Page 157 of Down Bad

I smile. “I hope things improved for her at school with the … um … mean girl situation.”

“Oh, they have. I had a word. Since her … parents … weren’t so effective. Sometimes, you’ve gotta send in the gay uncle to do the straight couple’s job.” We both chuckle. “No one’s going to trouble my little niece again. She’s getting along far better now. Actually, that’s why I’m here.” He nods at me. “I’m throwing her a little no-occasion-needed slumber party, inviting all her friends, and … I’ll be needing some more of those fairy flowers. As in … a lot more.”

“That’s so sweet! She’ll love that. Wait. How old is she again?”

“Seven.”

“Oh, no.”

He lifts his eyebrows. “Oh, no?”

“You said seven. Now I have ideas.”

He smiles. “Alright, let’s hear them.”

I don’t wait. “Okay, so we can make bouquets out of waxflower, maybe to give to each of her guests when they arrive …”

“Love it.”

“Waxflower is actually quite inexpensive and more often used as filler, so we’ll need to make it the star of the show. You said she calls them fairy flowers, so … I could dress up the bouquets with iridescent butterflies, magical sprigs, unicorn ribbon …”

“She’ll die.”

“I can add lush greenery to them, too, make each bouquet fit for a fairy princess. One special bouquet fit for a fairy queen,” I add with a wag of my finger, “because we want your niece to feel like the star. Does the party have a theme yet?”

“Should it?” he asks, sounding amused.

“Could it be fairies? Then I can make floral centerpieces for your snack tables with pretty woodland arrangements, waxflower winding through greenery, tasteful fairy décor tucked in them—not plastic junk everywhere, of course, but little wings, miniature doors, mushrooms, tiny lights … Oh, wow, can you just picture all of that? How it’ll make the whole table just … sparkle?” I ask, eyes lighting up.

I didn’t notice the huge grin that’s spread over his face. “I’m starting to.”

I smile back. “Great! ‘Cause these centerpieces—just spitballing here—can look like a lush, overgrown fairy garden. All the girls will crowd around it looking for the fairies. Making up stories. Eyes full of wonder. Wouldn’t that be so precious? And since they’ll all be sad when the party’s over, we could have individual ‘fairy flower’ posies for each little girl to take home. Who wouldn’t want to take a piece of the fairy world with them? Even their parents will be charmed. It’ll be a party to talk about at school the next day!”

“Do it.”

I come out of fairyland at once, eyes snapping to him, hearing his dropped tone of voice. “Do … what?”

“All of it. Everything you just said.”

“Oh.” I blink. “I … I just figured you might want to … pick and choose, or …” I let out a laugh of disbelief. “I didn’t mean to throw all of this on you. I was … I was just brainstorming.”

“Then I’m buying your brainstorm.”

I stare at him.

He reaches into the lapel of his jacket and pulls out a business card, then daintily hands it to me. “I think I’ll start employing you for other parties I may host. I like your imaginativeness. Comes in short supply out in Brookfield. You’d be surprised. If you know me at all, I do love a good party, and I host an abundance.”

I stare at his face on the business card.

His number and contact information.

“And I do expect you’ll charge me what a fairy party’s worth,” he adds. “No deals or friendly discounts. Believe it or not … some of us out in Brookfield don’t cheapskate our contractors.”

I meet his eyes.

Speechless.

Was that a jab at Mr. Bellamy?