Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
I cocked my head to the side.
Naomi was definitely onto something. After all, it wasn’t as if her or I could go to work for some other flower shop and automatically love it the same way. No, Patty’s Petals was unique. It was a special place, and if the two of us had fallen in love with it so easily, who was to say that Brady couldn’t, too?
It was certainly more plausible than me trying to buy the shop, and I’d given that a shot.
“You know,” I said, a wide grin spreading across my face. “I think you might be right.”
Naomi shrugged. “I usually am. But I think it’s the best chance we’ve got for keeping this place as it is, without selling its soul to some stupid corporation.”
If we could show Brady how nice—how much fun—it could be to work at the flower shop, we might have a chance. It was still a slim chance, to be fair, but I believed that I got a lot more out of my job than just money because of my love of the work and the people.
We just had to get Brady to see it, too.
“Agreed.” I took a deep breath and stood up, feeling as though a heavy weight had been at least partially lifted from my shoulders. “So, I guess we know what we need to do.”
“We need to be happy.”
“We need to be perfect.”
I gave a wry smile. “We need to make him fall in love.”
Chapter Twenty-Three - Brady
From the workbench in the back corner of the shop, I watched—half-amused and half-amazed—as Joanne guided the elderly lady around from corner to corner, from arrangement to beautiful arrangement. The pitiful bouquet I had been attempting to put together was momentarily forgotten as the scene unfolded in front of me.
The customer might have looked frail and grandmotherly—maybe even great-grandmotherly—but Jo’s back had immediately straightened, and her jaw had set as soon as she’d walked through the door, giving me my first clue that this particular customer was a little less warm and fuzzy than she might have appeared.
Her rapid-fire questions in lieu of a greeting confirmed what I had suspected. This old lady was as prickly as the little shelf of cacti behind the counter.
“No,” the woman was saying to Joanne, the tight, white curls on her head shaking emphatically as she spoke. “I’m tired of tulips. They’re overdone, especially this time of year. Not that I didn’t like the ones you sent for me last time, of course. Keep going.” She pointed imperiously toward the hanging baskets in the corner—the same kind that I was hopelessly trying to mimic—and issued her next edict. “Show me some of those. There’s a spot by my garage that could use a good hanging basket. If you have one that’s decent.”
I snorted, then quickly looked down as both her head and Joanne’s snapped in my direction. I tried to play it off as a cough but didn’t dare glance back up until I heard Jo’s soothing voice again, extolling the virtues of the hanging baskets we had on display.
How could Joanne stay so patient, so serene, when the customer was being so aggressively… particular? It was definitely beyond anything I could have managed. I might have been trained for defense on the football field, but I’d be the first to admit that I was no match for old Mrs.… Lindstrom? Lincoln?
Whatever Joanne had called her, she was way out of my customer-service comfort zone. Joanne, on the other hand, was handling her questions and demands and thinly veiled insults like a pro.
“I think we’ve got a few that you might like, Mrs. Linley.” Joanne shot me a look as the corners of her lips twitched. Was that quick near-grin meant for me? “If not, Brady and I are going to make a couple more later today. We’d be happy to do a custom one for you, if you’d like.”
She sniffed, and her eyes flicked back toward me for a moment, making me feel like a deer in headlights.
“A custom one? Hm. Maybe.” She cocked her head to the side for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, I think I’d like a custom arrangement. I might stop by again tomorrow and see what you’ve come up with, or…”
“Or I’m sure Naomi would be more than happy to deliver it to you when it’s done.”
She smiled, the first time I had seen even a hint of happiness. “You’re a mind reader, Joanne. I don’t know how you do it.”
She returned the smile and gave a little wink. “I do my best, Mrs. Linley. Was there anything else we could help you with today?”
“Not a thing,” she said, already walking toward the door. “You’ve been a gem, as always. I’ll be in touch tomorrow.”
“Looking forward to it,” Joanne said, giving a little wave as she walked out.