“Your signature drink is going to be a blueberry gin and tonic, right?”
“And blueberry lemonade for the non-drinkers,” Olivia adds, shoveling a forkful of pasta into her mouth.
“Lori makes a blueberry lavender jam that’s absolutely to die for,” I tell them. Lori, who owns the lavender farm I’ve been living on for the last few years, makes all kinds of lavender-infused products: soaps and lotions, jams and jellies, teas, potpourri. She sells them at the farmers market in the summer and at several of the shops in town.
Now that I’m thinking of it, I should really see if I can get some stock to sell at The Floral Chic.
“Hmm,” Olivia says around a mouthful of pasta. “That could work.”
“Ooh, what about including a cute little drink recipe with it?” Grace suggests. “I bet the jam would be delish in a cocktail.”
“Maybe you could even have some at the bar for people to mix in with the gin and tonic or lemonade,” I suggest. I cut off a piece of chicken and dredge it through the creamy sauce before popping it into my mouth. I nearly groan at the taste. I’m not the world’s best cook, but I have a solid rotation of meals I can make well, and this is one of them.
“Okay, I’m liking this idea,” Olivia says, pushing her plate away to grab her binder again. She flips through to the section for favors and begins jotting down some notes. “What about the labels? The winery had a contact they were going to use for the custom labels. I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”
“Georgia has a friend who just designed some greeting cards for me to sell at the shop, and she mocked up some business cards forme. Hang on, let me find them.” I slide out of the bench and grab my purse from where it hangs by the front door. I rifle through it, looking for the four business cards I tucked away in a side pocket. I find them and bring them back to the table for Olivia. “Her calligraphy work is incredible, but she’s great at drawing and design, too.”
Olivia examines each of the cards and I can tell by the way her eyes light up that she’s in.
“These are beautiful,” she says, handing them across the table to Grace, who has finally swapped out her wine for some actual dinner.
“Love these,” she says immediately, examining the floral pattern on my favorite one. The detail on the tiny petals is stunning. “If she can design something and get us a digital file, I bet we can find somewhere in Portland to print the labels.”
Olivia nods along, her pen scratching furiously across the paper. “Elsie, can you get me contact info for Georgia’s friend?”
“Absolutely.” I grab my phone and scroll through my contacts until I find her number, then read it off to Olivia. “I’ll send her a text to let her know you’ll be reaching out.”
“And I’ll stop by Lori’s tomorrow and see if I can put in an order for her jam,” Olivia says, finally closing the binder and setting it on the bench on the other side of her. “We’re expecting about 125 guests, so maybe I’ll order 150 to have some extra, just in case.”
“Perfect,” Grace agrees. She nibbles on the end of an asparagus spear and grins. “I can’t believe you’re about to be a wholewife.”
“Same,” Olivia says, grinning right back at her. “I can’t wait.”
I grab my glass of rosé and take a sip, relieved to find it’s one that I like. With the favors fiasco behind us, we’re able to enjoy the rest of our dinner while we chat about the few remaining details we have yet to hash out, like what time the photographer should arrive to get photos of us getting ready, what songs should be on the DJ’s “do notplay list” and who’s going to be responsible for keeping track of the marriage certificate for signing after the ceremony.
We finish dinner and move on to dessert, pints of gelato from the grocery store Noah used to work at that he’s gotten me hooked on. The pistachio and raspberry lemon are my favorites.
“This is fucking divine,” Grace moans around a spoonful of dark chocolate. She licks every drop from the spoon before digging back in. “I can’t believe I’ve lived my whole life without knowing this existed, just fifteen minutes away.”
“Thank you, Noah.” Olivia raises her pint of mango gelato in salute. “Speaking of my second favorite florist – do you know that Ty has a massive, raging crush on him?”
“Awww,” Grace coos.
“I was there when they met and I swear, the man had hearts in his eyes,” I tell my friends. Just thinking back to that day makes me smile. “I think he gave me about five minutes after closing before he called to debrief and find out everything he could about Noah. When I confirmed that he’s bisexual, I believe Ty’s exact words were, ‘Thank fucking god.’”
I knew Noah wouldn’t mind, because he’s never been anything but open about his sexuality. Besides, he had been fishing for information about Ty the whole rest of that afternoon, thinking he was being subtle about it.
I also told Ty about the one date Noah and I went on, for full disclosure. “I knew you had good taste,” Ty had said proudly.
“Are we getting any vibes from Noah?” Grace asks. “Do we think there could be something there?”
“Definitely,” I nod. “I can’t decide who will be the first one to make a move, though.”
“Ty all day,” Olivia says. “The man knows what he wants and goes for it.”
“He does – but heblushedwhen he met Noah. I think he’s in uncharted waters here.”
“Heblushed?” Grace gasps. “Oh, the man is down bad.”
