Chapter 1 #3
“Well, I suppose it’s good that you’re available,” I say sweetly to Meredith. She hears the barb as I intended. You must not be that good if you weren’t already booked and could step up last-minute.
“Let’s take a look at your work, shall we?” she clips out. I have no doubt that whatever magical floral design I’ve created, she’ll find fault with it.
It’s been only a few minutes, but I’m having a visceral reaction to Meredith, something she seems to return tenfold.
I’m not for everyone, I’m aware of that, but I’m simply not sure what I could’ve already done to warrant her reaction to me.
She, on the other hand, seems pretentious and catty, cold, and snooty.
Janey appears at my elbow, and I smell the lovely bouquet before I see it.
Claire focuses on it immediately and gasps out, “Oh, my God, it’s perfect!
Exactly what we talked about—a taste of the islands, right here at home.
Can I hold it?” She reaches trembling hands out, and Janey transfers the bouquet to her as though it’s a precious newborn baby.
Claire buries her nose in the roses, sniffing deeply. “Mmm. Perfect.” And then she looks at me, that happiness in her eyes and smile on her face that I live for. It’s the stamp of approval I was hoping for.
“I’m so glad you like it,” I say encouragingly.
“I love it,” Claire agrees, her eyes dropping back down to the flowers as though she can’t bear to not look at them.
Meredith taps a red nail to the screen of her tablet.
“While certainly pretty, that’s only one bouquet.
The contract calls for several arrangements.
Are the rest ready? We are on a tight timeline.
” That last bit is said to Claire, a reminder that they have somewhere to be other than my little flower shop.
“We’ve already made arrangements with Casa Del Mario,” I offer Claire and Meredith. “I don’t want them premade so that they’ll be perfectly fresh and ready. As for tonight’s, they’re already boxed and ready. I assure you, they’re each just as lovely.”
Claire shakes her head, her smile saying that’s not needed.
“They’re gorgeous, Abi. Truly, thank you.
” She’s slow to hand the bouquet back to Janey, who’s holding up a vase with a special vertical box to allow for transport without bruising the delicate petals.
Once the flowers are out of her hands, she switches back into get-shit-done mode.
“Meredith, do I have time to call Cole while we load up? We’re still working on our speeches for tonight. ”
Meredith nods serenely. “Of course. Use the privacy in the car while I handle this, dear.” She sounds almost motherly, gentle even, right up until Claire waves and walks out the door.
In what I’m guessing is more her true manner, Meredith snaps, “Chop, chop, girls. The flowers won’t load themselves, now will they?
” Her face is stone still, but I swear I see glee dancing in her eyes.
I grit my teeth. I’m definitely not a girl, nor am I her employee to boss around. But Claire is worth dealing with Meredith’s attitude. The publicity alone for this wedding is worth dealing with a hundred Merediths.
At least that’s what I tell myself while we load white boxes into the SUV and make the driver promise to go slow and easy on the drive even though we’ve packed the flowers for safe transport.
Meredith does have us open a few of the boxes to peek at the arrangements, something I completely understand but that still irks me given the rest of our meeting. “They are rather . . . colorful, aren’t they?” Colorful sounds like code for ugly as sin.
“Yes, as the bride requested. Beautiful, vibrant flowers to represent the island destination and the wedding’s color palette.” It’s the description Claire herself gave me at our first meeting to discuss her wants, tastes, and floral dreams.
Meredith’s hum is loud with disapproval, even though it’s quiet in volume. “If you’re done, we do have places to go, Miss Andrews.”
Again, she says my name as though it’s physically repulsive for her to do so. What the hell?
Did Dad buy up her family’s land or something?
Did Ross not call her daughter back after a hook-up?
That would’ve had to be years ago because he’s been locked down with Violet for a long time now.
Or is she just averse to me in general because of my family’s wealth?
That happens sometimes—the same way people will want to befriend you because you come from money, other people are instantly hateful toward you, as though I have anything to do with my dad’s success.
“All done, Meredith,” I say with a well-practiced smile. I use her first name intentionally, putting us on a more even playing field and letting her know that I’m not intimidated by her.
I am. But showing weakness isn’t how the game is played. I learned that from Mom and Dad, and it’s a lesson I won’t forget. My name might come with some baggage, but no matter what, I’m an Andrews and damn proud of it.
Already turning away before Meredith can respond, I wave and offer a genuine smile to Claire through the SUV’s tinted windows. She rolls the window down, phone still pressed to her ear. “I’ll see you in Aruba, Abi. Thanks again!”
After they pull out, Janey and Samantha pepper me with questions.
“Who the hell was that?”
“What’s she got against our Abster?”
“Need me to kill her and compost her body out back?”
That one was Janey, which doesn’t surprise me. We joke that she’s my work wife, and as such, she takes care of me very well. It’s not one-sided, though. I take care of her and Samantha too. Like now.
“I have no idea what that was all about. What I do know is that we are free and clear for the night. I’m exhausted and still need to pack for this work week in Aruba.
Let’s call for Chinese food and take it home.
I’m ordering you both to curl up on the couch, eat dinner, and take a relaxing bath. I think we’re going to need it.”
Samantha nods, likely taking mental notes of exactly what I said and in what order because she will actually follow instructions.
She’ll do well next week while Janey and I are gone, though I might have Violet stop by to check in.
But that’s more about my being nervous about leaving my baby in someone else’s hands than it is about Samantha’s capabilities.
“So what I’m hearing is get drunk, get laid, and pack some Xanax to deal with the Wicked Witch?” Janey smiles as she ticks off her to-do list on her fingers. “And we get overtime pay for this too, right?”
“Pushing it, girl,” I say in a tone that mimics Meredith’s.
Janey’s brows jump together and her head is a heartbeat away from circling on her neck.
“Kidding, just kidding.” I sigh. “But really, let’s get out of here. I have a feeling the next week is going to be long and hard.”
“That’s what my night had better be,” Janey retorts.
I laugh, but secretly, I wish my night were going to resemble Janey’s and not simply be me having a solo fashion show to pack my suitcase with acceptable options for both work and hopefully a small amount of play in Aruba.
Speaking of play, I make a note to myself—pack my purple friend because fuck knows, it’s the only thing giving me a long, hard night these days.