Page 17 of A Future in Blossom

—Mehmet Murat ildan

TESSA

The bride and groom were late. As soon as they arrived, the Opposite Wedding at Tessa’s nascent flower farm would begin. Tessa had been so absorbed in the greenhouse—first, the process of getting it installed onto the slab foundation, wired for electricity, plumbed for water, and then transformed into a winter wonderland—that she hadn’t given much thought about the actual clients for her flower farm’s first official event. That probably sounded harsh, but it was the truth. Jaime was in charge of handling the clients.

And then the first guests started to arrive for the wedding. Waves of nervousness crashed over Tessa, one right after the other. The bride had never seen the venue but through pictures. Would she like it? Was it what she had in mind? This was one of the most important days in a woman’s life. She would remember this day forever. And then there was the groom, albeit he was a vague partof this story. For the first time, Tessa felt the weight of all that this day represented for the bride and groom, and her stomach churned. How did Jaime and Liam do this all the time without getting ulcers?

Tessa breathed in through her nose and slowly out through her mouth, over and over. Calming down, her gaze swept the still-unnamed flower farm. The land that surrounded the greenhouse looked amazing. The dumpster had barely left the property when Dawson, impatient to get started on preparing the soil for spring, had planted a cover crop of clover—or what he called green manure. The unusually warm autumn weather had helped the seeds sprout quickly, and the ground surrounding the greenhouse looked like a carpet of green velvet had been rolled over top. The wedding ceremony would begin as the sun was low in the horizon, and the gentle lighting of the greenhouse glowed a buttery yellow, beckoning people to come in. Welcoming them. Setting the stage for something wonderful to happen.

But it was inside where the magic had happened. Jaime and Liam had transformed the plain, modest glass-sided, glass-roofed greenhouse into a botanical garden. The scene was beyond anything Tessa or Dawson could have imagined. Hanging plants from the roof rafters, large potted plants tucked against the walls that softened the edges of the greenhouse, especially as the sun disappeared. Glass at night could look so cold, but this greenhouse was enveloped in warmth and light. Strands of bulbs draped down from the open rafters. Most of the light came from chandeliers that hung from the center rafter. Warmth came from a heater that had been installed by the electrician yesterday afternoon—not a minute too soon.

The greenhouse had been divided into two sections, fore and back, with the ceremony closest to the entrance, in the front. The dinner reception and dancing had been skillfully hidden behind a wall of fiddle-leaf fig trees in the back. Long rectangular tables and chairs had been brought in for the guests and bridal party,with a dance floor in the center that now held a small round table with a wedding cake.

To Tessa, the venue was breathtaking. Stunning. It still amazed her that Jaime had envisioned the entire winter wonderland scene while it was still so bleak—a basic slab foundation surrounded by brown dirt. And that vision, with a lot of hard work, had come to be!

This morning, while moving in potted plants that had arrived from a supplier in Asheville, she’d shared that thought with Dawson. “Jaime’s imagination is way beyond anything I’d ever known in her. And then ... wait until you see Claire’s table arrangements. Or the bridal bouquet. I’ve never seen anything like it. Full of unusual sprays of foliage that Claire foraged in Sunrise. Things that never, ever would have occurred to me to put into wedding flowers, like silver dollar eucalyptus and hypericum berries. She found them on her way to work and foraged them! They’re absolutely gorgeous, Dawson. Sometimes I feel like I’m in the presence of two flower geniuses.”

Dawson had been carrying in a potted lemon tree from the truck, while she held a potted hibiscus, and they set them down in a corner of the greenhouse. She wasn’t even sure he’d been listening to her, but while seemingly admiring the glossy leaves of the lemon tree, he quietly said that she’d done the same thing when she saw an empty field and imagined it full of flowers. “Three flower geniuses,” he said.

She came up to him from behind and put her arms around him. “Thank you, Dawson. Thank you for everything.”

He didn’t say anything in return, which was typical of him, but he did put his hand on top of hers and squeezed.

twelve

Love is like a beautiful flower which I may not touch, but whose fragrance makes the garden a place of delight just the same.

—Helen Keller

JAIME

The wedding guests had arrived and were seated in the greenhouse, waiting patiently for the bride and groom, who were quite late. Jaime tried not to let her mind get away from her—could the bride have fled the scene once again? At the twenty-minute mark past the time the ceremony should’ve started, she pulled Liam aside. “Has she vanished?”

“Nay,” he reassured her. “No doubt they’re on their way.” But he didn’t look as confident as he sounded. “Perhaps, if she’s not here in ten minutes, we should offer the guests a bit of libation, though.”

“Good idea.” So Jaime went to Tessa’s Airstream to see if the caterer had brought extra champagne. Inside the tiny space, the caterer and two helpers were preparing trays of appetizers. As soon as the ceremony ended, the reception would begin. It was such atight space to work in, yet the caterer Liam had found in Highlands seemed to know exactly how to maneuver small spaces. Just as she was about to ask for champagne to be brought to the patient guests, she heard Liam call her name. He was waiting for her right outside the Airstream with a big grin on his handsome face.

“The bride is nearly here. Ready?”

Just then, an old orange Volkswagen bus rumbled up the road and came to a stop in front of the pathway that Dawson had created. Jaime exchanged a look with Liam that said so much. This was the moment of truth. Had they captured the bride’s opposite vision? And if so ... would the bride’s mother throw a hissy fit?

Jaime took in a deep breath, bracing herself for whatever reaction she was about to encounter. “I’m as ready as I can be.”

“You’ve been ready for years,” he said. “It’s showtime.” With his hand on Jaime’s elbow, they walked over to greet the Volkswagen bus. Something about his warm touch on her elbow gave her a sense of reassurance. Along with a sense of longing. What would happen to them after tonight? Would Liam return to New York City and forget about her again? She shook off those stray thoughts.Not now, Jaime. Don’t start that now.

Mr. Zimmerman, a jovial man, hopped out of the driver’s side and hurried around to slide open the bus door. He smiled at Liam and Jaime, like today was the best day of his life. “Here comes the bride,” he said in a thick Bronx accent. “And the groom too.”

First out of the bus came a young man who looked like he spent his days surfing. Long, sun-streaked blond hair, deeply tanned, wearing a Tommy Bahama short-sleeved shirt, khaki shorts, and sandals. He paused when he saw the greenhouse and let out one word in a relieved exhale: “Coooool.”

Okay, Jaime thought to herself, a smile frozen on her face.Okay. The groom seemed happy with the venue. The bride’s father seemed happy that the day had arrived. Two down, two to go.

Next came the bride. It took help from both her dad and her groom to help her out of the bus, and she grimaced with eachmovement, batting their hands away in annoyance. Strangely enough, the irritated look on the bride’s face reminded Jaime exactly of the bride’s mother, Mrs. Zimmerman. It dawned on Jaime that as desperately as the bride tried to be everything opposite of her mother, she was becoming her mother!

But then the bride saw the luminescent greenhouse. She stopped suddenly, and her face softened, and she burst into tears. She grabbed Liam’s hands. “Thank you, thank you.”

Happy tears! Thank goodness. Jaime let out a sigh of relief. Three down. One to go.

The last one out of the VW bus was Mrs. Zimmerman. Jaime hadn’t seen her since last spring, back in New York City, as the final touches were getting decided for her daughter’s original wedding. This woman could put a chill down anyone’s spine, and today was no different. She’d been sitting in the passenger seat of the VW, grimly facing forward.

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