Calliope smacks her gum loudly, eyes stuck to the ceiling.
“We don’t need to decide this second,” Dominique says. “You can think about it, and while you’re here, you can look around and get a feel for which flowers you like. Even if you don’t go monofloral, we can talk about one or two flowers that will be the focus of the centerpiece, and I’ll build the arrangement around that.”
“Perfect.” Pen smiles before meandering toward the wall of flowers. She oohs and ahhs, bouncing between lilies and peonies.
Eitan stares intently at the white end of the wall, nibbling on his bottom lip. It’s a nervous habit he seems unaware of.
“Relax,” I whisper. “You look constipated.”
He barks out a laugh. Everyone looks at us and I shield myself in the calla lilies.
“Josh and I have the same eye color,” Eitan says. “What do you think?” He holds up baby’s breath to his eye. Josh’s desaturated blue eyes have absolutely nothing on Eitan’s glowing irises, but I hold my tongue.
“Uber bridal.” I nod. “Baby’s breath is a classic.”
Eitan pulls the bloom away from his eye in distaste. “I thought these were forget-me-nots.”
“Have you ever visited a botanic garden?” I laugh as I walk to the slim blue section on the other side of the whites. I extract a bundle of forget-me-nots and hold them up to Eitan.
“What about these?” The flowers appear purple next to Eitan’s eyes. “Mmm never mind. Wrong shade of blue.”
“Don’t flowers have meanings?” Penelope snaps her fingers, like she’s trying to conjure the meanings of flowers out of thin air. “Are there any flowers traditional to Jewish weddings?”
Dominique writes on her clipboard. “I can definitely do some research into that.”
I scramble to typeJewish wedding flowersinto Google. Eitan peers over my shoulder. His shit-eating grin is bright enough to rival the sunflowers on the other side of the room.
“Not a word,” I mutter to him.
The results seem pretty inconclusive, beyond two obvious answers: olive and pomegranate. I say these two out loud, and look up from my phone in time to see Penelope stifling a laugh.
“Fruit sounds a little too…rustic for my taste.”
My cheeks heat.
“Not to worry.” Dominique smiles. “We have plenty of time. We’re going to create your dream arrangement.”
“I have no doubts,” Penelope says airily, gathering her bag and hooking her arm in mine again, walking us to the door. “Thank you, Dominique!” she says over her shoulder.
“Thank you!” I call, before I am whisked outside. Dominique waves us out, smiling politely as she continues jotting down notes from that chaotic meeting.
“It’s a scorcher,” Josh says as we all step out into the muggy terrarium that is a late June Chicago day.
“We’re going to the casino,” Louise declares.
“At 11 a.m.?” Calliope asks.
“We’re already halfway to Indiana.” Louise wheels her walker to the car. “You coming, Callie?”
Calliope shrugs. “Suppose, I don’t have any plans.” She gets in the backseat of Louise’s Mercedes, giving Pen a single, wordless wave.
“Thanks so much for coming, Aunt Lou.” Pen leans in to peck Louise on the cheek, the motion stilted. “Wasn’t this fun?”
“So fun, hun,” Louise says as Alma helps her into the passenger seat.
“Thank you…” Pen looks at Alma, forgetting their name again.
“Alma!” they say, rounding the car.
