Page 47 of Tangled Threats on the Nomad Highway
Shoes on and purse in hand, she made her wayoutside and to the little car that was hers to use, still fussingover the dilemma.Wasn’t like he saw anything important.Joking with him had been the only way she’d concocted to move thempast what had happened. In her mind, the moment had happened,wasn’t a big deal, and they should be just like normal. But aftershe’d peeked into the kitchen and seen him staring into space,she’d just known he was making his unintentional invasion of herprivacy more in his mind.
Since Marian had moved in with her sisterand Bane more than three years ago, her world had expanded inunexpected ways. There was being with her siblings plus theiradd-on family, in the form of the groups living in three houses setclose together. Then had come her job and learning the skillsnecessary to make her efforts at being less of a drain successful.The confidence-bolstering recognition that she was a contributingmember of the household was good.
Another area that had been stunted whileliving with her father was access to TV or shows, or onlineentertainment. His idea of her expanding her brain had been tolearn a new recipe from a lady at church. Marian and Myrt both hadsoaked up various pop-culture classics, and one of those had givenMarian the idea for this morning. It had been the work of momentsto adjust her clothing, and the hardest part had been pretending tobe clueless about his response to her over-the-top actions.
It had been embarrassing but worth everysecond. Einstein’s smile, his laughter, and falling into their moretypical joking comfortable routine afterwards—she’d do it a hundredtimes over, just for that.
Parking behind the shop was effortless afterso many trips just the same, and she hesitated only a moment beforeexiting the car and walking inside.
It wasn’t uncommon for her to check in ondays when she wasn’t scheduled, and she hadn’t been lying to Myrtearlier. The two girls who did the greenery prep for pieces wereboth cheerleaders, which meant they were out as late or later thanthe players.
The only thing hard to predict was NoahPenrose, the owner of Penrose and Peonies. They’d become friendsover her time working for him, and with the information he’d priedout of her during their conversations, he’d be sure to know whyshe’d escaped home this morning even before she opened hermouth.
No time like the present.The soonershe got inside, the faster she’d be able to get her fingers intothe flowers and stop worrying.
Pushing through the back door, she steppedinto a typical scene of happy chaos she’d come to love. Noah’svoice came from the front of the shop, a bouncy, excited tone hereserved for people who were customers but not friends. He’d toldher once that he had to be “on” for certain sectors of thecommunity, fulfilling their expectations of how a gay floristacted. Closer to hand, Whitney, one of the older part-timeassistants, looked up sharply, her face relaxing as soon as sherecognized Marian.
A glance around the workroom revealed herinstincts had been right. The other two spots that should have beenbusy creating arrangements for two funerals today were empty andstill, with nothing in prep.
She stepped close with a quick side-hug forWhitney, who whispered, “He’s in a mood.”
“When is he ever not?” Marian joked back,earning a grin. “I’ll let him know I’m here, then be right back toget started. Get done with that one, and then lay out the workorders for me?” Whitney nodded, gaze already back on thearrangement she’d been working on when Marian came inside.
She pulled the swinging door back and peekedaround it. Noah was behind the counter, which meant he was eitherabout to ring up a sale or had just finished, and by the way theelderly customer was tucking away her wallet in an agonizingly slowballet of movement, they were in the final stages of the exchange.Three people had lined up behind that customer, gift items in theirhands. Each would need packing and wrapping, and she mentallygauged the size of the items as she called out, “Noah, I’m going toget started on things.” Noah’s head whipped around, and he glaredat her, proof of his mood mentioned by Whitney. “Ohhhkay. I’lljust”—she thumbed over her shoulder—“be back here.”
Prepping the necessary items on the packingtable, she left an array of them in the order Noah would need whenhe came back to deal with the process. Over at the flower table,Whitney had placed a fan of printed orders arranged near Marian’snormal station before moving on to a second simple vasearrangement. Marian picked through the requests, sliding a coupleof the easier basket container instructions across the table forWhitney, who didn’t look up, just nodded as she continued workingwith the greenery in her hands.
Then she got to work.
From being certain she’d be hopeless at thejob in the beginning to the self-confidence that drove her fingerstoday, she’d created a lot of arrangements. There’d been simplevases of adorned roses for wives and girlfriends sent as apologiesfrom their partners, as well as elaborate funeral sprays requiringnot only precise placement of the requested greenery stems but alsoan eye towards the critical timing for the presentation. Floristsused ampules of water to keep individual large stem pieces fromdrying, but knowing the flowers would be on display for days meantthey waited until the last minute to actually apply the stock tothe arrangement. Everything was a careful balance of beauty andfunction.
When Noah walked into the workroom with thefirst gift item in hand, she and Whitney had already finished witha couple of the orders. Marian looked up to see the lines on hisface ease and knew she’d done well by ensuring he could see even afew completed items. While not quite feast or famine, like allsmall one-owner businesses, Penrose and Peonies was subject toeconomic swings, and funerals were big business, steady as life anddeath. They might be the only florist directly in town, but many ofthe larger shops in neighboring communities were willing to delivereven though it was a fair distance, and as Noah had often remindedher, they had to remember their customers always had options.
“Hey, bossman.” His grimace made her grin.She’d picked up the phrase from the FRMC members who called Banetheir president, and Noah knew it. “Looked like sales were briskout there.”
“Yes, well. It’s been an okay day so far.”Pausing in front of the packing table, he glanced over hisshoulder. “Thanks, doll.”
“Anything for my favorite guy.” Marian spunthe design she was working on, the turntable moving smoothlyunderneath her direction. The shears she loved to use werecomfortable in her hand, and she used them to cut a new stem to theright length before threading it between the tape stabilizersalready in place on the vase. “I figured the girls would call inlater than normal with their lame apologies.”
“I’m paying you for today.” Noah stopped inthe doorway, hand out to catch the door. “And you’re not going toargue with me about it. I’m in a mood.”
“So I heard.” She kept her retort quiet andwaited until he was back into the front of the shop to grin toherself when Whitney giggled.
It was several hours later before theycaught up with the morning’s influx of orders. The calls anddrop-ins had continued, keeping Noah busy up front and her andWhitney sticking to their normal frantic pace in the back. Asarrangements and vases went through the door to be handed off totheir buyers, Marian experienced the same sense of awe andexcitement she always did. People would be looking at things she’dmade and smiling. With arrangements intended to stay fresh fordays, the work she did today would help lift their spirits for aspan of time they might not otherwise enjoy. Even the funeralflowers were a work of love for her, ensuring that someone’s lovedone was sent off with a visible reminder of how much they’dmattered.
“Marian, you’ve got a visitor.” Noah’ssingsong announcement was followed by the swinging door openingwide. “I’m just sending him straight back.”
Einstein walked into the room, glancingaround at everything before his gaze landed on Marian.
This is new.He’d been in towncountless times since she’d started working at the florist, buteven though the clubhouse was only a couple of blocks away, he’dnever visited.
“Hey.” Not pausing in her work, she cuppedthe rose bloom in one hand, using the thorn stripper with theother. “What’s up?” Moving swiftly through the array of stems infront of her required attentiveness, so she only flicked glances towhere he was prowling along one edge of the room. “Everything okaywith Myrtle?”
“Yeah. Myrt’s fine.” He reached the cornernear the back door and turned to face the room. “You don’t have anysecurity cameras in here?”
Caught off guard, she slipped, and a roguethorn caught a jagged edge against the inside of a finger. “Ow.”Lifting the offending stem, she glared at it before finishingstripping the thorns. “No, no cameras.” Whitney giggled, and Mariangave her a grin. “Why, you planning on doing something bad?”
“No.” He seemed to move between blinks,appearing next to her and holding out his hand. “Let me see.” Hishands cradled hers, lifting. “That’s not too bad.” His thumbcaressed tenderly before bringing her digit to his lips. “I thinkyou’ll live.” Dry heat hit her skin as his mouth molded to herfinger.
