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HUNTER
We leavethe car in the parking lot of the Madison Cafe and proceed across town on foot. It must be ninety degrees in the shade, but it doesn’t seem to have any impact on Catherine. Even though she moved away years ago, she remains immune to the oppressive heat.
I slow my pace to avoid becoming a dripping mess and Catherine falls back next to me. “I’m missing the tiny car with the air conditioning,” I joke. I twist, expecting a grin of some sort and notice Catherine’s jaw tighten. Her brow furrows and I know her head is flooded with concern. Why, I don’t know. She’s gotten this way since we left the restaurant and mentioned she wanted to take me somewhere.
She pauses at the corner and presses the walk signal. Rather than add to her concern, I take in the town. We’re back on Market Street, a busy strip with lots of local family-run businesses. It’s the heart of the city and I’m pleased to see that unlike most of the rest of the country, families haven’t abandoned the small businesses for the big box and outlet stores at the malls. I follow Catherine’s sight line when she turns for the third time to her left. Mystery solved.
“We’re going to meet your sister.” I jut my chin toward the Flowers by Stephanie shop across the street mid-block.
She runs a finger through her black hair and steps into the street as the light changes. “Yeah.” She struggles to push out the single syllable.
I understand her concern. Over lunch we covered a lot of our cover story. The how we met, when we started dating and why she hadn’t mentioned my existence to anyone before. My suspicion is that she wants to take our fake relationship out for a test drive with someone who knows her. I’m not sure I would have chosen one this close as an initial exercise, but Catherine isn’t the type to dip a toe in the water when the goal is to get to the deep end.
As we reach the sidewalk in front of the shop, I slip my hand into hers and give it a supportive squeeze. She remains silent and pushes through the door of the shop. A brass bell rings above us, a cute chime that echoes in the scented air.
Catherine releases my hand and steps to the counter where a short blonde woman in her forties is clipping a bouquet of flowers. She lowers the shears to the worktable and looks up.
“Catherine!” the woman screams and races around the counter. She pulls Catherine into a hug. “Adrienne told me you were in town for the wedding.”
I remain back and allow the women to reconnect. The woman is white, dirty blonde hair with a few strands of gray. She wears a plain white t-shirt underneath the denim coverall.
The flower shop is quaint. A long counter filled with vases, cards, and knickknacks adorn the length of the shop. Behind the counter is a massive walk-in climate-controlled cooler filled with flowers and plants of every ilk. In the window behind me are cactus and other indigenous plants that can happily exist in a storefront window in the harsh sunlight that is Arizona.
“Hunter?” I turn with the mention of my name. Catherine has her hand extended toward me and a plastic smile on her face. I stride toward the pair and take Catherine’s hand. “This is my… friend…. Hunter.”
I extend a hand toward Stephanie while pulling Catherine into a side hug, clarifying what type of friend I am. “Pleasure to meet you. Your shop is beautiful.”
Stephanie gives me a weak handshake, her gaze flitting from me to a stiff Catherine before it lowers to my arm wrapped around Catherine’s waist. Her brow pinches and her mouth parts about to speak.
“I can’t wait to see Ava’s bouquet Saturday,” I dive in, hoping to snap Catherine out of her trance. “Catherine has told me about the magic you whip up for weddings.”
A prideful smile rises on her face and her body relaxes. “We certainly try. Hunter, do you live in Indiana too?”
Catherine’s back stiffens and I snicker to signal to her that I’ll answer. “Maybe someday. Believe it or not I’ve just moved here to Mesa for work.”
Stephanie raises a brow. “Mesa? Really? What type of work do you do?”
I press a quick peck to Catherine’s temple hoping to loosen her up. At this rate it looks as if Catherine is more my hostage than my girlfriend. Stephanie’s eyes tighten and she focuses in on Catherine as if looking for an SOS message from Catherine’s non-blinking eyes. “I’m working over at the Legendary, but I do have concerns about my long-term prospects.” Maybe if I shift the focus from us to something else, it will provide the space Catherine needs to relax. I can’t imagine what could be going through her head right now. Her and Stephanie’s relationship is obviously more than owner/customer. Her sister works here and by her mention of Indiana she is well aware of Catherine’s current history, including, most likely, the men she dates or in this case, doesn’t date.
When Stephanie winces, I know I’ve struck pay dirt. Her mind is off of us and onto the Legendary. She knows of its struggle and I’m sure holds an opinion. “What have you heard?” My question not only gives Catherine a reprieve, but it also allows me to collect more information. If Stephanie is anything like the small business owners in Atlanta, they all share stories and love to gossip.
“Well, I’m not saying anything you won’t soon discover, but ever since Mr. Franklin retired the business hasn’t been doing well. He should have turned over the reins to Catherine like he knew he should have. We used to supply flowers for ten to twelve events a week back in the day. We’re lucky to do one or two these days. Frankie doesn’t have a clue how to operate that place. And what makes it worse, he gets an attitude if anyone tells him different. It’s a damn shame.” Stephanie shakes her head filled with a history of frustration and probably pointless conversations.
I’ve only worked with Frankie for a week, and I’ve already given up. I bite my tongue with the six follow-up questions that rest on its tip. “I guess I’ll have to keep my prospects open. You have any openings coming up soon,” I joke.
I’m rewarded with a beaming smile. “Now that Adrienne’s back, we’re all good.” Stephanie turns her attention toward a still quiet Catherine. “When it's my turn to retire, I won’t make the same mistake. This shop is all Adrienne’s if she’ll have it.” She places a hand on Catherine’s shoulder, eliciting a stiff smile. “Let me go get your sister for you now.” She steps around us heading to the swinging doors leading to the rear of the shop. “Pleasure meeting you, Hunter. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
“Pleasure’s’ all mine,” I return as she disappears. I remove my hand from around Catherine’s waist. Her folded arms press to her sides, stiff as an over starched shirt. “Are you okay?” I ask.
“Yeah. Sorry about that, it won’t happen again.” Her voice lacks conviction and I steal a glance toward the empty doorway.
“If you want to put a stop to this, we can right now.”
“No,” she says with a bite in her voice that wasn’t there a moment ago. “I’ll be fine. It’s just silly.”
“If it’s something that can rattle you, it can’t be silly.” I try to decipher her words. “What is it?”
She steps around the counter with a comfort that tells me she’s done this often. She flips open the glass case, which is housing the refrigerated bouquets, her hands going directly to a bunch of green and gold flowers. “Palmer sent me a bouquet like this every week for the first six months after we started dating. Miss Stephanie once told me it was a special arrangement he had commissioned. A combination of my favorite flowers which she had never put together before.”
She pulls the small gold envelope from the bouquet. From where I’m standing, I can see the envelope hasn’t been sealed. She rips out the card, her focus on what I assume is a handwritten note. Another wave of sadness sweeps across her face and it takes everything in me not to rush over to her.
She clears her throat, her voice scratchy with emotion. “To Claire, the brightest flower in the entire garden. Love Palmer.” She stuffs the card back in the envelope and returns it to the bouquet. “He didn’t even have the decency to…" Her voice cracks. “It’s the same god damn inscription,” she mutters.
My blood boils. The more I find out about Palmer, the more I want to put my fist through his chest. I don’t know Catherine’s full history with him, but it looks like he’s never gotten over the breakup. He continues to go out of his way to torture her - ordering a bouquet that once had meaning for her in the flower shop her sister works, knowing she’ll come across it. This petty little man needs to be dealt a lesson.
Catherine steps back around the counter to my side and I wrap her in a hug. This isn’t a fake public hug for Stephanie, this is an I’m sorry he hurt you, I’m here for you hug. The type of hug that screams I’m not going anywhere, and I will protect you hug.
I ignore the squeaking of approaching footsteps and the sound of the swinging door. But there’s no ignoring the high-pitched young squeal. “Hey sis. Who’s this dude hugging up all over you?”
Adrienne.
