“What? She was nice! Did you want me to lie to her? Doom her to heartache and probably bankruptcy? And you call yourself a people person?”
They both turned as the woman backed out of a parking space in front of the shop, pulling out of the shared lot a moment later, brake light flaring. He followed the shape of her car as it disappeared into the world beyond his windows, gone forever.
“Ranar, she wasflirtingwith you. At least, she was trying to. She probably would’ve had more luck with this spool of ribbon.”
Ranar rolled his eyes, snorting. Grace was a dreamy romantic who spent too much time with equally optimistic newlyweds, their rose-colored glasses too secure for them to see the sharpedges of the world beyond the fifteen-minute ceremony of their nuptials.And this is why the divorce rate is so high.
“Seriously, are your eyes okay?” She glared. “Did you not notice the way she was looking at you? The way she was laughing? Fucking stars, she wastwirling her hair. I don’t think she could have been any more obvious without lifting her shirt and asking if you liked her boobies and maybe wanted to take a squeeze.”
“Gracie, you are out of your mind. That mothman has broken you. The buzzing of his wings is probably a decibel that’s dangerous for humans. I hope the sex is good, because it’s scrambled your frontal cortex.”
“How?” Grace turned away in disgust, moaning out the question to the empty shop. “How can you bethisstupid? How can I be friends with such a stupid snake? Have you ever even been on a date, be honest with me. How is it that you have a child?”
“Because that was an arranged marriage,” he added helpfully, ducking easily when she flung the spool of ribbon at his head, catching it as it rolled across the counter.
“Yeah, and now I understand why it didn’t work out.”
Ranar nearly choked on his laughter as he turned away from the counter, critically eyeing the coolers where the woman had stood just a few minutes earlier. It was a wonder she was able to put anything together at all. Pickings were slim, and the meager order arriving that afternoon likely wouldn’t bolster the display much.
“She was pretty.” The words were out before he was able to control his tongue, not especially wanting to engage in this particular conversation with Grace, not wanting to have this conversation at all. His friend was well-meaning, but she was a littletookeen to see him coupled, desperate to force him into meeting her and her mothman scientist boyfriend for an eveningof couples drudgery, he assumed. There was no need to give her any encouragement, but Grace had already turned at his words, flinging her arms open. “I mean, if shehadlifted her shirt, I absolutely would have taken the offered squeeze.”
“She was! And she’s brand-new in town. At least, she will be soon. You can get to her first!”
“I’m pretty sure she’d find that offensive, boobie squeeze or not. She’s a person, Grace. Not a collectible. Besides, I don’t have time for a relationship right now. As it is, I have like twelve orders in the queue for this afternoon.”
Grace rolled her eyes. “Don’t even pretend you won’t have them all done within the hour,” she snapped before closing her eyes, sucking in a deep breath, steadying herself as if this was the most aggravating conversation she’d ever had in her life. “Look.”
Her voice was gentler, her tone a bit closer to her normal sunny disposition, and Ranar almost laughed out loud at the notion that he and his inability to spot the subtle flirtations of strangers were the cause of her near apoplexy.
“All I’m saying is you are selling yourself short. And yes, I think you need a head start because you’re not nearly half as smooth as the majority of the men in this town.Anddon’t get me wrong,“ she added quickly, already knowing the way he would turn the conversation. “I know you have a lot on your plate. Iknowyou’re dealing with so much right now and I don’t envy you any of it. And I’m here whenever you need a shoulder to cry on. But you’re one of the nicest guys I know. You’re genuinely a good guy, and that’s more than I can say for some of my other friends.”
“If you compare me to Tris, I am never speaking to you again.”
“And I just think,” she went on a bit louder, ignoring him, “that all of this with your dad wouldn’t feel like such a heavy burden if you had someone to share it with.”
“I thought you were here whenever I needed a shoulder to cry on?” he challenged, fighting his grin as she stamped her foot. “I have you, Gracie. I have my friend online. I don’t have the mental bandwidth to start dating someone newandkeep this place going by myselfandbe the only responsible adult in my family. That’s just a fact.”
“Yeah, but you lied and toldthatwoman that you have a girlfriend!”
“Because she said she had a boyfriend!” He turned to her, incredulous. “Now who’s being obtuse? She’s someone from my plant server, I didn’t want her to think I was only talking to her because I’m on the prowl.”
“Literally,howare you so bad at this? If it weren’t for Ruma, I would be convinced you’ve never had sex before. That you’ve never even talked to a woman!”
Ranar rolled his eyes. It was his turn to ignore her, he decided. And he really did have orders to get to. “Grace, I appreciate you, and I hear what you’re saying. It’s just not a good time.”
She sighed heavily, re-accepting the spool of gold ribbon before trudging to the doorway. She stopped just before pulling it open, turning back to him.
“Thanks for this. Just let me know if any orders come in, I’m pretty sure we have everything in stock for the standard and the extra-large basket. And it’s never a good time, babe. Learn from my mistakes. This is one of those things youmaketime for.”
Ranar rolled his eyes one last time as Grace made her exit. It wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have, not even with himself.How are you supposed to make time for a girlfriend when you barely have time for anything as it is.Bending to the printer below the work desk opposite the POS station, he pulled out the afternoon’s orders, glaring at the logo in the corner of each.Bloomerang.
It was galling, being dependent on the floral industry giant.
Perhaps, he allowed, Grace was right. He shouldn’t have been as blunt as he was with the pretty stranger, but he was steadfast in what he had told her. Unless she wanted to be a wedding florist, which was a thankless job with endless hours and no shortage of stress during bridal season, there was no way to compete with the flower giant’s latest scheme to cut out the middleman.
Once upon a time ago, people came into the shop directly for all their flower-sending needs. He had been a child —big enough to help, old enough for some responsibility— tasked with unwrapping boxes of vases and baskets, placing them carefully on the shelf and breaking down the packaging. They came in for roses before dinner dates, cheery baskets of daisies and sunflowers to send to a sick friend, stood in line to place orders for school dances and graduations, table arrangements for holidays and bouquets for the school play. He was old enough to remember the phone in the shop ringing throughout the day, customers who called the flower behemoth’s 1-800 number to place an order, patched through to local little stores like his family’s, all across the unification.
Then had come the fax machine. The whirring, buzzing click of an incoming fax was one of his keystone memories. The fax machine gave way to the wire service with the advent of the Internet, requiring a dedicated line and a modem, the unending noise from the dot matrix printer in the office like a song he’d been forced to hear for hours on end.
