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The bell tinkles again, and the one person I don’t want to see walks in. Meredith Wildeman. She’s got on another of her black suits with heels, her silvery hair frozen in place and her eyes hard.
“Miss Andrews, the flower girl. Believe me, I tried to talk Sadie out of using your services. There are simply so many more talented florists in the area.” She sits down, looking snooty as ever. “Well, show us what you’ve got,” Meredith demands.
The entire mood of this appointment just changed with her entrance. Sadie is now sitting straight-backed with her lips pressed together like we were busted misbehaving by the school principal.
I blink, not at Meredith’s arrogance but that she’s so bold with it. I let wheels churn and cogs turn in my head, trying to channel Dad because what I really want to do is tell Meredith to get the fuck out of my shop and take that high horse she rode in on with her.
Finally, it’s Mom’s practiced calm voice that saves me, with a little Ice Queen Courtney thrown in for good measure. Giving people enough rope to hang themselves is sometimes prudent, though taking the high road is a trait I’m still learning.
Completely ignoring Meredith, I turn to Sadie. “It has been so good catching up with you, and I’ll tell Courtney you said hello. Unfortunately, while I’m happy to work with any vendors you might hire, there is one I’m not comfortable contracting with on any event, and that’s Ms. Wildeman. I’m sure she’ll make your wedding absolutely lovely, and I can recommend another floral designer who will do an amazing job if you’d like.”
I pause, letting what I said sink in. Lorenzo told me that Meredith threatened to blackball me with her clients, and by the sound of things, she’s definitely trying. The truth is, I can do the same and choose not to work with her. I’m an in-demand floral designer with a full calendar of clients. I don’t need Meredith Wildeman’s clients.
I have never traded on the weight of my last name, and in this, I don’t need to. I have the power and draw of SweetPea Boutique, and that’s enough.
“Hmmph, very well. We’ll be happy to get someone else to do the flowers then.” Meredith’s smile is predatory, victorious at having triumphed over me. To Sadie, Meredith softens. “I did warn you, dear, but there are so many much more talented florists. Let’s go, Sadie.”
Meredith stands but Sadie doesn’t move.
“Uh, no. I want Abi to do my flowers. It’s what I’ve wanted ever since I saw Claire Johnson’s bouquet. It’s what everyone wants.” Sadie looks confused as hell at how her fun flower selection appointment has gone so awry.
I sit back quietly. Sadie seems nice, but this is her wedding. I’ll do the bouquet or not, but either way, I’m not working with Meredith.
“Yes, Claire’s bouquet was lovely, I suppose. And another designer can certainly recreate it if you’d like.”
When that doesn’t sway Sadie, Meredith decides to play hardball. “We have a contract, dear. Perhaps we should follow up with your mother to see about this.” Meredith plays the mom card, and I swear there is steam coming out of Sadie’s ears.
“No need. It’s my name on the contract, and if I recall, there’s a buyout option. Here.” Sadie pulls out her checkbook, writes a check with three zeroes, signs it her damn self, and hands it to Meredith. “Your services are no longer needed, I’m afraid. I’ll be sure to tell my friends.”
Meredith is shocked. So much so that even her eyebrows lift and her forehead wrinkles. “Well . . . I . . . good day, then.”
She might be wrong as hell with her little power play, but I’d be willing to bet she cashes that check at the bank as soon as she leaves.
She strides for the door, looking back once, and our eyes meet.
Game. Set. Match. Bitch.
And I did it with grace, boundaries, and integrity I can be proud of. No bail money or alibi needed.
I don’t know what Meredith has against me, because it’s obviously me and not flowers in general. But the truth is, it doesn’t matter. She made me out to be something in her head, and nothing I did or didn’t do was ever going to change that. It’s not that I’m taking my ball and huffily going home but rather that there are infinite playgrounds and we can just . . . not play together.
Though if given the chance, I’d throw a mean dodgeball at her without a second thought.
“Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on your way out.”
Sadie laughs as Meredith pushes the door open a little too hard.
Shit, that was out loud, and I was doing so well! I guess you can take the girl out of the crazy but not the crazy out of the girl.
