Page 8 of Broken: Taylor

The older woman sighed. “That sounds lovely, but I don’t know if we have time. We need to show you pictures and get an estimate for flowers before heading to a luncheon.”

“I have some ideas,” the bride, who looked to be in her mid-twenties said, holding up a thick binder. “My wedding colors are buttercream and chocolate.”

Why did brides insist on naming their color choices after food? If and when she got remarried, there would be no color theme whatsoever.

Allison steered them to a table with four chairs. “Sounds great, let’s talk.” While they settled and placed magazines and the binder on the surface of the glass table, she poured two cups of lavender chamomile tea.

It was almost comical. Both immediately picked up their cup and took a sip and at the same time slow smiles curved their lips. Yes, as always, chamomile tea was magical.

By the time the women left, both were satisfied with her suggestions. Not only had she urged the bride into a contrasting color, which the mother wanted to add, but also, she’d helped them design a cake around the theme.

Her cell buzzed and she picked it up while waving to a new customer.

“Can you go by Taylor’s and tell him to answer his damn phone?” Luke sounded frustrated. “I tried to ask Leah, but she’s gone to a meeting with her dad.”

“I can go by there this afternoon,” Allison replied, already thinking that perhaps she could get someone else to go.

Luke grunted. “Okay. That’ll work. I need to get some information from him tonight before making some decisions.”

“You guys don’t have a landline?” Allison asked. A lot of people in the area still had landlines.

She could hear Luke ask his brother. “Yeah there is, but they don’t have a phone hooked up to it.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it. He can use your phone if you don’t mind. But I need to talk to him.”

After they ended the call, Allison decided it was best to go sooner than later. She quickly helped the customer with a bouquet so she could go find Taylor. It sounded as if they really did need to talk to Taylor. She grabbed her purse and light jacket.

Allison studied her reflection in the antique mirror she’d hung by the door. It was good to check one’s appearance before leaving.

Not that it mattered how she looked. Allison was pretty sure she could show up dressed in a prison uniform and cornrows without Taylor blinking an eye.

Taylor was not interested in her, or dating anyone as far as she’d heard. He’d stopped by just a few weeks earlier and ordered flowers. It seemed he was still hung up on his ex-wife.