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A familiar ache settled over me as I surveyed my handiwork. I loved my job. I loved putting together the various arrangements for couples on their anniversaries. I loved creating boutonnieres and corsages for our local high school’s prom. And I loved everything that came with wedding orders, from the bouquets to the decor options to the centerpieces.
Our shop needed to survive this rough patch. It had to. I couldn’t bear the thought of doing something else.
Or, worse, applying at one of the chain shops that contributed to us losing so much business with their deep discounts and name recognition.
“What’s wrong?” Thatcher asked, bumping my arm.
I shook my head. “Nothing, why?”
“You got this little line, here,” he said, holding a finger between his own brows as he frowned.
“I’m just old. It’s a wrinkle.”
He narrowed his eyes. “It’s gone now, so I think not.”
“Fine. I was thinking about our business. Honestly, we’re having a hard time right now.”
“You are?”
“Yes. It used to be that we were the only flower shop in town. Back when I was growing up, anyway. But lately, more and more chain stores are opening up in the area, and we’re having a hard time competing with their pricing. Well, that, and just the simple economics of losing our monopoly on the market.”
He pursed his lips. “Did you go to business school?”
“Me? No. I went to work for my parents full-time as soon as I graduated high school. I hope to take over for them someday, but it’ll be with my knowledge of having grown up there, not a degree.”
“Once again, impressive.” He took a swig from his beer. “I wonder if any of these guests have a wedding coming up. Maybe you should mingle a little and try to get their business.”
I grinned. “As great as that sounds, I don’t think it would be appropriate. But hopefully, they’ll ask the bride where her flowers are from.”
“Hold my beer,” he said, handing me the bottle with a quick lift of his lips.
Then he walked away, leaving me standing there looking like a lush with a drink in each hand.
What was hedoing?
I tracked his movements as he weaved through the crowd, coming up next to his mom and saying something in her ear. When he pulled back, she smiled and nodded, and he seemed to be thanking her.
Then he strode back over, calm as could be, and plucked his beer out of my hand. “There.”
“What?”
“I told my mom to spread the word.”
I let out a breathy laugh. “What do you mean,spread the word?”
“Trust me, she’s great at this kind of thing. By the end of the night, she’ll have everyone here lining up to buy flowers from Bluffton Blooms.”
I turned to him slowly, my mouth dropping open. “Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
For the rest of the cocktail hour, while the bride and groom had photos taken with their bridal party, Thatcher and I stood off to the side of the party and people-watched. Since he was apparently not one to mingle and socialize, I could tell he was enjoying it. We made up stories for many of the guests, coming up with their family backgrounds, marital statuses, and deepest secrets.
By the time the reception officially began, ninety percent of the guests I didn’t already know had new identities, assigned by us. It was silly, but it was fun. There was something invigorating about the way we could just stand back and let the party go on around us, almost like we were invisible.
Like it was just the two of us, on some other plane of existence, untouchable.
All of the stress in my work life vanished, replaced by the carefree banter we exchanged. So, despite how hungry I was since I hadn’t had time to eat all day, I was almost disappointed when it was time for us to take our seats and eat.
