The Ladybug Jinx (2 page)

“Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal.”

From a headstone in Ireland

2

“Damn!” Sam floored the pedal, remembering the Mercedes dealer telling him how fast the hunk of metal could go. He needed to get out of the rat race he threw himself into over the past six months and skipping out of Los Angeles was the only way he knew how.

Devoting the past year of his life to take care of his fiancé, Bianca, was a no brainer. Her death left him feeling cheated, defeated and angry. Throwing himself into his acting career, allowed him to momentarily forget his heartache.

Making it to the sleepy little town just before sunrise was a perfect pit stop for some fuel, both for his body and car. A good stop to help him plan his journey to nowhere and anywhere other than his life. Sam laughed out loud reading the irony of the town sign. Welcome to Grandberry Falls. It reminded him of the make-believe towns his film characters lived in.

The carriage street lights lined the main street, giving a cozy glow to the cobblestone street stretched ahead. The red stop light forced Sam to look around at his surroundings where everything was sleeping, but one dim light. The Fatted Pig Diner was a welcome sight for a much needed cup of coffee. Too bad The Trembling Cup Coffee House wasn’t open, Sam thought looking at the inviting porch next to the twinkling waterfall.

“Ah, ha. The Grandberry Falls, namesake.” He wondered if he should go throw a coin in.

Odd
, he’d never seen a town centered around such a beautiful feature.

Sam looked around for a parking lot only to notice off street parking. He had seen the Andy Griffith show as a child and never dreamed he would find himself smack dab in the middle of Mayberry.

Putting his keys in his pocket, he fingered the coins. The waterfall baited him to come and make a wish. Only he didn’t know what to wish for. He only knew he didn’t want to be an actor.

“Take a seat where ever you want.” The lady behind the counter called out to Sam when he pushed open the door. Yep, he thought, he was definitely in Mayberry or she could be Flo from Al’s diner. He chuckled to himself.

How endearing, Sam thought glancing around at the square retro dining tables, each properly set with coffee cups and silverware just waiting to be used.

He dare not sit at the bar. That looked like pissing territory from the stares he was receiving by the four older gentlemen sporting their John Deere caps.

Quietly he chose the table in the front right corner in eye shot of his car. He pulled the classic pleather diner chair causing a slight squeak, not looking up to see if anyone had notice. A shiver crept up his spine when the Dueling Banjo song from Deliverance started playing in his head.

“Mornin’. What can I get you?” The Flo look alike came up from behind the counter, filled the coffee cup and put the newspaper in front of him.

“Do you have a menu?” Sam didn’t seem to find one on the table. He had to concentrate on what she was saying in order to understand her twang.

“Nope. We make it all.” She twirled her pen in the air. “Basics, eggs, bacon, grits, biscuits.” She put the pen back in her falling down bun.

“I’ll have it all,” Sam said with confidence. His stomach had come alive with every food item she listed.

He smiled as the waitress walked back scribbling on her pad. He knew he threw her for a loop, just as her diner had thrown him for one.

Sam’s mind drifted back to Bianca before she was sick. Her sun kissed blonde hair tussled over his pillow always made his heart pound. He could endlessly touch the ends of her hair careful not to wake her. Many times he smelled her, not only sleeping next to her but during love making.

Her soft hands comforted him after long days of working on set. He was known as the bad boy, the trouble maker on set. At home he was different. Sam had never cared for or respected any woman as he did Bianca. She took the chaos out of his life.

The clinking dishes bought him out of his deep image of Bianca, forcing his eyes to focus on the paper. Just as he was turning to the front page, the waitress walked over to fill his cup.

“Where you from?” she asked.

Have you no shame? He’d never been around someone so nosy. Sam thought thinking of the right answer, “California.” He answered truthfully. Why not? After breakfast, he was going to hop back in his car. He quickly looked down for fear she would recognize him. The last thing he needed was to be found by his agent or paparazzi.

“What ya doing down in these parts?”

Her silver name badge read Mamie. She looked like a Mamie although he’d never met a Mamie. “Well, Mamie.” He didn’t have to worry about coming up with some lame brain excuse, she was off and running to the next table. The diner was getting fuller by the second.

Sam was amazed how thin and basic the paper was. He was used to the Times. He opened the front page to a photo of two women and a baby. He laughed when he read the caption “three generations.” He reread the caption and studied the photo trying to figure out why it was news.

The waitress waited next to Sam holding his plate in one hand, “Move the paper.” She demanded him and he obliged without question.

“Mamie, why is this news?” He pointed to the three generations of women.

“Three generations.” Mamie beamed with pride like she knew them, “Ain’t she cute.”

Sam surprised himself agreeing with her. He has never paid any attention to children.

“You should see her in person.” Mamie talked like the little baby was of royalty.

She still didn’t answer his question on why it was important, but for some reason it seemed to warm his heart. He hadn’t seen anyone so happy to celebrate three generations, much less a community.

The help wanted ads jumped out as soon as he turned the page. One in particular.

Wanted: Delivery boy Ladybug Florist, apply in person. Ask for Celia Briggs.

Flower delivery boy? The question pleased Sam. He could imagine a breakfast date with Mamie every morning, reading the local paper and delivering flowers. How ironic. Bianca had loved flowers. She’d never let their house go without fresh flowers every week. 

At first Sam didn’t understand why it took so long. “Just pick one,” he’d say to her when she would walk through the aisle of the open air farmer’s market. He smiled remembering how she would pick up each stem, raise it to her nose and slowly inhale the fresh scent. Sam secretly enjoyed going to the market taking a sexual pleasure in her picking sequence.

He couldn’t wait to get her home and seductively make love to her. She knew she was seducing him with each flower, she knew what waited for them when they got home.

“You want your check?” Mamie interrupted his thoughts. “You’re taking up a four topper and we have a line. If you want to stay, you need to move to the bar.” Mamie slammed down the check.

“Mamie, what do you know about Celia Briggs?” He studied her face.

“What you want with Celia?” Mamie growled like a protective mother. Sam instantly knew if he wasn’t going to get much out of her.

“She’s looking for a delivery boy and I’m looking for a new job.”

Mamie slid her fingers down the eye glass chain until it reached the stem of her glasses. She placed them on her head taking the paper from Sam and reading the help wanted ad.

“I think she wants a boy, not a man.” Mamie’s accent drug out the ‘a’ in man.

Sam wasn’t going to let Mamie detour him. He had a feeling about this job. Maybe it was the connection to Bianca; maybe it was a fresh start that excited him. All he knew was that he’d be going there before it opens and apply before anyone else.

The sleepy town had come alive. Trucks had lined the main street and pedestrians walked along the sidewalks where the carriage lights had long shut off. Several people lined along the wrought-iron fence, with their coffee’s from The Trembling Cup, and watching the waterfall. Quickly Sam took the coin out of his pocket, and tossed it in with hopes he’d be The Ladybug’s new delivery man.

Sam used his Blackberry to retrieve the address of The Ladybug and the Garmin to find it. He found the town to be somewhat remote and backwards, but liked the slow pace. Even driving behind the John Deere tractor made him smirk.

The country roads lead to the brick driveway with a small wooden sign: The Ladybug Florist. His stomach pitted. He had never applied for a job he knew he wasn’t going to get. What about questions, job references? Hell, Sam thought, it’s a delivery boy.

He found the red brick home odd for a floral shop, but woman turn a piece of wire into a piece of art. He wasn’t one to question a woman, something he learned long ago from his own mother.

Sam noticed the cute dog having a field day with his presence at the bay window. The closer he got the small grey dog yelped. The sign on the door signaled the florist was not open.

The listed time was ten o’clock and by his watch it was five minutes till ten. He could go back to his car and wait, or he could stand there as the redhead bolted down the stairs and opened the door.

“Earth laughs in flowers.”

Ed Waldo Emerson

3

The ad was waiting on the fax machine when Celia poured her first cup of coffee. Maybe no one would respond to the ad. She wasn’t ready to be responsible for another person. She would figure it out somehow. Maybe her father could make small deliveries near his house; she could use her lunch hour and after work to deliver some. It would work out, she just knew it.

There was no need for Megan to send her a proof of the ad. There wasn’t much to it, so Celia decided to leave it on the fax.

“Good morning, Boy,” she hollered out to Charlie as he bounced around trying to catch a squirrel.

She embraced the silence of her life. Until recently her life had been a constant roller coaster in Cincinnati. Depositions, emails, meetings, late dinners then driving an hour and a half on weekends to take care of a sick mother.

“Cee is taking a leave of absence.” Her mother would say to her friends. “Just helping out until I can get back on my feet.”

Of course everyone knew her mother’s cancer had spread to her liver and it was only a matter of time. “Leave of absence” was really a nice way of saying her daughter was spending her last days with her.

Driving back and forth caused Celia to get lost in her childhood dream of owning her own florist. A dream she could never reveal until her mother’s death, it was one her mother had not shared. Celia had fulfilled her mother’s dream and with her mother’s passing Celia realized it was now her turn.

She enjoyed her life, embracing her dream. She’d get up by an internal clock, sip her coffee while watching the morning news—giving her time to wake up. Not the constant on the go big city lawyer she once was.

Charlie barked causing her to glance out the window. Her first customer was knocking before she even walked down stairs.

Six foot four businessman, khaki pants, brown loafers, white tee underneath a nicely pressed cardigan. Rolling her eyes, she knew his type. He was a yuppie, his straight floppy brown hair laying just about the brow, and aviator sunglasses. Even the last button on his cardigan was left unsnapped in an undone, preppy kind of way.

“Good morning.” Celia opened the door and turned around the sign on the door.

Roses
, she thought. He was going to get roses.
She
hated roses.
They
always pick roses.