Page 6 of A Bouquet of Dreams

She smiled. “I knew I’d make some new friends at this rehab conference.”

Claire laughed. Maybe the conference wasn’t a total loss. Her birthday might be looking up.

Sophie stuck to Claire like sticky floral tape. She even followed her to the bathroom during a short break. It didn’t take long for Claire to learn that Sophie seemed somewhat unaware of how others perceived her, and for that, she felt a sense of camaraderie. On the walk back to the conference room, Sophie asked how long Claire had been “tinkerin’” with flowers.

Claire did not tinker with flowers. She styled them. Since Sophie was a new acquaintance and probably not a lasting one, Claire held back from correcting her. “Since I was sixteen,” Claire said. “And I plan to be working with flowers till the day I die.”

Sophie’s eyes went wide. “Getout! How do you know that?”

How did she know? Claire had known what she wanted to do with her life since she was sixteen years old and first walked into Rose’s Flower Shop to ask for a job. Rose Reid went to the same church as Claire’s grandparents, but even if she hadn’t, Sunrise was one of those small towns where everyone knew each other. It made the teenagers nervous.

Rose had been watering some indoor plants and set the watering can on the counter to give Claire her full attention. “You want to work here?”

“I saw the Help Wanted sign on the window, and I thought I’d just come on in and apply.”

“Do you have any floral experience?”

“Some. I’m, uh, self-taught.” Claire loved flowers dearly, but her floral experience consisted of picking wildflowers near the creek and arranging them in an empty peanut butter jar. She knew nothing about styling flowers other than what she’d studied on Pinterest; she’d never even made an official bouquet with flowers of this quality. She didn’t know their names. She’d never used floral tape or cage frogs or paddle wire or any of the mechanics she’d learned about. She’d never even seen them in real life.

Rose led her to the workshop in the corner of the shop, handedher an apron and clippers, and said, “You’ve got fifteen minutes. Use whatever you want from the cooler. Let’s see what you can do.” Then the bell chimed on the door, and she left Claire alone while she went to tend to the customer.

Was Rose serious? Claire stood there for a full minute, shocked. She thought she’d be working a cash register, not creating flower arrangements.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw some brightly colored ranunculi in a white bucket. Above the workbench was a shelf full of an assortment of vessels. Something clicked and she snapped out of her stupor. She chose a small glass vase with a long neck. Then she took a few ranunculi and trimmed their stems and leaves (at least she knewthatmuch) before placing them in the vessel. She found some floral wire and cut several long pieces, placing a wire carefully into each blossom so that it traveled down the stem. The wire allowed her to bend and shape the stem so that the blossoms almost seemed to float in the air.

“Where’d you learn that trick?”

She looked up to see Rose at the edge of the workbench, arms crossed, watching Claire. “Instagram.”

Rose’s eyebrows shot up. “You know much about social media?”

“I’m a whiz.” That was the gospel truth.

Rose walked over and studied the small arrangement. “Bless your heart.”

With that, Claire stiffened. “Bless your heart” was Southern code for many things:You poor thing. You’rean idiot.OrWhat on God’s green earth made you think that was a good idea?

But it could also mean someone was struck speechless and didn’t really know what to say. “Absolutely lovely,” Rose finally said. “Simple but elegant.” Then she looked at Claire. “I do believe God has given you a special gift.” Then she smiled. “There’s only one thing that’s missing.”

Claire studied the arrangement for a very long moment before cringing. “Water.”

Rose laughed. “Honey, you’re hired.” She wrapped her arms around Claire and gave her a true Southern-style hug. Practically knocked the wind right out of Claire. Rose gave great hugs.

“I do believe God has given you aspecial gift.”Those ten words changed Claire’s life. That, and“You’re hired.”

Teen years were fragile for everyone, but especially for Claire. It might have had something to do with being a little bit overweight, or maybe it was a result of growing up with a mom who went missing, or maybe she’d just moved too many times as an army brat. No one would think it, but she had very low self-confidence. She had never in her life felt like she was naturally gifted at anything. And now here she was, managing with little discernible effort to do something that was, Rose said, absolutely lovely.

The joy of it. The pleasure, the satisfaction. Flowers were astounding to her.

She wanted to stay at Rose’s Flower Shop forever.

But that wasbefore.

Everything changed after that hot August night. That was the hardest day to remember, so Claire did her best to forget it.

But she didn’t want to share all that mental rumbling with Sophie. Honestly, she didn’t talk about her former life in Sunrise to anyone. She might mention Rose in passing once in a while, but Claire never expressed what she really meant to her. She wasn’t sure why. That was then and this was now. They didn’t mix. She didn’t want them to.

Wide-eyed, Sophie waited for an answer. How did Claire know she wanted to spend her entire life working with flowers?

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