One-Off (7 page)

“I didn’t stalk him,” she insisted.

“He was at St. Andrews, where you were headed, until he took a position at Columbia. Suddenly, you’re going there instead. That’s the definition of stalking.”

“It is not. He was the best option, really the only professor that could get me into the postgraduate field I wanted at Cambridge and later Glasgow. If I’d stayed at St. Andrews, I might not be where I am today.”

Her tone made me backtrack on the tease. I knew how exclusive her PhD field was, having the right professor on her team went a long way with the admissions committees. “I was joking.”

“I,” she started and paused, pursing her lips. “I can’t always tell.”

That was a big admission on her part. “I could be less subtle.”

“That would help.”

In college I used to think she always needed the last word. I could still be right about that, but I wasn’t sure in this case. We had to work together for a few weeks. I needed to start giving her the benefit of the doubt. If only to avoid aging before my time.

Nine

I pulled to the curb in front of a flower shop that Gary suggested. It looked more posh than substance and nothing like the floral shop owned by a friend of mine. We got out of the car and entered the shop to discover I’d been right in my assessment. Dainty arrangements decorated a few tables, but no other stock could be seen.

“Where are all the flowers?” Ainsley asked in a hushed voice.

A woman in tight black everything slinked toward us. “Ms. MacKinnon?”

I extended my hand and watched as she bounced her eyes back and forth between Ainsley and me. I waited to see if she’d comment. I assumed Gary told her to expect two women, not a man and a woman.

“Fabulous.” Her tone didn’t suggest that exactly, but she reached behind the counter and brought out an iPad. She gestured to a sleek chrome table. On it, the floral arrangement consisted of five red roses and one white with some leafy greens. “Let’s take a look at what we can do for your wedding.”

I frowned and wondered if I needed to clarify whose wedding we were planning. Not that the woman seemed concerned as she opened her tablet and began finger swiping through various photos of arrangements.

“Are there preferences you have?”

Of course there are preferences. Do people really come into a floral shop for their wedding flowers and not have preferences? I wasn’t much of a flower person, but even I have preferences.

“Nothing white,” Ainsley said.

The woman swiveled her head to look at her. “White is traditional for weddings. It’s a must.”

That was the best way to get me to do the exact opposite. “Why?” I asked Ainsley.

“White flowers are often used in funeral arrangements in Scotland.”

I could see where that might make someone shiver seeing a white floral arrangement at a wedding. “It would be nice to find colors that complement the wedding colors so we aren’t drowning in blue, green, purple, and yellow.”

“That’s an interesting mix,” the woman said diplomatically while still showing signs of a frown.

“It’s a compromise.”

“Ah, who wanted what?” Her finger waved between us.

“We’re planning for my friend and her fiancé.”

“Oh.” She straightened, physically distancing herself. I could see the hope of a commission drain from her expression. She thought we were there to peruse the offerings, not make decisions and place orders.

“Yeah,” I said because I wasn’t sure what to do with someone who looked like she was almost refusing to serve us.

“Skye.” Ainsley startled me with the use of my name. She hadn’t addressed me by name since she’d arrived. “My headache has gotten worse. Can we reschedule?”

What headache? I caught the look of relief on the woman’s face and figured out what Ainsley was doing. I honestly didn’t think she had the acting chops to pull this off. “Sure. We’ll have the planner call to reschedule. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

“No problem.” Tight black everything swept from the table as if leading an entourage into the back of the shop where she must hold the flowers hostage.

Ainsley and I made our way back to the car. I reached for the passenger door at curbside to open it for her. Ainsley gave me and the open door a lingering glance before slipping into the car.

“I’ve never been to a flower shop that didn’t have any flowers.” She looked back at the store.

Sitting in the car, I now realized how uneasy I’d been inside, like we were being interviewed before they’d allow us to order flowers. “Gary’s going to have a heart attack.”

“You must know of other florists.”

“There’s a small shop by my office. She doesn’t do weddings, but we can ask if she’ll make an exception for Dallas.” I put the car in gear and got us going in that direction. “I can take care of this if you really have a headache.”

“I just said that to get out of there. I felt like we were in a sketch comedy version of a flower shop.”

I laughed and Ainsley’s eyes widened in surprise at the sound. When she knew me in grad school, I was a pretty serious thing, especially around someone who seemed irritated by my very existence. That was going to have to change. We’d need all the humor we could find if we were going to get through this to the wedding.

The atmosphere in the next shop was completely different. About half the size of the last place, Morgan had flowers, plants, and trees displayed everywhere. The front held as much inventory as the back storeroom. Even without liking flowers, I loved this place. It helped that I really liked the owner.

“Skye,” Morgan greeted as she came out from the behind the counter. Her champagne blond hair was twisted into a messy bun with most of the ends hanging free. Despite having worked alone in the shop all day, her hazel green eyes were bright and shiny. “What brings you in? Another staff retirement?”

Ainsley turned a surprised gaze my way. “You’re a regular?”

“Everyone likes flowers.”

“You don’t.”

My head jerked into a double-take. How would she know that? Her fleeting smile didn’t tell me anything. It wasn’t like I hated flowers. They weren’t one of my least favorite things.

“Did I hear a touch of Great Britain there?” Morgan smiled at Ainsley.

“You did. Scotland.”

“I visited Edinburgh for a couple of days on my honeymoon. It was majestic.” Her face didn’t show the melancholy I knew she felt at the mention of her now dissolved marriage. “Are you just visiting?”

Ainsley nodded. “I’m in for my cousin’s wedding, and Skye tells me you do lovely flowers.”

Morgan tipped her head at me. “This one here is so thoughtful. Do you know how many bosses don’t even get a card for their staff when they have birthdays or babies or go into retirement? If I’d had a boss like her, I might never have gone out on my own.”

“Well, if you do weddings, we’re glad you didn’t have a boss like Skye.”

Morgan laughed and flashed me a bright smile. “I’d love to help you out, but Skye knows I’m a one-person shop. I don’t have a crew for installations, and I decided a long time ago that bridezillas aren’t worth the extra income from wedding flowers.”

“Bridezillas?” Ainsley turned a questioning stare at me.

“Brides who get so caught up in having every little thing perfectly done and only their way that they become Godzilla-like.”

“There’s even a TV series on it,” Morgan added helpfully. “That alone would make me want to skip wedding flowers. Who’s getting married?”

“Dallas.” I felt a little guilty that she hadn’t had time to tell everyone yet. Morgan was more my friend than Dallas’s, but they got along whenever we all went out together.

“Really? She bagged and tagged Colin, huh?”

I held up my hand to keep Ainsley from asking what that meant. “What do you say?”

“I don’t know. It’s a lot of time and I couldn’t do installation.” She shot me a guilty look. “No offense, but Dallas likes getting her way when she’s normal. As a bride, she’d be a terror to deal with.”

Ainsley started cracking up, and I couldn’t help but join in. “Good thing they’re off in South America and we’re the ones planning the wedding.”

Morgan tapped her ears for effect. “You’re kidding, right?”

“We’re not,” I confirmed. “They had a cancellation at Dallas’s church and now they’re off chasing a big story. They don’t want to give up either, so we’re the stand-ins.”

“Wow.”

“Aye,” Ainsley agreed.

“I still don’t think I’m the right florist.”

“There’s a wedding planner with a staff,” I coaxed. “We can get them to do the installation if you’ll agree to the arrangements.”

“I love your shop,” Ainsley told her. “I knew we were in the right place as soon as we stepped through the door.”

“That sounds a lot like you’re buttering me up, but thanks for that. It’s great to hear.”

“So?” I’d put her on short notice before with orders. I was hoping this wouldn’t be any different.

“When’s the date?” she asked and started choking when Ainsley told her. “Are they crazy? Dallas is, sure, but both of them together? Three weeks is nuts.”

“Can you do it?”

“How elaborate?”

I looked at Ainsley. “Does Colin have specifics other than colors?”

She shook her head. “Not too ostentatious.”

“I agree. Whatever you think, Morgan. You’re the pro. Maybe we can take you by the location after work one night and you can come up with a plan?”

“If it were anyone but you, Skye, I’d tell you to shove it.”

“I feel honored.”

“Colors?”

“There’s a bit of a clash on that, I’m afraid.” I told her the colors they both wanted.

“Hmm,” she thought for a moment. “We’ll use variations and complements so everything isn’t so color matchy.”

“No white,” I inserted, shooting a glance at Ainsley.

“The funeral thing, right?” Morgan guessed.

Ainsley beamed. “You are the right person for this.”

“I tend to get on Dallas’s nerves. Just ask Skye.”

I shrugged. They did often try to one up each other, but Dallas would be happy that we were benefiting our friend’s business.

Ten

Fine white china decorated the table we’d been led to. After the fiasco at the first flower shop last night, I was hoping to avoid the same with the caterers tonight. Based on their showy table settings, it didn’t look like that would happen.

“Are you going to make us order haggis?” I joked as we took a seat.

“We don’t make that,” one of the caterers supplied before Ainsley could get in a word.

Now I really didn’t think this was the right place for us. As Gary’s top choice, the food must be spectacular. It better be to make up for the lackluster service.

“Gaylord sent over a suggested menu. We’ll be serving the courses one after another.”

I raised my eyebrows at Ainsley. As far as I knew, Dallas and Colin hadn’t decided on a menu when they’d spoken to him.

Two servers appeared and produced salads that looked less like salads and more like a showcase for one scallop, one shrimp, and two weed shaped leaves that passed for lettuce. Not much for seafood, I tested the temperature on both and took a sliver of each to make sure the chef could cook. If I liked scallops or shrimp I’m sure I’d think this was fine, but how did it qualify as a salad?

“Is this an appetizer?” Ainsley asked.

“Ooh, are you Australian?”

Ainsley had to be sick of that question in all its forms. I was sick of hearing it, and I only heard it part of the time. “Scottish.”

“Oh.” The disappointment was plain in her tone. What did she have to be disappointed about?

“Is it the appetizer?” I repeated.

“This is the salad course. We’ll bring out appetizers later.”

“A salad?” Ainsley’s eyes indicated her disbelief.

“Our chef likes to change things up in the kitchen.”

“Have things changed that much since I left the States that there’s no lettuce in salad anymore?” Ainsley asked me.

“We don’t do ordinary here.” Defensiveness crept into the server’s tone. “It’s a feast extravaganza.”

A bubble of laughter erupted from me. Ainsley turned surprised eyes at me before joining my laughter. The server huffed back to the kitchen for the next course. That just made us laugh more.

Something red in the shape of a small disc came out between the appetizer and next course. It could have been from the beet family without tasting anything like a beet. The next course was more fish. How did I know other than the smell? The entire fish was sitting on the plate, eyes and all.

“Goodness,” Ainsley said when the plate was unceremoniously plopped in front of her.

“Not to your liking?” the woman almost taunted. “How long have you two been together?”

Heat swarmed my face and my heart started beating faster. “We aren’t,” I clarified and hoped to get what would surely anger Ainsley off the table quickly.

The woman just stared at us. “We don’t appreciate couples wasting our time. If Gaylord hadn’t called in a favor, you wouldn’t have gotten an appointment until next month.”

Ainsley straightened in her chair. “We aren’t wasting your time. You’re wasting ours. Based on the exorbitant pricing you’ve shown us, this food is not worth even half that. The planner was doing you a favor.”

This was the Ainsley I’d come up against many, many times. Daunting in every way and the snobbish woman didn’t stand a chance.

“Well, I’ve never—”

“I’m sure you haven’t,” I cut her off. “Let’s not waste any more time. You’re obviously not the caterer for us.”

“You’re not even getting married. Of course we’re not.”

Ainsley looked like she was going to shoot something back at her, but I grabbed her arm and twisted her toward the door. It was the first time I could consciously remember touching her when she wasn’t sick. I didn’t like that her bare arm felt cool and firm in my warmer grip. I released her as soon as we reached the door.

“We appreciate your time,” I fibbed to be polite and pushed us out the door.

“Obnoxious American.” Ainsley glared back through the glass.

“Don’t lump her in with all of us. She was just plain obnoxious.”