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Blinking several times, a cold chill drifted down my spine as I tried to let the revelation go, finally absorbing what she was talking about.
I was shocked at the response to the hundreds of invitations I’d sent out, although the author I’d convinced to hold a book a signing in my little store had recently hit theNew York TimesBestseller List as well asUSA Today. I had no idea how I’d finagled the event, except I’d been tenacious on the phone with the woman’s agent, highlighting all the incredible reasons her client should consider my fashionable bistro for an event.
“Did the distributor deliver the last order of wines?” I asked, trying to keep my composure. I’d been forced to call in favors, using both Clarice and Dierdre as temporary help, every employee I had on duty as well. And still, I had no idea how I would satisfy the customer needs.
“Yes, right on time. Stop worrying so much. Seriously. This is the highlight of the year. Raleigh will never be the same.”
For me, maybe the highlight of the decade.
As I moved into my office to double check I’d completed my tasks, I noticed a dozen roses sitting in a vase on my desk. Stiffening, it took me a few seconds to inch closer, staring at them as if I expected firecrackers or maybe a bomb to explode. Then I laughed to myself as I checked for a card. My mother had hinted she was sending something special as congratulations for such a monumental event, as she’d called it. Now she believed in me. Go figure. After breathing in their incredible scent, I slid my fingers past the stems. There was no card. Hmmm…
“Ouch,” I said as I removed my hand, grimacing at the drops of blood on my finger. The roses had thorns. What florist allowed the thorns to remain? I grabbed a napkin, wrapping my finger as I shook my head. At least they were gorgeous.
They were also the most fragrant roses I’d ever encountered, their scent spilling into the room, the fragrance enchanting. They managed to brighten my mood. Today was a day for celebration after all my hard work. Leaning over, I took a deep whiff, the petals tickling my nose. I ran my finger across the surface, tingling from the velvety feel.
Then I glanced at my long to-do list, satisfied everything was in order. I caught Brittany’s arm as I returned to the main room.
“Were you here when the flowers arrived?”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot to tell you about them,” she answered. “What did you do to your finger?”
“Watch out. They have thorns. Was there a card?”
Now she looked downright sheepish. “I might have accidentally, not on purpose thrown it away. It wasn’t in a holder and fell on the floor. Ugh. I’m sorry. Do you want me to dig through the trash?”
Laughing, I shook my head. “Not necessary. It would have been a flowery statement from my mother. I’ve memorized all her comments.” I threw the flowers another glance, my body stiffening as I shifted my gaze from thorn to thorn. How odd.
I spent the next ten minutes ensuring the famous author had everything she needed, including a glass of her favorite wine. Then I milled through the crowd, thanking as many people as I could. At least I had an uncanny ability to remember names after hearing them only one time. From what I could tell, sales were booming, cases of wine being sold when that rarely happened. Even books that had been on the shelf for over a year were being sold.
Finally, I was able to smile. This was going to be an epic weekend. The weather was fantastic, warm for a Saturday in mid-October, which allowed me to keep the patio open as well. I moved behind the counter, determined to indulge in a glass of wine myself. In three hours, this would all be over. Then I’d count the profits.
“You outdid yourself,” Clarice said as she leaned over the cheese counter, giving me a mischievous look.
“Uh-huh. I know you. What’s up your sleeve?”
“Pour me a glass of wine and I might tell you.”
“You’re a bad girl, Clarice. Sinful.”
“I know,” she mused. “My soul will burn in hell.”
Dierdre appeared as if on cue, wearing the same expression I’d seen on Clarice. “You know. This is a perfect place to find the right man.”
The right man. The dark stranger from the restaurant had made an appearance twice in the bistro. The second time, I’d accosted him, telling him in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t welcome. He’d acted as if I was out of my mind, calling me several ugly names before storming out. I had been looney tunes for talking to the asshole on the phone for weeks, allowing myself to get worked up. Enticed. No more bullshit. That had become my motto as of late. At least the man had stayed away, which had provided a sense of comfort. Whatever his intentions had been, he’d never attempted to track down my new number. Thank God for small favors.
“Nope. Not gonna happen,” I insisted, pouring two more glasses of wine and pushing them toward the girls.
“You need to get laid,” Clarice said as she plopped her hand on her hip.
“Why not a little louder so the entire bistro can hear you?”
“I’m serious, Sierra. You haven’t touched a man in four years.”
“What about all the dates I went on?”
She rolled her eyes. “Please. Correct me if I’m wrong but they were all first dates and if you allowed even one of them to touch, my guess is the poor guy had a black eye to show for it the next day.”
I grabbed a towel, tossing it in her direction. “Very funny.”
