Seymour almost laughed.
No shit.
The young man didn’t respond to her, instead greeting Seymour with a wave. “Hi. Is there something I can help you with? Looking for anything in particular?”
“Uh, yes,” Seymour replied. “I’m new in town. Well, not technically new. I used to live here before, but then we moved.” He shook his head. “I found out my father passed away?—”
“Aw, poor thing!” the woman whispered loudly.
“Never met him. Don’t have one single memory of him.” Seymour sagged. “Still kinda hurts… Actually hurts a lot, bein’ here to mourn somebody I never knew. Not really sure how I’m supposed to feel. He don’t even have a tombstone or nothin’ yet. Just a little plastic sign.” He shook his head. “Sorry, that all just came out. Been a weird day. I gotta go to the readin’ of his will, and someone kinda got the idea in my head to leave him some flowers.”
The young man smiled gently. “Hey, it’s okay. My condolences. But don’t worry. I’m here to help.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.” Seymour offered his hand out. “Seymour Madison.”
“Neil Ricci.”
“Nice to meet you, Neil.” Seymour turned to offer his hand to the woman, but she had stepped back out of his reach. He gave her a polite smile, but she was looking at Neil and didn’t seem to notice.
“It’s nice to meet you too, Seymour.” Neil gestured to several of the arrangements on the shelves. “Traditional flowers for mourning are lilies, carnations, gladioli, daffodils, and a whole bunch of others. Those are the big ones.”
“And those are?” Seymour stared at the flowers.
“Here.” Neil got up and walked around the counter, pointing as he spoke. “These are carnations. These over here are gladioli. These yellow guys are daffodils. And the potted one over there is a lily.
“Lilies are for innocence and remembrance, sympathy. White carnations are supposed to symbolize innocence. Pink ones are for, well, more remembrance. Uh, gladioli are good forsomeone who had good character and you want to uplift the family.”
Seymour shrugged. “Well, I don’t rightly know what kind of character he had. And the other stuff doesn’t sound right. Pretty though.”
“Right. Uh. Maybe the daffodils then? They’re a symbol of renewal and hope.”
Seymour eyed the yellow flowers, taking in their bright hue.
He remembered what Sariel had said about Leos and warm colors.
“Yeah.” Seymour nodded. “I think those will do just fine.”
“So!” Neil walked toward the wall beside the counter. “What are you thinking? A wreath? Maybe a standing piece?”
“I guess, uh…” Seymour had no idea.
He’d gotten roses for his mother, but he only remembered red and more red.
“A wreath would be lovely,” the woman whispered. “Especially if there’s no headstone yet.”
Neil gave a small nod of his head. “How about a wreath? Especially since there’s no headstone.”
Seymour glanced between them. “Uh, sure.”
Neil patted the wall and opened a door hidden there, revealing what looked to be a walk-in cooler. “Just give me one second and I’ll be right back.”
“Okay, great.” Seymour sighed. “Thank you.”
“No problem! Just a sec.”
The woman returned to her spot behind the counter.
“So.” Seymour hated the silence. “You been workin’ here long?”
