Page 71 of Love at Teamsgiving
I nod, bracing for the worst.
“It seems someone has played a prank on you.”
Two men approach, toting a machine. It puffs one last gust of smoke.
He explains that someone set up a smoke machine in the shop. “Like the kind for Halloween. Did you arrange to have your salon decorated or?—”
“Someone played a prank on me?”
“It would seem so.”
“Do you have any enemies or?—?”
I shake my head slowly. Miguel wouldn’t have done something like this, not after our kiss and our conversation. I’m quite sure he wants to patch things up, and even though he’s a jokester, he wouldn’t sink this low.
“Mr. Cruz said he saw someone leaving one night early on, before we had our permit, when he’d stopped by to take some measurements.”
Margo says, “Maybe the building owner was taking one last walk-through.”
“There was also the ceiling cave-in shortly after that,” I add.
“These buildings see a heavy snow load in the winter. Plus high winds and storms,” Gracie adds, shuddering, likely recalling having to take shelter during a tornado not long ago.
The fireman says it’s a good thing they didn’t open up the hoses because all our hard work would’ve been ruined.
My insides freeze. Could someone be trying to sabotage me? Who? Why? I glance around but don’t see anything—or anyone—suspicious except Mr. Skelebones, who’s now in the bookstore’s window as if watching the hubbub.
I thank the fire crew and tell them I’ll be in touch if anything else happens.
A van slides behind the fire truck in the loading zone. Referring to a local florist, Margo says, “I think that’s the Love Blooms delivery van.”
“I hired them to do the flowers for the wedding. I hope Taylor didn’t get the dates mixed up.” Still in a panic, I rush over.
Margo adds, “Or locations.”
She and Gracie follow and I wave to the driver.
She holds a massive bouquet of ranunculus interspersed with anemone and hellebore. “Are you Junie Popovik?”
“Juniper,” I correct.
“Says here to deliver these to Junie Popovik.” She checks her clipboard, looks at the address, and then at me.
Margo breezes by me and takes the flower arrangement from her hands. “Thanks, Taylor. Junie appreciates the delivery.”
Gracie points to a card nestled between the flowers. “Looks like there’s a note.”
The fire captain talks to Mr. Cruz and the other guys who have just returned from their lunch break. While the A-2 Carpentry Crew resumes work at the salon, wrapping up the bathroom—bless them because that was nasty—we go inside, doing our best to keep out of their way.
Margo sets the flowers down on the counter.
“They’re beautiful,” Gracie says, inhaling their scent.
They’re the same flowers Miguel and I picked for our wedding. Which, let it be known, were not the red roses, white irises, and green ivy to match the Italian flag Momzilla and Queen Kong selected—though, those would be nice for a winter wedding.
I recall Miguel’s inquiry into Margo’s event planning availability. Does he really want to try again? Do I? I think the answer to both questions is yes, but I’m afraid. What if we fail a second time?
“Read the card,” Margo says, thrusting it at me and drawing me from my thoughts.
