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Unless it’s drugs? Oh, God, what if I go in here looking to steal a flower only to get caught up in a drug ring hothouse?
I shake my head. This is not an episode of Law & Order.
“Cover me,” I hiss to Janey.
“What?” she says too loudly, and I slap my hand over her mouth.
A tree rustles, and we duck down behind the greenhouse. I freeze, looking left and right while keeping my head perfectly still and hoping the whites of my eyes don’t give our position away. The lady leaving the greenhouse doesn’t notice us as she walks right past our hideout to head back toward the resort.
“Almost busted!” I whisper.
“Abs, you’re losing it,” Janey warns. “Why don’t we use the flowers in the cooler for the photo shoot today? Might as well get something good out of them before they die.”
“I am not using half-dead, wilted flowers on a photo shoot for Claire Johnson’s wedding,” I whisper-yell as if that should be perfectly obvious. “Come on.”
I might be truly losing it a little, but Janey comes with me. Ride or die, she’s down for whatever I need.
We slip into the greenhouse, letting the door close quietly behind us.
“It’s beautiful,” I gasp. The greenhouse is a labor of love, full of plants and flowers of every kind, from tiny buds to full-grown examples. I could spend hours in here examining each and every one. But I don’t have time for that. “Spread out. Find something we can use.”
Janey and I work through the space with no rhyme or reason, but she whistles. I glare at her, a finger pressed to my lips. She glares right back and mouths, “I sound like a bird.”
Oh. That was actually really smart. I shoot a look of apology, and she holds up her hands at the flowers beside her in a ta-da motion.
They’re perfect! Birds of paradise, vibrant orange and blue, and exactly what I need to represent an island feel. I use the clippers to trim a few and then mouth, “Run for it!”
Janey and I sneak out, keeping watch for the lady of the greenhouse, but we make it back without incident. With moments to spare, we grab a clear vase and I arrange the flowers quickly and carefully so I don’t damage their delicate blooms.
“What do you think?” I ask Janey. “Is it too simple?”
She walks around it to look from different angles. “No, it’s perfect. The simplicity is what makes the shape and color shine.”
“Let’s go,” I say, grabbing the vase and scurrying as fast as I can to make it to the luncheon on time.
I walk into the private dining room where Meredith directed me to bring the arrangement. “May I?” I ask the photographer.
“Oh!” she exclaims delightedly. “It’s beautiful! Definitely speaks to an island love story. Set them on the table. Make any adjustments you’d like so they're angled toward the camera.” She points to the tripod with a large camera attached.
Meredith approaches the photographer and they begin talking. Meredith’s lips are pressed together in a frown, her nose crinkled as if she’s smelled a ripe fart. She’s unimpressed with my arrangement. That much is obvious.
“You may go, Miss Andrews. The flowers are simple, to say the least. I do hope the luncheon centerpieces will be more to standards, not a whacked off flower in a vase.”
Grr. Don’t kill her.
Maybe kill her just a little bit.
For both of our protection, I spin in place to leave, but Claire passes me on her way in for the shoot. She’s wearing a white dress, more formal than I would’ve expected, but she looks stunning.
I get a twisted satisfaction when I overhear Claire behind me as she sees the set, “Everything is so gorgeous! Gah, let me just do a few selfies and do a live feed before we get started with the actual shoot, ’kay?”
Such is the life of a celebrity. I can’t fault her, though. She seems to really care about her followers and enjoy talking with them. She’s the real deal.
“Hey, Abi!” Claire calls after me.
Thinking I’m about to get slammed for the arrangement, I turn back slowly. “Yes?”
“Do you have any more of these?” She points to the birds of paradise. “I’d love to put one in my hair for a few shots, but I wouldn’t dream of messing with your work.”
“I do have a few extra. Let me go grab them. I’ll be right back,” I promise with a no-big-deal smile.
Uh, looks like Janey and I have another Mission Impossible stunt to pull off.Back by the cooler, the maintenance man is standing with another man. Based on his khaki, island-weight suit, this must be the manager. Judging by his pinched face, he’s not any happier to be dealing with me than I am with him.
“Miss Andrews, I’m told you requested my presence.”
