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“That’s right,” Camille said slowly, suspicion splashed across her features.
I grinned. “I’ve seen your picture in her apartment. She talks about you all the time.” Then, realizing I still didn’t make much sense, I explained. “She lives across the hall from me.”
“Oh! Ooooh,” Camille finally drew out before pointing at me. “You must be Kaitlynn, then. She talks about you all the time to me.”
“Does she?” Aww. If Mabel were there right then, I’d have given her a great big hug. “That’s so nice. I love her to pieces. She’s such a spitfire.”
Camille laughed. “Oh yeah. That’s putting it mildly.” We shared a grin before she shook her head. “You know, I can’t believe we’ve never met before.”
“I know. You and Mabel should definitely come over for dinner some evening. We’ll have her tell us all her tales about the days she was a dancer in Vegas.”
“Oh my God!” Camille laughed. “She told you about that too, huh? My dad swears it’s not true, but I don’t know. I kind of think it might be. I mean, dancing in a nightclub to becoming a school lunch lady and mother of three? It’s totally plausible.”
“Totally,” I agreed, nodding and making us both laugh.
“Wow, sounds like one interesting grandma,” Shaw put in.
“Interesting is another mild word for her,” Camille said before asking, “How much do I owe you?”
Shaw pressed a button on the cash register, maki
ng it clang open. “Fifty-three, forty-eight.”
“Cool.” Camille pulled a credit card from her wallet and cheerfully announced, “Cheaper than most of the purses I buy too.”
As Shaw processed the payment, I admired the vintage Mary Jane flats Camille was sporting. They looked like something that might’ve been designed at JFI. I was about to ask where she’d gotten them when the bell above the entrance rang, admitting another customer.
Curious, I glanced back to find another familiar face. Gabby, a petite woman with dark, shoulder-length hair who lived on the first floor of my building stormed inside, carrying a bouquet of red roses. She narrowed brown eyes at Shaw before marching close enough to pause beside me and slam the flowers onto the countertop.
Leaves and petals exploded everywhere.
Shaw jumped and glanced up, while I shied warily away from her. Even Camille grabbed her new basket off the counter to pull it protectively closer.
Glancing from the bouquet to Gabby’s face, Shaw pointed. “Hey, those are our flowers.”
“I know.” Folding her arms over her chest, Gabby glowered. “I read your store’s label on the ribbon. That’s why I’m here.”
Concern knitted Shaw’s brow. He reached for the bouquet. “Is there a problem with them?”
“No,” she huffed. “They’re absolutely gorgeous. So I want you to stop selling them to the bastard who keeps giving them to me.”
“Oh!” Surprise rounded his mouth before he lowered his eyebrows with sympathy. “I’m sorry. Did you guys not make up this time?”
“Make up?” Gabby shook her head, not understanding. “This time? What the fuck are you talking about? There was no making up, because we’ve never been together.” Jabbing her finger toward the roses, she explained. “These aren’t apology flowers, doofus, they’re a bundle full of I-want-you, guilt-trip flowers from a guy who won’t take no for an answer.”
“Ooh.” Camille whistled as she winced. “That’s bad.”
I had to nod, also cringing in sympathy. “Real bad.”
Gabby glanced toward us, nodding as well, only to blink in surprise as she focused on my face. Her scowl faltered, but she couldn’t quite morph it into a smile. “Kaitlynn. Hey. What’re you doing here?”
“Longingly gazing at all the pretty flowers,” I answered honestly. Then I motioned to the half-mangled bouquet she’d just banged onto the countertop. “Those are some awesome roses.”
“Here.” She grabbed them and thrust them at me. “You want them? They’re yours.”
“Uh.” I scrambled to catch them against my chest before they fell to the floor after she let go of them so fast. “Um, thank you?” I asked more than said, wincing because I wasn’t sure if she really wanted me to take them or not.
“You’re welcome. I certainly don’t want them.” She promptly turned back to Shaw, her angry expression returning.
