Page 8 of The Brit and the Bridesmaid
“I wouldn’t bet on it. Your sister is very detail-oriented.”
“Tell me about it.” She bent over the darkest red roses growing there, taking a deep breath. The amazing scent answered her question. “These are Mr. Lincoln roses.”
“They are. You know a few things about flowers, yourself.”
"Enough to realize the daffodils and lilies won't still be in blume by the end of June."
Between them, they managed to identify nearly every variety of rose growing around the ceremony area. They likely didn’t need to be that extensive, but Abby was enjoying it. Her family’s eyes always glazed over when she talked about gardening and flowers. Dirk had told her a few times to “shut up about the plants.” While she could tell flowers wouldn’t have been Matthew’s first choice of topics, he was knowledgeable and didn’t seem to mind. It was a nice change.
They timed the walk from the parking lot to the front porch, just as Caroline had requested.
They decided that the ballroom walls were closer to aqua than moss, though Abby thought there was at least a little mint in them. The conservatory, they discovered, did have a placard.
The longer Abby was with him, the more Abby liked Matthew. He had a dry sense of humor and wasn’t nearly as stuffy as she’d thought at first. She wasn’t ready to start throwing herself at him or anything like that. But she liked him.
She liked him quite a lot, actually.
Chapter Four
“She can identify roses just by scent, Mum.” Matt pulled his jacket on while talking on the phone. After a long morning of making arrangements, calming frantic brides, and telling himself the summer rush would be over in only a few more months, he was almost desperate to get away from his desk, if only for the length of a lunch break.
“I very much doubt sheonlyused the scent, Matt. She likely looked at petal patterns and stem anatomy and any number of other things.” Mum knew her flowers; no one would argue that. “But the fact that she could identify them at all is impressive. I like this one.”
“Because she knows roses?”
Mum laughed. “No. Because you’ve mentioned her three times in this one call. If she’s interesting enough to grab your attention, I will happily cheer her on.”
He stepped onto the front porch, grateful for the breeze and fresh air. His office could feel claustrophobic sometimes. “I hateto tell you this, but she doesn’t care for me much. Her obvious dislike didn’t improve much beyond begrudging tolerance when I last saw her.”
“How could she not like you?” Mum always was rather blinded by her loyalty. She never believed anyone could possibly feel anything other than adoration for her children.
“Barney says she probably thinks I’m too posh.” He followed the path leading away from the house. He enjoyed taking a slow stroll around the grounds during the day.
“Posh? Where does she think you come from, Chelsea?”
His family couldn’t afford to look at the houses in Chelsea, let alone live there.
“You just tell her you’re a regular bloke from Stanmore,” Mum instructed.
“I could tell her that exactly, but it wouldn’t mean anything to her. She doesn’t know London.”
“Then you’ll have to show her.”
He pushed out a breath. “I tried when she was here last, but I could tell I wasn’t making a very good impression.”
The scent of pine hung on the cool breeze. Matt could feel some of his stress slipping away. There was nothing like fresh air and the outdoors to clear his mind.
“Have you called her?” Mum asked. “Maybe if you took her out for coffee or something, she might get to see the real you. Somewhere away from work.”
“I don’t have her number.”
“So call the sister, the one getting married.”
Mum and Barney were both crazy. “I can’t call a client asking for personal information about her family members.”
“Why on earth not?”
“For one thing, it’s unprofessional.”
