After I hearthe front door click shut, I flop face-first onto my bed, groaning into my pillow. I allow myself three minutes to wallow and then pop up and grab my purse.
Now, I’m pacing Desiree’s living room, a pizza box on the coffee table beside the sofa. Unlike the one I offered Griffin, this one is from a real pizzeria.
“Thirty days! How will I stand the guy that long?”
Sir Lancelot, Desiree’s rotund cat, has been assessing me since I walked inside. He senses there’s something different about me. I’ve been Griffin-ized.
Desiree downs the dregs of her pinot. Pizza and pinot noir are a better combo than it sounds, though I’m not sure my gastroenterologist would agree.
“He didn’t seem that bad,”she says.
I pause my pacing in front of her, gesticulating. “He’s going to be at the flower shop every day, supervising, and crunching numbers. And he doesn’t even believe we’ll succeed. And he doesn’t believe in lasting love!”
I know I sound like a rapid-fire lunatic but I can’t help it. I’m worked up. Big time.
“If you don’t stop your crazy arms, you’re going to go airborne.”
I drop my arms and take a breather, suddenly depleted.
Desiree’s face is filled with concern. “I’ve never seen you like this. This dude’s gotten under your skin.”
I nod, regrouping, searching desperately for my happy place. “Maybe it won’t be so bad. He is here to fulfill his aunt’s wishes.” I sit. “Do you think there’s more to him than meets the eye?”
Desiree shrugs. “That’s often the case with people. But even if he’s horrible, just be your usual self and you’ll charm the pants off him.”
“What if he’s immune?”
“Don’t be so modest. No one is immune to your charms, Ruby.”
As much as I love Desiree, I’m familiar with Griffin’s type. Bottom line above all else. I’m known as the ultimate optimist but I’ve lived enough life to have learned that reality is hard to ignore. “I’m going to drown him in sunshine,” I declare.
Desiree lifts her glass. “That’s my girl!”
I grab a slice of pizza, fully aware that if I don’t give it my allandplay nice with the city guy, I’ll be out of a job just in time for Valentine’s Day.
Chapter Fifteen
Griffin
I am sittingin the back of the shop, digging through the mess otherwise known as Ruby’s desk. Old catalogues and random papers are mixed with floral wire and several used paper cups. Indecipherable handwritten Post-its stick to the wall and receipts are tucked into a junk drawer. My orderly soul is twitching. Whatever organization Ruby claims existed when Clara was here, it’s ancient history. I’ve been through some of the computer records. In the months before she passed, there were several times she injected her personal funds to carry the store’s deficit. Bad, bad, bad.
Ruby is a few feet away, humming along to some pop song about sunshine while I am knee deep in invoices that do not add up.
If optimism was currency, Ruby would be a billionaire.Unfortunately, what this flower shop needed was a business plan, not unwarranted enthusiasm.
“I have a great idea,” Ruby says, twirling white flowers into a bridal crown. “We could do a Valentine’s special. Buy one, get one.”
I stare at her, incredulous. “Do you have any idea what our margins are on those roses?”
She blinks. “Negative joy?”
“That is not a number.”
“Well, maybe it should be.” She grins, unbothered, and goes back to fluffing a bouquet.
Somehow, her cheerfulness is more exhausting than the cluttered desk. I mutter something about needing coffee and she chirps, “Get me a muffin while you are at it, partner.”
Partner. Right. This is going to be a long week.
