Page 43 of The Floral Arrangement

I chuckled. “Thank you. I may take you up on that offer.”

My eyes dropped to Roz’s list of questions. Career history.Ugh. I did not feel like reliving that right now. I skipped to the next question.

“Food dislikes and allergies. Any deadly allergies to nuts, crustaceans or anything else I should know about?” I asked.

“I have a mild pollen allergy. When it gets annoying, I take antihistamines.”

I slammed down my wine glass. “Aha!” I exclaimed. “Is that why you hate flowers?”

“No.” Roz pressed her lips together.

“Oh.” My shoulders slumped. For whatever reason, Roz clearly did not want to discuss it and I didn’t want to push her when it finally felt as though we’d been getting along. “And any foods you hate?”

Roz’s face relaxed. “I may have very recently developed a dislike of dairy, but I hope it’s temporary. It would be very tragic if I was put off triple cream brie and Ben & Jerry’s butter pecan for life.”

I laughed. I liked this lighter, joking version of Roz. “I still think you should try my quark. It really is very good.”

Roz wrinkled her nose. “Are you sure it’s going to be okay by the time we get home? It’s very warm today.”

I glanced over the rows of vines, lit by the strong afternoon sun. “Yeah, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” I said. “I’ve got a few cooler bars in there.”

Roz took another sip of wine and leaned back in her chair. “What about you? Any dietary restrictions or foods you can’t stand?”

I filled Roz in on my allergy to pineapple and then snapped the notebook shut. “Well, I think we’re done.”

Frowning, Roz reached over and grabbed the notebook. She scanned the page. “You didn’t ask about job history. I know you worked off and on at Red Tractor Farm in your twenties. But when you were “off,” what were you doing?”

I sighed. I didn’t feel like listing all my failures off to a highly successful business woman. “I was pursuing various, um… ventures.”

“What kind of ventures?” Roz asked, her eyes fixed on me.

Heat rose in my cheeks. “Fine.” I took a fortifying gulp of the pinot noir I’d moved on to. “I’ll answer, but if you’ve finished can we walk? I feel like I need to start moving after all that food—unless you want to drink any more of the wine?”

“I’m all good, thanks,” Roz said, surveying the row of half-full glasses. “I want to make sure I get your sister’s bike home in one piece.” She placed her napkin on the table and pushed back her chair.

We walked over to the counter and paid, thanking Prue again for the lovely meal and wine, and then stepped out onto the grassy lawn between the restaurant and the events space.

I filled my lungs with air, exhaling slowly. “You wanted to know about my job history. Some of my greatest hits include worm farms, making biodegradable cardboard coffins, recycling cooking oil, and dog walking.” I dropped my gaze to the ground and braced myself for the laughter and snide remarks.

“Biodegradable coffins?” Roz asked.

I looked over to Roz and blinked. Her head was tilted and she gazed at me with interest rather than mockery.

“They’re very environmentally friendly,” I explained, as we walked toward the vines. “But it turns out there isn’t a huge market for them around here and the local funeral homes were reluctant to sell them.” I kept my voice light, not wanting to let on to Roz just how devastating it had been when it had failed. The cooking oil recycling business had been even worse. An image of me meeting with bank representatives in the city, pleading to give me more time to repay the loan before they repossessed my assets flashed into my head. My chest constricted. Hopefully Roz and I could pull off this fake-dating charade. I couldn’t bear to have another failed venture on my hands.

Roz nodded. “I’m surprised dog walking didn’t take off.”

We reached the vines. I stopped, admiring their gnarled trunks and woody arms twisted around the trellis wire. “It turns out most people in these parts actually like getting outside with their dogs, so demand was low.” I managed a weak smile. At least dog walking required few upfront costs, so when it failed I didn’t need to deal with the debt collectors.

Roz trailed her hand along the trellis wire. “Makes sense. So after all these, um… career mishaps, you eventually decided on floristry?”

I breathed out, my smile widening. Thank god for floristry. “Yes. It’s perfect for me. I get to be creative, be around gorgeous flowers all day, interact with customers and, while I’m by no means saving the world, I am bringing a bit of color to people’s lives in an environmentally sustainable way. It’s just a shame it took me so long to work it out.” My smile faltered. I started walking again, down the row of vines. The buds studding the branches were swelling and starting to break open, new growth unfurling from them. I raised my hand to shield my eyes from the sun, which was surprisingly warm.

“Well, the fact you kept going, until you found something that worked, is… commendable,” Roz said, stepping in time with me. “There’s a reason why there are so many sayings about failure being the steppingstone to success. Most people give up too soon. I worked with a lot of successful businesspeople when I was a management consultant, and that’s one thing they all shared. They didn’t give up.”

I shot Roz a glance to check if she was teasing or not. She looked genuine, her face as soft as someone with incredible cheek bones and startling blue eyes could be. My heart squeezed. I swallowed.Maybe all that dairy has clogged my arteries and is giving me palpitations. “Thank you. That’s nice of you to say. I think most people just think I’m a bit scatterbrained, jumping from one thing to the next, unable to settle down.”

We came to the end of the vines and stopped at a strip of wildflowers Prue had planted to attract bees. I bent down, gently lifting up a Virginia bluebell and inspecting it. They really were a striking color.

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