Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
“I’d love to see who it belongs to,” Sandra said dreamily. “Maybe it’s a handsome, cocky, twenty-something that was sent over here to sweep me off my feet.”
“Hey!” Bradley protested. “I’m a handsome, cocky, twenty something.”
“Aren’t you thirty? Plus, you’re not loaded. That person over there has a life that I very much want to have a taste of.”
“Well, I’m afraid he’s not coming over,” I said, nudging her arm with my elbow as I returned to the store. “Back to work you. We only have three hours before we have to send the flowers to the restaurant.”
“Fine,” she groaned, “but you all keep an eye on the car. I want to at least see what the owner looks like. I bet it’s some celeb from LA.”
“Or it’s some older man with an erectile dysfunction and an estranged wife,” Bradley muttered.
We both turned to Bradley at his bitter comment, but he shrugged and winked. “You never know,” he said. “The wildest things happen these days.”
“You mean in your mind,” Sandra said. “The wildest thing to happen in this town since Johnny Cash was that Whitney Gallow starred in Hoarders, so I don’t know where you’re getting your news from.”
“He’s leaving,” I announced, another carton in hand. Bradley and Sandra both paused to watch as the vehicle pulled out of the curb and began to slowly head our way.
“He’s coming over,” Sandra squealed and spun around to face me, her hands quickly smoothing her hair. “I bet he wants to buy flowers for someone. For Valentine’s Day. Oh my God, he’s probably a Hollywood director or something. We should take a picture and put it on our Instagram page. Just think, this shop could become famous,” she babbled excitedly.
I was amused, but I couldn’t help the flare of hope in my heart. What if he truly was rich with an Elton John personality who needed his home to be filled with flowers? That’s exactly what the shop needed. Regular income.
Just as the car reached our shop, we all stared at it, trying to see beyond the tint. However, it did not slow down, but sped up. We watched as it zoomed past.
“I guess he really came just to buy groceries,” Bradley mocked.
“What a bummer,” Sandra said. “The one time we have an interesting visitor on our street and he speeds off without dropping in here.”
I agreed with her. There goes my fantasy of an Elton John type customer who spends an insane fortune on flowers every month.
“At this rate, Willow, we’re going to end up alone with fifteen cats and fifteen cat litter boxes to clean out.”
“Fifteen?” Bradley asked. “That’s quite a specific number.
“I have a thing for the number.”
I smiled because I knew all about her attachment to that number. It was a bit crazy, but who was I to judge? I was more than a little crazy too. She had a thing for the number fifteen and I had a thing about lollipops. I couldn’t bear to see anyone eating a lollipop. It actually made me feel physically sick. If I accidentally, come across a child sucking a lollipop, I have to immediately turn away, otherwise, I would have to snatch the thing out of that child’s mouth. That was how weird I was.
“Are you going to tell us about this fifteen thing you’ve got going?” Bradley asked, his voice teasing.
“It’s my birth date, my mom’s birth date, the day I first got my period, my first job at Target, the day I got accepted into college, the day my brother got married, the day—”
“It is now clear that the fifteenth of all months should be renamed Sandra’s Day,” Bradley said, handing the delivery receipt to me.
“No arguments there,” she agreed heartily. Then she turned towards me. “Anyway, Willow, tomorrow evening we’re painting the town red. We’re going to close the shop early. No, don’t you dare give me that look. We are closing early. Anyone who hasn’t bought their flowers by 7pm on Valentine’s Day is a piece of shit that we don’t want as a customer.”
I was shaking my head so she changed tack.
“Fine, we’ll bring our cute clothes here, close up by eight, and go man-hunting then. I am ready to be devoured.”
I wasn’t, but I kept my opinions to myself.
“Okay, I’m leaving,” Bradley said, and quickly exited the shop.
I returned to my flowers without a word. “I haven’t gotten your response, Willow,” she said in a cautionary voice, and I turned a sheepish smile on her.
“Let’s see how tomorrow goes.”
“You’re not getting out of this,” she warned sternly. “I’ve already seen how it’ll go. You, in that gorgeous red dress of yours with those sexy strings at the back, and my red stilettos. I’ll be in my black halter-neck and my brand-new pumps.”
“Ah, I get it,” I said as I reached for a packet of flower food. “We’re going as sin and death.”