Chapter Six
Flower Healer & Fair Hero
Flora darted up the stairs after her walk and went straight to Roman’s room.
Well, she tried.
There was a round nurse with a halo of strawberry blonde hair playing prison guard outside. She shushed Flora after she’d clomped up the stairs and gave her a deeply aggravated look.
“Sorry! I’m here to see Roman,” Flora whispered.
“He’s asleep right now,” she replied flatly.
“Oh… has he asked for anyone?” Flora pressed.
“Elmo and Big Bird,” the nurse replied dryly.
“Well, could you tell him Flora Fairchild was here to see him when he wakes up?”
“If I told him the pope was here, I don’t think it’d have much of an effect.”
Flora tapped her fingers on the banister. “Alright… well… I guess—”
Footsteps at the bottom of the stairs echoed. She felt adrenaline spark through her chest, wondering who was coming. A swish from Clara’s dress and a deep groan from Finn followed, answering her question.
“Right. Well. Thanks anyway. I’ll be going!”
The nurse furrowed her brow as Flora darted across the entry hall and into a side room—
that was being used as a sculpture exhibit, apparently.
She skidded to a halt, almost knocking a huge marble bust off its stand.
“Oh my goodness!” she whispered, catching it right as it teetered dangerously to the left. She grunted. “That’s heavier than it looks!”
Paris had not cured her clumsiness.
Her breath slowly drained as she looked around. Only the Woodhouses would have an entire side room filled with gorgeous sculptures. The Uffizi Gallery in Florence was less stocked. Flora knew from first-hand experience.
She stared for a moment at the inscription.
CANOVA—1790
An Antonio Canova?! Were they serious? Who had a Canova in the equivalent of a coat room? Who—
“Mum, this way.”
Another adrenaline spike. Finn and Clara were literally right outside the door, and she was staring at the sculptures like a nosy neighbor. And a nosy neighbor without any real reason to be there, making her look more like a thief.
With not many options, she opened window and looked to the right. A tall trellis, with a stubborn morning glory vine crawling all over it, laid on the wall. With very few options and very little time, she scrambled out the window and clung to the trellis, hoping it wasn’t rotting or weak.
“Gosh dang it, Flora,” she muttered. “You are better than this!”
She just hoped Clara and Finn didn’t walk into the weird sculpture room and notice that the window was open. Flora consoled herself that it was unlikely that they’d do either of those things.
However, and quite unluckily, Clara and Finn did just that.
“I hate this room,” Finn muttered, as they walked in and closed the door. “It’s so weird.”
Clara ignored him. “I don’t understand why you can’t just buy a ticket and be done with it, Finn!”
Flora rolled her eyes and pressed herself to the trellis. Morning glory was sticky and smelly, and her hands were covered in the sap. Plus, the trellis felt weak, like it was rotting. Just her luck.
“Mum, this is going to take more than a ticket. A ticket doesn’t fix the problem. If he wakes up and feels the same way, then suddenly the ticket or the person brought over doesn’t matter. This is a long game.”
“No, no, no. This is not a game or a business deal. This is a person, Finn, and you’re not good with people. You never have been.”
“And who’s fault is that?” Finn asked flatly.
Clara sighed. “I admit your father and I were a little hard on you, Finn—”
“A little?”
“—but you’re twenty-nine now. People skills are something you must work at yourself. Not everything in life is a board meeting or a phone call or a buy out.”
Silence followed for a moment.
“Trust me to handle it,” was all he said in response.
“I’m trying, but if one thing goes wrong, we’re going to have a crisis on our hands.”
“You don’t think I know that? You don’t think I’ve processed how dangerous this situation is and how careful I must be?
The merger falling apart would literally undo us.
It was a risky move to begin with, but I did it because it was something we’ve been trying to do for years, something dad wanted to do.
I’m usually risk-averse but this was for him.
I want to do right by his memory. And I will not back down from a long-term pipe dream, which is now a reality, because Roman is having a flutter of wills. ”
“I know that, Finn, but I am not sure you’ve grasped the concept. The concept of how people work, how brains get emotional. You think everyone works like you do.”
“I’m not a robot, even though you and dad tried to make me one. And it’s not the concept, it’s the execution that’s going to be a little elusive. But I will manage it, and no one will get hurt.”
Flora wasn’t sure what was going on, but neither of them were happy. Finn especially seemed like he was dealing with something much out of his depth. He didn’t sound as convincing as he usually did.
Flora moved her foot now just slightly…
The trellis snapped instantaneously.
As if it had been waiting for the right moment.
Her foot braced on nothing, nearly sending her falling twenty feet to the ground.
She barely steadied herself in time, hanging for a second by her arms, legs flailing, before regaining her footing.
The trellis swayed back and forth for a moment, loosening from the wall, threatening to crash to the ground.
This couldn’t get any worse.
She saw Gino and Armando rounding the corner with a ladder now. They must have seen from a distance. Bless them, but would it be fast enough?
“What in the world was that?” Clara asked from inside. “Sounded like a cat or something but I had this entire place exterminated for cats. You know I hate cats. That pesky little fat log from next door. What’s his name? Reginald. Yes, Reginald.”
“Maybe it was your new dog, Mum,” Finn joked.
“Don’t get me started on that yapping little thing.
It came with the name Precious, but I want to call it Hades.
Nothing precious about it. Ugly little thing.
Turn it into a cushion. I want to donate it to the assisted living center down the road.
I saw Mrs. Dougherty who runs the place downtown at the deli and she, in no uncertain terms, insinuated that maybe I would take up residence there one day.
Can you imagine that?!” Clara said exasperated.
She walked to the window and stuck her head out.
“Oh my Lord, the trellis broke! And this is my favorite trellis on the entire property. I’m going to have to call Kit Stark about this! ”
“Who the heck is Kit Stark?” Finn muttered.
He stuck his head out the window now too and saw the broken trellis, vines hanging there limply. How had that happened? It’s not as if trellises spontaneously combusted.
“Hello, Mr. Woodhouse.”
Finn looked down.
Gino and Armando—long time gardeners at the estate—stood below with a ladder, smiling and waving at him.
“Hello…?” he called, wondering what was going on. “Are we victims of spontaneous combustion now?”
“Just a little accident, sir,” Armando replied, clearing his throat and looking at Gino uneasily. “It’s an old trellis.”
“Heaven sakes,” Clara muttered. “I swear this house is out to get me. Gino! Contact Kit Stark and see what he can do about it, or suggestions he has.”
“Mrs. Woodhouse, it’s a morning glory vine. One of the worst vines on the planet outside of kudzu. We should get rid of it,” Gino replied.
Gino and Armando kept glancing at each other like they’d killed the trellis. Something was off.
“Well, then take it down, I guess. Let’s put jasmine up instead.”
Armando and Gino nodded. His mother moved back inside, onto the next thing. As she whizzed off to a hair appointment, Finn stayed in the sculpture graveyard and waited at the window to see what would happen.
“Ah, yes,” he muttered to himself. “There she is.”
Flora emerged from behind a tree, her shoulders drooping in relief. “Sorry!” she squeaked to Armando and Gino. “I owe you guys one.”
They were laughing—clearly finding it all funny. She gave them both a high five, now laughing herself. They talked for a moment, the wind hiding their voices, and then she scampered across the grass thinking the coast was clear. Her right shoe had a big white scuff on it. Same color as the trellis.
She was more trouble than he took her for, but it’s not as if he was going to do anything about it.
It just proved that the problem was real.
She’d likely been in the trellis because she was on her way to visit Roman—whether she was climbing up or going down was up for debate.
Finn shook his head and went back to his office. Going to be more work than he thought.
Flora spent the rest of the week showing her photos to every staff member of the Woodhouses and spending time with her father, reading, writing, and listening to music.
“Are you going to go back?” her father asked on that following Friday night. He closed his copy of Emma and watched Flora pack up her camera for tomorrow.
“I don’t know yet,” she replied quietly, shrugging. “I wish I could transport the estate to France.”
“Wouldn’t that be nice,” her father replied. “I think it would take me a rather long time to master driving in Paris.”
“And I’m not sure the Woodhouses would appreciate their lackadaisical living style,” Flora laughed.
“No, they would not, especially Finn.” He laughed. “So, what’s this about you going to Carmel tomorrow?”
“Finn, of all people, asked me to take photos of their home. Apparently, they’re putting it up for sale.
I guess it’s going to be on one of those luxury property websites for the rich and famous, so it has to look nice.
Not sure why he didn’t just hire someone more experienced than me, but a gig is a gig. And Lord knows I need the money.”