“Okay, okay. I get it. I’d get here quick though. The tow truck is on its way. And prepare yourself for the worst.”
“I’ll be there. Don’t let them tow off my sister’s flowers.” I hung up the phone and sprang into action. This was no time to freak out.
"What's the plan?" Eamon asked.
I was already requesting an Uber from my phone. It was only a few minutes after eight o’clock, and the ceremony wasn’t until eleven, but I needed to have the flowers at the venue and looking perfect no later than ten. “You get dressed, find Luke, and think up some reason you and I are going over to the club on our own.” I glanced down at my phone again. “The driver will be here to pick us up in seven minutes. I’ll get us packed up.”
“Don’t you need to take a shower?”
“There’s no time. I'll have to go with dry shampoo and a ton of deodorant. I’ll do my hair and makeup at the club.”
“Do I tell Luke what's happened?”
“No. We don't need to give him or Amy any more reason to be spooked about today. Tell them we had to go meet Fiona. It’s not a lie if we call Rachel from the Uber and tell her to have her dropped off at the country club instead of at the house.”
He nodded and smiled. “You're a good sister.”
“I’ve spent my whole life trying. It had to kick in at some point.”
Lickety split, Eamon and I met the driver and we were on our way to the location Max had sent me. I was wearing my bridesmaid dress with my black Chuck Taylors. Eamon was wearing his tux. My hair, which still sort of smelled like last night’s booze, was pulled back in a ponytail. Everything was already pretty much a disaster, but I decided to be optimistic—things could not get worse.
The accident scene was indeed catastrophic. Vehicle glass scattered over the blacktop, crumpled metal littering the intersection, and cars trying to drive around it all. The van was on its side and a red pickup truck with its front smashed in was a good twenty yards away. But no one was injured, so that was good news. I was going to squeeze every good thing out of today if it killed me.
After a quick talk with the police to make sure I could take our flowers, Eamon and I ventured over to the back of the van. He opened the door, the metal groaning in protest. I crouched down and duck-walked inside. I ignored my impulse to cry when I saw what we were working with—the white boxes holding the bouquets were strewn about, the flowers themselves arranged like someone had been playing pick-up sticks.
“Is it bad?” Eamon called into the van.
“Toast was a pretty good way to put it.”
“Is there anything we can save?”
“The boutonnieres and bouquets are in boxes. Hopefully they’re okay. It's mostly the flowers for the ceremony and reception that went flying.” I sidestepped puddles of water, glad I’d had enough sense to wear sneakers. I knew then that I had to channel my mom, something I quite frankly had never done. Not once. But if she were here, she would've gone to work. There was a wedding happening today and a bride in need of flowers. There was nothing to be done except to make it happen.
A stack of three gray plastic tubs sat off to one side. I’d have to borrow those and use them to carry the flowers. Most of the vases were broken, but a few weren’t, and I was pretty sure they’d have some at the club. Luckily, a spool of the silver satin ribbon we’d chosen was sitting among the debris, still shrink-wrapped. “I’ll grab everything I can and we'll figure it out when we get there.” I started handing Eamon the white boxes and when that was done, I picked through the flowers and gently placed them in the tubs. Max, the delivery guy, had finished talking to the police and was still waiting for a tow truck, so he helped. Fifteen minutes later, Eamon and I were back on our way.
We pulled up in front of the country club, and I flagged down some of the catering folks to help us get the flowers inside and help find me a workspace. We set up a banquet table in a back hall by the kitchen. We found a few pair of scissors, and some extra plain glass vases for the centerpieces. It was going to have to do.
Eamon's phone beeped with a text. “The car is dropping off Fiona. I'll be back in a minute.”
I decided to start with the bouquets and although it was a terrifying prospect, I knew that Amy’s should be first. If anything needed to be perfect, it was that. My pulse was pounding in my throat as I lifted the flap of the box, which was crushed on one corner and wet on the others.Please be okay. Please be okay.I opened it and could hardly believe what I was looking at. It looked perfect. Absolutely perfect.
“No. How is that possible?” I muttered to myself, quickly opening the bridesmaids’ boxes to see if I would actually be that lucky.
I wasn’t.
Those bouquets all had at least one snapped stem. Some had several. But I took the state of Amy’s as a good omen and since there were no extra flowers, I started removing those that were broken.
I hadn't realized just how much I was running on adrenaline until I looked up and my heart came to a stop. Eamon and Fiona were walking toward me, both all smiles, holding hands. Fiona was wearing a lovely deep purple dress with an empire waist and full skirt, along with black Mary Janes. I hadn't taken the time earlier to fully appreciate how ridiculously handsome Eamon was in his dark gray tux. The two of them stole my breath away.
Fiona let go of her dad’s hand and ran up to me to give me a hug. “I’ve missed you,” she said.
My heart melted right then and there. “I’ve missed you, too. You look beautiful in your purple dress.” I smoothed back her hair with my hand and kissed the top of her head. How I loved this child. “Did you see how handsome Daddy looks today?”
“I did. It even looks like he combed his hair.”
“I clean up pretty well.” Eamon's off-kilter grin said that he knew that he was doing far better than pretty well.
Fiona eyed the array of empty vases and odd collection of flowers on the table. “What happened?”
