Chapter 28
ABI
“What do you think?” I ask Janey. I spin the arrangement in front of me, trying to decide if I’m done.
“Hmm, it’s all right, I guess. What’s it for?”
“Bitch! This is not ‘all right’. It’s fabulous and you know it!” I counter.
She smiles and points at me. “Then why the hell are you asking me if you already know it’s perfect? Anything by The Abigail Andrews, floral designer to the stars, will be.”
I blush even though she’s teasing me but ultimately play along by resting my chin on the back of my hand Glamour Shots-circa 1995-style as I look off to the right with a smug smile.
“Bitch,” she repeats.
“Thanks.” I laugh. “For real, though, Violet and Archie will be here any minute to pick this up. It’s for a client.” I eye the vase and flowers once more, replaying what Archie said they wanted.
“Fab. You. Luxe. Over the top, big and bold, and huge. Like, I need the Jonah Falcon of flowers type of huge, with purple of every shade from deepest night to the barest kiss of lilac. I’ll bring you the vase because I sourced it to match the candlesticks.”
Well, this definitely matches what Archie said he wanted, though I’d had to Google who the Falcon guy was. Let’s just say ‘huge’ was the right word selection from Archie.
Janey has lost interest in my assessment of the flowers and has taken to clicking on her phone. It kinda irks me until the Bluetooth speakers start playing Prince’s Purple Rain and I realize that she was with me all along.
Janey starts doing some smooth, hip-swaying, sexy moves to the song, and I can’t help but try too. She’s better than I am by a mile, but it’s fun to goof off and giggle in the back while Samantha holds down the register.
“Oh. My. God,” Archie’s voice says from the back door, which we apparently left open because he and Violet are standing in the doorway. Vi’s trying not to laugh, and Archie looks pissed that we didn’t invite him to the dance party.
“Abs, girl. No,” he tells me, grabbing my hips. “Like this,” he hisses, helping me sway.
Laughing, I swat at his hands. “I thought I was doing pretty well!”
He gives me a sad look as he shakes his head.
“I know you did, babe. That’s the worst part.
” He tsks. “You thought that was some grade-A, stripper quality work. Make time to hit the gym with Courtney again. A little Zumba would do you good. Help make all that flex-y yoga worth something. You can’t just stick your ankles behind your head and lie there. You’ve gotta move.”
He demonstrates himself, bending his knees and giving his ass a little twerk. He does a hair flip, locks eyes with me, and then sashay walks across the room. I’ll admit he gave a better performance than either Janey or I did.
“Bravo!” I say dryly with a polite clap. Knowing when I’m beat, I get back to work where nobody can beat me. “Here’s the arrangement.” I hold my hands out wide around the purple monstrosity in a ta-da move.
Vi whistles. “It’s perfect. Great work, Abs. Archie, load it up. We need to jet if we’re going to be on time for our meeting.”
He rolls his eyes at her. “Do you even know the address of where we’re going?” Not waiting for her to answer because it’s a rhetorical question, he snaps his fingers, “Of course you don’t. Because why?” He leans his head to the side, sticking his earring-covered ear Vi’s way.
She huffs. “Because you’re the King of Everything.”
“That’s right. And don’t you forget it.” He points a black-nailed finger at Vi, but then at me and Janey too.
“We didn’t do anything,” I balk.
“Mmmhmm. Not this time.” He picks up the arrangement as Vi requested and calls back over his shoulder, “For reals, you should hit the gym with Court and have your man work out with Ross and Kaede. Let him get to know them.”
That’s actually not a bad idea. “Thanks, Archie!”
“Kisses,” he says through the rolled down window, already behind the wheel to drive Vi to their appointment.
My phone rings next, and I hustle over to my work table to grab it. “Hey, Mom,” I answer.
“Abi, I just wanted to say thank you again for the flowers for the fundraiser luncheon. They were lovely. Several people said so, and I was quite proud to say they were your work.”
Mom’s the best. She really is. When I started SweetPea, I wouldn’t do the flowers for Dad’s office for a while. It felt too much like special privilege and I wanted to earn my way. But Mom had instead offered opportunities to show my creativity in a different way.
With her encouragement, I’d donated dozens of arrangements to every charitable event and gala for over a year, getting my name out there, not as an Andrews but as a floral designer.
People had seen my work firsthand, and when they called on me for paying jobs, it’d felt like my marketing and exposure were paying off, not my name.
Today’s luncheon flowers, a dozen centerpieces Samantha delivered this morning, are a sign of that. I still donate arrangements here and there, but more often, my services are contracted for the galas and events, and I donate money to the fundraiser in support instead of my talents.
That’s what Dad taught me. Do what you love, do it well, and pay it forward.
“Thanks, Mom. I really appreciate that,” I say with a flush of pride. The tinkling bell up front sounds , and though Samantha will take care of the customer, I tell Mom, “Oh, I have to go. I’ve got a bride coming in soon.”
“Of course, dear. Just wanted to say how proud I am of you. You and Lorenzo are still coming over to dinner this weekend, right?”
I nod, though she can’t see me. “Yes, Mom. Love you.”
“I love you too. ’Bye!”
The click gives me permission to laugh. For all the craziness of the one dinner we had with my parents, they seem particularly excited to have Lorenzo come back over.
At least they gave us a solid week of solitude to ‘honeymoon’ at home after our vows.
“Abi, your two o’clock is here,” Samantha says, fighting a smile.
I glance to the clock in surprise. No, I’m not wrong. It’s barely after one thirty. “She excited?” I ask Samantha quietly.
Samantha widens her eyes and holds up her finger and thumb a good inch apart, whispering, “Little bit.”
I smile and wash my hands to go greet our eager bride.
In the front, I hold out my hand to the blonde who’s sitting at our consultation table. She’s dressed impeccably, her hair and makeup flawless, but her heeled foot is bouncing like she needs to pee.
“Abi Andrews. Welcome to SweetPea Boutique,” I tell her.
She smiles and shakes my hand. “Sadie Mason, soon to be Sadie Yi.” I can see how happy it makes her just to say her future name, and her joy is infectious.
I sit down at the table. “Tell me about you and your fiancé, Miss Mason.”
She waves a hand at me. “Oh, you can call me Sadie. You probably don’t remember me, but we went to school together. I was in Courtney’s class.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize,” I apologize, looking at her more closely.
She doesn’t look the least bit familiar, though.
Our school wasn’t humongous, but there were definitely kids in my own grade I didn’t know, so there’s bound to be a bunch from Ross and Court’s grade that I’ve never seen or heard of. “Such a small world.”
She doesn’t seem offended in the slightest, thank goodness. “No big deal. I wasn’t really friends with Courtney either. Different crowds, you know. I was on the math decathlon team.”
Something niggles in the back of my mind. “Didn’t we win state or something around then?”
Sadie beams. “Yep, we did.” She bows dramatically, laughing the whole time. “That’s actually how I met my fiancé too. Math decathlon in college.”
She disappears into her memories for a moment, and I can see on her face that they’re all happy ones. Lucky woman.
Not as lucky as me, but good for her for finding her own perfect man.
Coming back to the moment, she leans forward. “Not to go too high school, but I did hear about what Emily Jones-I-mean-Daniels did at the club.” She says the name like that’s Emily’s actual name now and then shakes her head disapprovingly. “I never did like her.”
I’m not a gossiper, not any more than average human nature leads us all to be. But Emily has always been able to get under my skin. I test my heart and my mind, expecting to find some scab Sadie’s words disrupt. But there’s nothing. I just can’t care about all that long-ago drama anymore.
“I’ll admit, the stuff with Emily won’t make my ‘finest moments’ list, either. But I’m moving on, trying to be better and do better.”
I look down at the small, delicate tattoo on my left hand. Lorenzo’s family said we would need to come to Italy to get his grandmother’s ring, and I’m excited about that adventure and to meet his family.
Sadie holds up her own hand, showing me her large, square-cut diamond with a smile.
“I’m happy, Emily’s happy, you’re happy, and those are the things that matter,” I conclude.
“Wise words,” Sadie agrees, touching her ring. “I’m so glad to have you do my flowers. I feel like if every little detail is done with love, the whole day will be perfect.”
“I will do my best. But the only thing that needs to be perfect is for you and your husband to be standing together. Everything else is window dressing for the really important stuff.”
It might be a weird thing for a wedding-focused person to say, but it’s the truth. My flowers bring detail and beauty to an event, but if the bride and groom don’t truly love each other, there is no number of roses that can save the day.
The bell tinkles again, and the one person I don’t want to see walks in. Meredith Wildeman. She’s got on another of her black suits with heels, her silvery hair frozen in place and her eyes hard.
“Miss Andrews, the flower girl. Believe me, I tried to talk Sadie out of using your services. There are simply so many more talented florists in the area.” She sits down, looking snooty as ever. “Well, show us what you’ve got,” Meredith demands.
The entire mood of this appointment just changed with her entrance. Sadie is now sitting straight-backed with her lips pressed together like we were busted misbehaving by the school principal.
I blink, not at Meredith’s arrogance but that she’s so bold with it. I let wheels churn and cogs turn in my head, trying to channel Dad because what I really want to do is tell Meredith to get the fuck out of my shop and take that high horse she rode in on with her.
Finally, it’s Mom’s practiced calm voice that saves me, with a little Ice Queen Courtney thrown in for good measure. Giving people enough rope to hang themselves is sometimes prudent, though taking the high road is a trait I’m still learning.
Completely ignoring Meredith, I turn to Sadie.
“It has been so good catching up with you, and I’ll tell Courtney you said hello.
Unfortunately, while I’m happy to work with any vendors you might hire, there is one I’m not comfortable contracting with on any event, and that’s Ms. Wildeman.
I’m sure she’ll make your wedding absolutely lovely, and I can recommend another floral designer who will do an amazing job if you’d like. ”
I pause, letting what I said sink in. Lorenzo told me that Meredith threatened to blackball me with her clients, and by the sound of things, she’s definitely trying.
The truth is, I can do the same and choose not to work with her.
I’m an in-demand floral designer with a full calendar of clients.
I don’t need Meredith Wildeman’s clients.
I have never traded on the weight of my last name, and in this, I don’t need to. I have the power and draw of SweetPea Boutique, and that’s enough.
“Hmmph, very well. We’ll be happy to get someone else to do the flowers then.” Meredith’s smile is predatory, victorious at having triumphed over me. To Sadie, Meredith softens. “I did warn you, dear, but there are so many much more talented florists. Let’s go, Sadie.”
Meredith stands but Sadie doesn’t move.
“Uh, no. I want Abi to do my flowers. It’s what I’ve wanted ever since I saw Claire Johnson’s bouquet. It’s what everyone wants.” Sadie looks confused as hell at how her fun flower selection appointment has gone so awry.
I sit back quietly. Sadie seems nice, but this is her wedding. I’ll do the bouquet or not, but either way, I’m not working with Meredith.
“Yes, Claire’s bouquet was lovely, I suppose. And another designer can certainly recreate it if you’d like.”
When that doesn’t sway Sadie, Meredith decides to play hardball. “We have a contract, dear. Perhaps we should follow up with your mother to see about this.” Meredith plays the mom card, and I swear there is steam coming out of Sadie’s ears.
“No need. It’s my name on the contract, and if I recall, there’s a buyout option. Here.” Sadie pulls out her checkbook, writes a check with three zeroes, signs it her damn self, and hands it to Meredith. “Your services are no longer needed, I’m afraid. I’ll be sure to tell my friends.”
Meredith is shocked. So much so that even her eyebrows lift and her forehead wrinkles. “Well . . . I . . . good day, then.”
She might be wrong as hell with her little power play, but I’d be willing to bet she cashes that check at the bank as soon as she leaves.
She strides for the door, looking back once, and our eyes meet.
Game. Set. Match. Bitch.
And I did it with grace, boundaries, and integrity I can be proud of. No bail money or alibi needed.
I don’t know what Meredith has against me, because it’s obviously me and not flowers in general.
But the truth is, it doesn’t matter. She made me out to be something in her head, and nothing I did or didn’t do was ever going to change that.
It’s not that I’m taking my ball and huffily going home but rather that there are infinite playgrounds and we can just . . . not play together.
Though if given the chance, I’d throw a mean dodgeball at her without a second thought.
“Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on your way out.”
Sadie laughs as Meredith pushes the door open a little too hard.
Shit, that was out loud, and I was doing so well! I guess you can take the girl out of the crazy but not the crazy out of the girl.
“Looks like I need a new wedding planner. Got any suggestions?” Sadie says.
“Actually, I do. Courtney had an excellent one whom I’ve seen in action first hand.
And Claire was actually working with another planner before Meredith took over to cover her maternity leave.
I can give you both of their names and information.
I’m happy to work with either, or anyone else you’d like to use if you find someone else is a better fit. ”
Sadie smiles. “Sounds good. Okay, so let’s look at flowers! Do you want to see my Pinterest board?”
“Absolutely,” I tell her happily. “Let’s look at wedding bouquets first.”