Save the Date

Chapter 24

24

Jack ran past the town house on Jones Street three times the following Sunday morning before he finally worked up the nerve to stop.

“This is stupid,” he muttered, slowing to a walk, as he approached the house. He looked down at Shaz, who was panting heavily. “I could just tell her you need a drink. She might turn me down, but she would never turn away a thirsty dog.”

Shaz seemed to agree. In fact, as soon as they got in front of the stoop leading up to the shop, she abruptly sat, and refused to be moved, no matter how hard Jack pulled on her leash.

He wound the leash around the wrought-iron window box beside the door and rang the bell, shifting nervously from one foot to the other as he waited.

“We’ll just act like we were passing by, and decided to stop on the spur of the moment.”

Five minutes passed. He looked down at Shaz, who didn’t seem perturbed by the delay. “Maybe she’s at church.”

Shaz gave him a baleful stare.

“She could have gone out to brunch. Like a date or something. Or out of town for the weekend.” They heard a short, excited bark then, coming from the other side of the door. Shaz stood now, her ears pricked in excitement.

Finally, the paper shade on the glass shop door was pulled up. Cara Kryzik looked out at them, bemused. She wore shorts and a tank top and her hair was wrapped in a towel.

“Or maybe she was in the shower,” Cara said, opening the door. Poppy stood directly behind her, peering around her legs.

Jack felt his face redden. “You heard, huh?”

She pointed upward. He took a step back, off the stoop, and saw the open window directly above the stoop. “My bedroom. When that window’s open, I can hear everything out on the street. It can make for some pretty interesting nights.”

“You don’t have air-conditioning?” It was the best comeback he could think of.

“Not right at the moment,” Cara said. “It’s on the blink, which is not at all unusual. I’ve been calling the landlord for two days, but she hasn’t called back. If I don’t hear from her by tonight, I swear, I’m gonna buy myself a window unit and deduct the cost from my rent.”

“You should,” Jack agreed. “It was in the high eighties last night.”

***

“It was in the low nineties upstairs,” Cara said. “Did I hear you say something about some water for Shaz? And how about you? I could fix us some iced coffee?”

As she’d promised, the interior of the shop was steamy. While Cara disappeared into a small kitchenette, he looked around.

It was a small room, no bigger than his living room on Macon Street. But she’d hung a dozen old mirrors on the exposed brick walls, and they made the room look larger. There was a large zinc-topped worktable, a small antique table with three chairs in a bay near the front window, a glass countertop with a cash register, and a large glass-doored cooler full of buckets holding flowers. An alcove hid behind a half-opened curtain, and he could see a desk stacked with papers, a computer, and a phone.

“How’s your friend Tommy?” Cara called from the kitchen.

“Alive.”

“Thanks to you.”

“He was passed out cold by the time I got him home. It was all I could do to unload him from that Camry and dump him on a lawn chair under the carport. He left a pretty sheepish message on my answering machine the next day. I think the experience might have helped him sober up—and grow up—a little.”

“And how did you get back to town to your truck?”

“I texted Ryan and he gave me a ride.”

Cara came out of the kitchenette holding two tall frosted glasses of iced coffee. “Let’s take the drinks and the dogs out to the courtyard garden. I’ve got dog bowls out there, so Shaz can have that water you promised.”

He followed her down a narrow hallway, passing a stairway that led to the upstairs apartment, and a closed door that he guessed held a bathroom.

The garden was a surprise. There were a pair of tall palm trees at the back of the garden, and these were underplanted with lush banana trees, hydrangeas, hostas, ivy, ferns, and a dozen more plants whose names he didn’t know. A walkway of mottled Savannah gray bricks bisected the planting beds. She set the drinks down on a teak table shaded by a large market umbrella, and motioned for him to take a bench opposite the one she sat on.

“Nice,” he said appreciatively. “But I guess it makes sense you’d have a great garden, you being a florist.”

“It’s my escape hatch from reality,” she said. Poppy found a place in the shade of the umbrella, while Shaz roamed around, sniffing the plants, until finally spotting the aluminum bowl of water near the hose bib.

Jack took a sip of the coffee, but he was still studying her garden. There was something different about it, and it took a moment before it dawned on him.

“No color,” he said, nodding slowly. “Except white. It’s all white and green. And a little bit of yellow.”

“That’s right. I’m around color all day. I love it, but when I get away from work, my eyes need to rest. I find green and white really soothing.”

“Very soothing,” he agreed. “And it feels a lot cooler than I’d expect.”

“That’s the plan.”

He cleared his throat. “I had a call from Libba Strayhorn yesterday. She wants to talk to us about doing some work over at their place in South Carolina. I guess I have you to thank for that.”

“She’s a nice lady, and they’ve had some bad luck with contractors.”

“So I heard. My family’s known Mitch and Libba for a long time, you know. From when they lived in Ardsley Park. Harris was two years behind me in school, and Holly must be in her mid-twenties by now. I’d lost track of them, after they sold the house in town and moved over there full-time.”

“Have you been to Cabin Creek?”

“Not in years, since we were little kids. She said something about fixing up the old barn?”

“That’s right. Their son’s wedding is July sixth, and the hope is that we can have the after-party in the barn.”

He wrinkled his nose. “A wedding? In a barn? In July?”

“They moved the horses to a new stable several years ago, and once they clear out all the junk that’s accumulated there over the years, and you get the roof patched up, it’ll be great,” Cara said.

“Kinda hot.” Jack fanned his face with his hand.

“We’ll bring in air conditioners.”

“Ryan and I are going over there tomorrow to check it out,” he told her.

“Speaking of weddings.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “Where were you last night?”

“Last night? I dunno. Home, I guess. We worked late, finishing up at Ryan’s house. Why?”

“I did the flowers for a wedding—and you weren’t there. I thought you went to every wedding in Savannah.”

“Who got married?”

“Emily Braswell and Rob Mabry.”

He shook his head. “Never heard of ’em. They must be new in town.”

“As a matter of fact, her father was just transferred here last year by the Army Corps of Engineers. And the groom is from Macon.”

“Then that explains it. Nice wedding?”

Cara leaned over and picked a dead frond from a fern, crumbling the browning leaf between her fingertips. “It was okay. Bert and I give them about a fifty-fifty chance.”

“Of what?”

“Surviving.” She shrugged, and one of the skinny straps of her tank top slipped off her shoulder. She left it there, and it distracted him for a moment, affording him a tantalizing glimpse of the pale skin of her upper breast.

He looked away, and then back, and by then, she’d adjusted it. Too bad. It was a nice view. Nicer even than all these cool green and white flowers. Now, what had he been about to say? Oh yeah.

“You rate their marriage chances? That seems pretty cynical.”

“You see as many couples as I do, work with as many crazy brides and overbearing moms as me, you’d be cynical too,” she said calmly. “I’ve only been in business for myself two and a half years here, and I can’t tell you how many couples don’t even make it to their first anniversary.”

Poppy stirred, getting to her feet and staring intently at the brick wall running along the back of the courtyard. A squirrel paused there. Shaz saw the squirrel, too, and both the dogs went bounding toward their intended quarry. Instead of scampering away, though, the squirrel held its ground, chattering angrily at the two dogs four feet below, who were now balancing on their hind legs, whimpering and pawing ineffectively at the brick.

“Shaz!” Jack called. “Down!” The dog ignored him.

“Poppy! Leave that squirrel alone,” Cara added. “I swear, it’s the same squirrel. He does this every day, just to torment poor Poppy.”

After a moment, the squirrel, bored with the contest, took off again, and the dogs, defeated, ambled over to the water bowl, where they took turns drinking, until the empty water bowl clanged loudly against the brick walkway.

“Just out of curiosity, why do you refer to the squirrel as a he? Did you see something I didn’t see?”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Cara said crossly. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m a man-hater. That’s why I think all marriages will inevitably fail, and why all annoying squirrels must be male.”

Jack laughed despite himself. “What was wrong with yesterday’s couple? Why are they doomed?”

“For one thing, the groom was unbelievably domineering. He had to have a say in every detail. He even picked out Emily’s gown.”

“That’s unusual?”

She stared at him as though he’d grown a third eye in the middle of his forehead.

“Are you kidding? Yes, it’s unusual. There’s an old superstition that says it’s bad luck for a groom to see the bride’s dress before the wedding.”

“Or?”

“Or his testicles will turn black and fall off. I don’t know, Jack. I just know this guy was controlling and domineering, and it doesn’t bode well for the marriage.”

“I see. Anything else? So, he’s the only one at fault?”

“No, of course not. After all, Emily allows him to boss her around about all this stuff. When she gets fed up, she sulks and then cries. Buckets and buckets of tears.”

“Oooh.” Jack grimaced. “I hate a crier.”

“Me too!” she exclaimed. “But it’s an occupational hazard with my job. Now that I think of it, I’ve only done flowers for one wedding that that didn’t involve at least one tearfest or temper tantrum.”

“And that was?”

“Last Friday night’s wedding, as a matter of fact. Maya and Jared.”

He nodded. “I don’t know Jared that well. He only worked for us a year or so. But Maya’s always been pretty chill. So, how did you guys rate their chances?”

“Mmm. Bert and Maya have been best friends, forever. He gives them a hundred percent. Says he’s positive they’ll make it.”

Jack studied her face. “But you’re not so sure.”

“Shit happens. People change. What seems like a sure bet, suddenly turns into a sucker bet.”

“Is that what happened to you?”

Cara didn’t answer. She got up, turned on the hose, and refilled the water bowl. On the way back to the table, she paused to right a flowerpot one of the dogs had upended.

“Cara?” He said it gently.