Flowers on Main (19 page)

And that mattered more to him than any grudges from the past, any fancy communities he might build or any accolades he might win.

J
ake had made his delivery to Flowers on Main just five minutes earlier, leaving Bree surrounded by what seemed like a mountain of flowers. She stood in awe amid the buckets of hydrangea stems in their brilliant blues, soft pinks and creamy white, plus tall yellow sunflowers, long-stemmed roses and fragrant tea roses, daisies in shades from yellow and orange to red and pink, impressive and fragrant stargazer lilies, sprays of tiny orchids and delicate freesia. Surrounded by all that color, she breathed in deeply, then promptly sneezed loudly enough to bring Abby out of the back room.

“Now, that’s not a good sign,” her sister said, her eyes alive with mischief. “Please tell me after all this, you’re not allergic to flowers.”

“Let’s hope not,” Bree said.

“What’s next?” Abby asked. “Shall we get all of these flowers into the coolers? Do you want some in the back room so you can start arranging them?”

For a moment, Bree simply took it all in, overwhelmed by the task that lay ahead. It made that wedding she’d pulled together at the last minute seem like child’s play. What on earth had given her the idea she could handle all this?

Abby came up behind her and gave her a hug. “Hey, it’s going to be great,” she said as if she’d read Bree’s mind. “We have a list of what needs to be done.”

“You have a list,” Bree said, “because you’re organized. It never even occurred to me to make a list.”

“Because you’re the creative genius behind the business,” Abby reassured her. “All the nuts and bolts of running your shop will fall into place.”

Bree gave her a wry look. “You weren’t this generous with your praise when Jess was messing up,” she reminded Abby.

“Because Jess isn’t you. She’s scattered because of the attention deficit disorder. I had to take a hard line with her to keep her focused. For a bit it seemed she’d forgotten all those techniques that had helped her to get through school and then college.
You
just need a little gentle nudging. This place is going to be amazing. Even if you never did a thing with these flowers, people would love walking in here. It smells fabulous and the colors are stunning.”

“Whatever you say,” Bree said skeptically. “So what’s first on your list?”

Despite Abby’s claim that everything could stay exactly where it was and be fine, naturally her big sister had not only a list but had set priorities.

“Getting all these flowers out of the middle of the floor so you can work,” Abby said briskly. She opened a cooler door, then went to pick up the bucket of sunflowers. “Tallest in the back so you can spot them?”

“Makes sense to me,” Bree said, picking up the long-stemmed red roses and the bucket of pink roses, as well. She handed them to Abby, who remained just inside the cooler door. They worked in assembly-line fashion until all the flowers were out of the main room.

Abby looked at the colorful array visible through the cooler’s glass door. “The flowers really are beautiful, Bree.”

Bree laughed. “Maybe so, but I think things will sell better if I actually put together some arrangements and bouquets for display.”

“Then I’ll leave you to that and I’ll get to work on decorating the counter with Gram’s Irish-linen tablecloth and installing the fountain for the punch. Dad’s bringing by a table for the hors d’oeuvres later.”

Alone at her workstation, Bree’s hands shook as she reached for the cobalt-blue vase she intended for an arrangement of splashy sunflowers. The minute she had the flowers in hand and began to work, though, her nervous stomach calmed and she worked quickly and confidently. The end result of all those years of learning flower arranging from Gram’s instinctive talent for it was a simple, decorative and summery display that would brighten any seaside cottage.

“That looks fantastic!” Abby said when Bree carried it into the showroom.

Bree gave her a suspicious look. “Are you going to rave about everything just to build my confidence?”

“Absolutely not,” Abby insisted. “You know me. I’m blunt to a fault. Now tell me, what’s the price on that arrangement?”

Bree blinked at the question, did a quick calculation of the cost of the vase, the flowers and raffia bow and came up with a figure.

“Not enough,” Abby said. “People would pay twice that in New York.”

“We’re not in New York,” Bree argued.

“Then split the difference,” Abby suggested. “I guarantee you didn’t figure your time into that original price. It’s worth something.”

“I don’t want people to suffer from sticker shock,” Bree said worriedly.

“But if you price things too low and have to raise the prices in a month to cover all your costs, it’ll be that much worse. Make sure they know this is going to be a classy shop and that they’ll get what they pay for. You can always do another beautiful arrangement that’s less expensive for people who don’t have that kind of money.”

Before Bree could respond, her cell phone rang. She grabbed it without checking the caller ID, then regretted it the second she heard Marty’s voice.

“Have you come to your senses yet?” he asked without preamble.

“I don’t have time to talk, Marty,” she said, immediately put on the defensive. “My open house is tomorrow, the grand opening on Saturday.”

“Then you’re actually going through with this nonsense?” His incredulity and the biting sarcasm in his tone were offensive. When he sounded like that it made it doubly difficult to recall why she’d fallen so hard for him.

“There was never any question about that. Look, I have to run. Bye.” She disconnected the call, then turned her phone off for good measure. Knowing Marty, he wouldn’t be happy about her hanging up on him and would call right back to let her know that. He certainly wouldn’t bother to wish her well. Though he’d once been lavish with his praise and encouragement, she realized now it had been saved for those occasions when she’d done his bidding, not when she’d dared to cross him.

She turned to find Abby regarding her with concern.

“You okay?” her sister asked.

“Fine,” she said tightly.

“You don’t look fine. I gather that was Marty.”

Bree nodded. “I’m just so sick of the way he denigrates everything I do. It wasn’t that way when we first met. He was a real mentor to me. He was charming, generous with his time.” She met Abby’s worried gaze. “How could I have misjudged him so badly?”

“Sweetie, you saw what he wanted you to see. Remember, I met him, too. We all did. He sang your praises. He was sweet to Gram. He talked to Dad about Ireland, charmed him with his wit.”

“But Dad said he never liked him,” Bree said.

“He saw through him. He heard the way Marty spoke
to
you, and not just
about
you. That’s what he didn’t like.”

“But
I
should have recognized that,” Bree said, filled with self-derision. “You all saw it. Why didn’t I?”

“Because you admired him, because he was your mentor and because he was smart and witty and had set out to charm your socks off.”

“Not just my socks,” Bree said wryly.

Abby laughed and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Now, that’s a good sign. You’re able to laugh at the situation.”

“But I still don’t understand why things went so wrong.”

“If you want my opinion, it was when he realized you were a better playwright than he is,” Abby guessed.

“But I’m not,” Bree said.

Abby held her gaze.
“Yes,”
she said emphatically, “you
are.
Look, I wasn’t going to get into this unless you brought it up, but the reviews of his last play were scathing, even worse than the ones for your third play.”

Bree stared at her in shock. “I’d forgotten when it was opening. He asked me to come, but I said no, then put it completely out of my mind.”

“Well, apparently it sucked. I looked the reviews up online just to satisfy my curiosity.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because I know how he made you feel about your work. I wanted to see for myself if his was so impressive that he deserved the way you’d looked up to him.”

“Just because he got a few bad reviews,” Bree began, feeling the need to defend him.

“Not
bad,
” Abby corrected. “They said his play was a real stinker, unexpectedly amateurish and proof of what a has-been he is.”

“They weren’t much kinder to me,” Bree reminded her.

“But he’s the pro,” Abby said. “He’s been working in the theater for years. He’s won awards. He’s even been produced off Broadway. You’re just getting started.”

Bree gave her a curious look. “And the moral of this story would be what? That even the mighty can take a tumble?”

“Or that the mighty don’t have the right to systematically strip away someone else’s confidence,” Abby said.

Bree sighed. “Okay, I get it.”

“Don’t just say you get it,” Abby chided. “Think about it and get your computer out of the closet and start writing again without that jealous, mean-spirited scumbag looking over your shoulder.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m otherwise engaged at the moment,” Bree said.

“And all this is wonderful,” Abby said with a sweep of her hand. “If you enjoy it, I’m behind you all the way. But if your heart’s still in writing plays, you need to find time for that, too. Not today or even this weekend, but soon.” She held Bree’s gaze. “Promise me, okay? If you ask me, it’s what you were really meant to do.”

Bree nodded solemnly. In fact, there was even a tiny flicker of anticipation somewhere deep inside her for the first time since she’d left Chicago in defeat.

She thought about everything her sister had just said and a grin slowly crept across her face. “A stinker, huh?”

Abby nodded happily. “Want to see? I printed the reviews out and kept them in my purse in case you asked about them.”

Bree wiggled her fingers. “Hand ’em over.”

She read the reviews. With each one her spirits lifted. It wasn’t that she was gloating over Marty’s failure. She swore to herself she wasn’t. It was just such a massive relief to know that a flop could happen to someone else, someone with more credentials than she had. Maybe she really should try again. She thought of her mother’s insistence that her own last play had failed not because of her words, characters or story, but due to Marty’s directing. She took heart from that, too.

Then she handed the reviews back to her sister. “Hold on to them, okay?”

“You don’t want to keep them?” Abby asked. She grinned. “Maybe frame them and hang them on the wall over your desk?”

She shook her head. “But keep them handy in case I start questioning myself again. Getting Marty’s critical voice out of my head isn’t going to be easy. Toward the end I could hear it censoring every word I wrote even when he wasn’t around.”

Abby’s face lit up. “But you will start writing again?”

“I promised you I would,” Bree said. “It may not be right away, because I really do want this business to succeed, but at least I’m ready to try. If I can’t juggle everything, I’ll hire help in here.”

“Hallelujah!” Abby exclaimed, sweeping her into her arms
and dancing her around, nearly knocking Mick down in the process as he came through the door with the folding table. He set it down and stared at them.

“You two start the celebration a little early?” he inquired, his eyes dancing.

“Not a drop of champagne between us,” Abby assured him.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind a drop of whatever it is that’s put you in this fine mood.”

“Hope,” Bree said at once.

For a moment, Mick looked confused, but then he caught on and smiled. “Hope’s a fine thing. There’s a bit of it in my life these days, as well.”

Bree was inclined to question him about that, but Abby was already speaking up.

“I suggest we all take a break for lunch and have a drink to hope,” Abby said.

“We’ll go to Sally’s,” Mick said. “My treat.”

Bree hesitated, thinking of Jake’s routine and her promise to Sally, then shrugged. She had a little hope on that front, too. This seemed as good a time as any to test it and see if Jake could handle seeing her twice in one day or if he’d bolt as he had the first time she’d invaded his space.

Jake was all alone in his regular booth at Sally’s awaiting the arrival of Mack and Will when he heard a familiar voice say a little too cheerily, “Well, look who’s here.”

He looked up into Abby O’Brien’s eyes, which were twinkling with devilment. He got a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach when he spotted Bree and Mick with her. Before he could think of some polite but dismissive greeting, Abby was already sliding into the booth.

“Mind if we join you?” she asked after it was too late for
him to object. “This place is packed. There are no other booths available.”

“Good to see you, Jake,” Mick said jovially as he slid in next to Abby, leaving it to Bree to sit next to Jake.

Bree gave him an apologetic look as she took the remaining seat. “I know you were saving these for Mack and Will,” she said, scowling pointedly at her sister. “I’m really sorry.”

Sally arrived just then and surveyed the booth’s occupants with a frown. Apparently satisfied that Jake was hemmed in and couldn’t bolt, she finally passed out menus and promised to retrieve a couple of chairs to shove up to the end of the table for Mack and Will who were just walking in the door, oblivious to the scene awaiting them. Jake had a pretty good idea what their reaction was going to be. They might be on good behavior now, but later he’d never hear the end of this little O’Brien-family gathering with him tucked in the middle.

It was Will who spotted them first. His puzzled reaction at finding his regular booth crammed with people quickly changed to a look of pure delight when he realized Bree was among the interlopers.

“Hey, darlin’,” he said, leaning down to give her a kiss. “I heard you were back in town, but this is the first chance I’ve had to welcome you home.”

Mack shot a worried glance toward Jake, then offered his own hearty greeting to Bree before shaking Mick’s hand and giving Abby a wave.