bundled chaos. Dancing over to the side of the store, clumsily knocking over empty buckets, Elly pulled out the ever-so-expensive navy ribbon embedded with rhinestones—
shipped from Dubai!
—that she had had purchased for Lola’s bouquet about a month ago. She wrapped the stems with the dazzling gems and sealed them with some rhinestone pins. It was finished. With a happy sigh, she placed the bouquet in a cylinder from the dollar store. A low-key vase for a small town girl who has made it to the big time. The bouquet was complete.

Pushing aside the hordes of flowers that threatened to spill out of the cooler when she opened it, Elly made room for the bouquet so that it wouldn’t be touched by anything else, wishing that she could protect Lola in the same way. Shutting the cooler, Elly ignored the mess she had made on the counter and proceeded to clean up the studio. With a sigh, she reached for the lights.

“Uhhh … hold on.”

Elly jumped. In her design zone, she had forgotten that Greg was still there, filming. He took the camera from his shoulder. “You,” he said with a huge smile, “are spellbinding.”

As Elly walked up the stairs, she could hear the loud sounds of the TV blaring in her apartment, and Dennis laughing out loud at something ridiculous, probably the show where people bounced off of giant balloons and planted face first into muddy water. For once, the sound was like music to her ears.

The wedding day started with an overcast sky. Elly pushed back the curtains and frowned, hoping that Lola’s big day wouldn’t be ruined by rain. She showered and put on her outfit for delivery (a super combination of sexiness that no man could refuse: tan Crocs, gray yoga pants, and a long black T-shirt embroidered with her store logo) and pulled her plastic-wrapped dress for the evening from the closet. Her wedding invitation had arrived in the mail last week, a gorgeous navy striped envelope made of linen that unfolded to become a pop-up invitation exploding with orchids and raised piping inviting her to the wedding of Lola Plumb and Joseph Keats. Elly was thrilled and nervous. She had attended weddings in the past that she had also designed, and it never went well. Even though she was supposed to be a guest and enjoying herself, Elly was always checking centerpieces and keeping a wary eye on the bridal bouquet as it was flung every which direction during the reception. Eventually, she would always excuse herself to the bathroom and then make a hasty retreat after sneaking a piece of cake.
In short, it was not very fun.
But this was different. Elly had forged a bond with Lola, and it was an honor to be invited to the wedding of the year.
Sadly,
the only man she wanted to be her date would be breaking it off from her tomorrow night, so that wasn’t going to work.