“Do you know when it was released?”
“Ten years or so, I guess. It was on a TV show about country music.”
Rosie shook her head and tapped her purse, which still contained her mom’s wishes. She’d taken to carrying them around with her and hadn’t processed what that meant yet. “She gave me the orders when I was eighteen. The only thing my mom told me was that I was never good enough.”Too much. “Sorry. Ignore that. Seems like I might be passing through the anger stage of grief,” she said and smiled. Seeing someone from a past when her mom still very much had her claws in Rosie was triggering, apparently.
Alyssa’s jaw twitched. She reached over the counter and rubbed Rosie’s upper arm gently. “Your mom never realized that she created someone as special as you.” She shrugged. “Or maybe she did, and her jealousy made her such a bitch.”
Rosie placed her hand over Alyssa’s and gave a tight-lipped smile. “I really appreciate you saying that.” She didn’t believe it, of course. Deconstructing the framework of negativity her mom had built around Rosie continued to be a work in progress.
“How many would you like? They’re fifteen dollars each.”
Rosie gulped when she did the math. Seemed like a lot of money to spend on something only about ten people were going to see. And she couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to take them home. “Fifty-one. Mom wanted one for every year of her life.”
“It could be worse. At least she didn’t want roses dipped in twenty-four karat gold.” Alyssa made a note with an elegant flourish of her pen.
“Well, she did want gold foliage.”
“No problem. We can use regular gold spray paint for that,” Alyssa said and winked. “When is the memorial? It takes a few days to get these in stock, and we’re quite busy getting our Halloween orders prepared.”
“Saturday.”
“Oh.” Alyssa laid her pen down and looked serious. “ThisSaturday?”
Rosie dropped her shoulders. “Is that not going to be possible?”
Alyssa pulled a giant, overstuffed diary from under the counter and dropped it with a thud. “Let’s see.”
As she flipped through the diary, Rosie could see how incredibly busy Alyssa was from the ink-filled pages. “Wow, you’re very popular.”
Alyssa looked up and grinned. “Isn’t it great? Speaking of which, how did you find out about us?”
“My boss recommended you.” Rosie stopped herself from saying any more. She knew from Mindy Fletcher that Franklin sent a lot of business Alyssa’s way, but she didn’t want to be an unprofessional gossip like her. “I don’t really have occasion to send flowers much. I’d rather receive them,” she said and smiled.
“Noted,” Alyssa said and winked. “Who’s your boss?”
It took Rosie a second to regain her composure. Why had she said anything about receiving flowers? And why did Alyssa note it? “Billy Franklin of Mandele.”
“Ah, Billy Franklin.” Alyssa tapped her diary repeatedly with her pen, and ink dripped onto the pages. She dabbed it away with some leftover tissue paper from the bouquet on the desk. “He’s probably my best private customer. Spends more than most companies, but I bet you know that already.”
Heat prickled up her spine. She was embarrassed for him.Someone had to be, because he had no shame about the number of people he “liaised with,” as he called it. Rosie didn’t indulge the office gossip, but she had to admit to being intrigued as to whether it was just the women he sent flowers to, or if he was equal opportunities in his brush-offs with the men and the enbies who passed through his doors. She liked to think he wasn’t sexist, since he was all about equal opportunities for everyone in his sex life. Not that she wanted to think about his sex life. She shook off the thoughts.Thiswas why she didn’t like gossip. There were some mental images she just couldn’t shake.
Alyssa sucked in her breath sharply, recapturing Rosie’s attention.
She flipped back and forth between two pages. “Okay, I’m going to squeeze you in and work late on Wednesday. It means that your flowers will be ready Thursday, which isn’t ideal.” She rolled her fountain pen under her palm on the counter and shook her head. “Ideally, I’d do them first thing on the morning of the memorial. They don’t last as long as regular roses because of the dye, so they’ll start to droop on Monday. But they’ll still look nice on Saturday.”
“Are you sure?”
Alyssa frowned. “Am I sure they’ll still look nice? Of course I am. I wouldn’t deliver bad flowers to anyone, let alone my favorite best friend.” She glanced at Lori and smiled. “Again, no offense. You’re clearly an upgrade.”
Lori chuckled. “Thank you.”
“No, I meant, are you sure you’re able to fit me in?” Rosie asked.
“Absolutely. But you owe me a coffee so I don’t fall asleep dipping your roses.”
Fire whipped across Rosie’s face when Alyssa winked again. Was she flirting? That would be too weird, after all this time, but Rosie did want the opportunity to catch up. “I’d like that. I’m slammed this week?—”
“Could I crash the memorial?” Alyssa managed to look hopefuland a tiny bit mischievous at the same time. “I’d like to be there for you, if that’s okay?”
