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The flower shop isn’t large, but the walls of fresh flowers and plants fill the air with a myriad of distinct scents, both earthy and floral.
I should bring Mimi here. She’d love seeing something like this. Might even give her some inspiration because my sis has been struggling with writer’s block.
With that thought, I explore the rest of the shop. It’s small, with only a few center displays of roses, lilies, and even some orchids. The right side houses mostly leafy green plants and even a cactus or two.
The other side has rarer plants most people wouldn’t get a full bouquet of. My eyes wander aimlessly until they land on my favorite flowers—sweet peas.
Admiring the variety of colors—pink, blue, purple, red—their sweet scent fills my nostrils.
“Oh,” a surprised voice fills the room. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to come in. Everyone’s usually at the beach this time of day.”
My shoulders tense at the sudden voice.
“My apologies. I didn’t mean to surprise you.”
I turn my head, looking over at a middle-aged man standing at the counter that was empty before.
He gives me a smile before taking the bouquet of white roses in his hand and attaching a little note inside.
“Are those your favorites?” he asks.
My brow ratchets up in confusion before he gives a head nod toward the sweet peas I was smelling earlier.
“You aren’t talkative, are you?” Normally, I’d think someone meant that as an insult, but one look at his kind smile washes that accusation away. “They say the sweet pea flower is associated with thoughts of goodbye. They make lovely funeral flowers.”
My eyes shoot wide open like somehow he knows about my birth parents’ death, and that’s why I’m here.
I slam my mouth closed because it would be impossible for him to know that. I don’t remember this man at all, so he wasn’t close with the Gordons.
“I just think they are pretty,” I croak out.
He nods, fiddling with something below the desk. I have to fight the urge to walk over and lean over it.
“Those light-pink ones match your hair.” He gets up with a sheet of plastic and walks over to the assortment of roses in the center of the room. I notice the slight limp in his walk. “They can also mean thank you and pleasure.”
Thank you, and pleasure.
Maybe I should get some for Ma and Mama before I leave for Grace Hill.
I watch as he gathers a full assortment of red roses. But instead of picking them all at once, he’s picking different ones after inspecting them.
“Is that bouquet going to just be red roses?”
“Oh, she speaks.” He grins at me as my cheeks flush red. He lets out a laugh. “Yes, I’m making two bouquets for some close friends.”
Before thinking, I ask, “Who are the friends?”
“Are you from around here? I haven’t seen you before. Tourist?” he asks.
“Technically,” I answer with a half-truth.
With a turn, he eyes me suspiciously before walking over to the counter again and rolling the roses into their assortment.
“There’s a story to that, but I won’t pry.” He gives me a tender smile before finishing up the bouquet. “The bouquets are for two of my friends, Karena and Daisy.” He eyes me for a second. “They are celebrating their six-month anniversary this weekend. I officiated at their wedding.”
Realization dawns on me as I remember the two ladies Oliver had pointed out. I walk over to the front counter, and out of the corner of my eye, I see a little trans pride flag.
My advance stops with my feet glued to the floor. I don’t know what emotion comes over me, but I meet the man’s gaze, and he looks hesitant.
