Dream On(80)

“What? It’s true.”

“You’re the part-time florist, right?” I ask.

“I would be full-time if my grandkids didn’t keep me so busy. My daughter just had her third in May, and with three babies under the age of four, she needs all the help she can get.” Her crisp laughter tugs a smile from me. “We thought you’d be here earlier. What kept you?”

“I had to stay late at work.”

“Gotta draw lines, honey. Gotta draw those lines. If you don’t, your bosses will walk all over you. Isn’t that right, Perry?”

I peer over Alma’s shoulder through the open door to where Perry is sitting at his desk in the far corner. His lips twitch as though he’s suppressing a smile, and he nods solemnly. “Alma doesn’t let me put a single toe out of line.”

She chuckles. “I’m only teasing. Perry’s one of the good ones. Excuse me,” she suddenly barks, and I jolt. “Don’t think I don’t see you trying to sneak off, Chuck. You’re having dinner at my place tonight and that’s the end of it.”

I’d been so focused on Alma I hadn’t noticed that Chuck had edged past me into the store. He freezes a couple of feet behind me, lips pursed. “Alma, honestly. You don’t have to feed me. I have leftover pizza—”

“Cold pizza for dinner? Not on my watch. I’ve got a pot roast in the Crock-Pot and no one to share it with. I’ll even send you home with some extra for tomorrow. Come on now, no more arguing. Let’s go.”

I step back so Alma can pass me.

Chuck rolls his eyes, but I don’t miss his grudging smile. “Some advice?” he says to me. “Don’t argue with Alma. She’s always right.”

“I don’t know,” calls Perry. “She’s never gone toe-to-toe with Cass. Alma, you might have finally met your match.”

Alma’s eyebrows bounce as she looks me up and down. “Oh really? You must be quite the spitfire then. I approve. I look forward to getting to know you better, Cass. You’ll be at the festival this weekend, of course?”

“Absolutely,” I say.

“See you then. Come on, Chuck,” she adds. “A pot roast waits for no one.” Slipping her arm through his, she tugs him in the direction of the front door.

“Bye,” I call.

Chuck tosses a wave over his shoulder, and they disappear into the darkened shop. Smiling to myself, I step into the back room and plop my bag onto the floor. The door shuts behind me with a heavy clack and my stomach hollows when I take in the full scope of the room.

It’s empty save for Perry… and a mind-boggling number of buckets stuffed with bouquets in every shade from blush white to sunset orange to baby-blanket pink to deepest scarlet. There must be at least thirty buckets crowding the floor, table, and counter space in the back room, filled with countless bouquets. There are even more in the refrigerated units along the wall—likely hundreds of arrangements in total.

I groan despite my awe. “I’m too late, aren’t I?”

“Cass. You’re never too late.” The smile he gifts me sends a tingle all the way down to my toes, despite the rising tide of guilt I feel. Is this always how it’s always going to be throughout my entire career? Personal sacrifices, skipped commitments, and perpetually late arrivals?

Tiptoeing around the buckets, I pick my way through the bins until I reach Perry and plop into the empty metal chair pulled up beside him. I motion around the room. “I mean, I was too late to help you with the arrangements and now you’re done.”

“Don’t sweat it, honestly. You’ve done so much for me already. And besides, I had plenty of help. Marcus and Brie swung by for an hour around six, and between them, Alma, Chuck, and Devin, we were able to knock everything out quicker than I thought.”

“Devin was here?”

“Since five. He just stepped out to grab us dinner.”

“Still, I wish I could have been here too. I would have much rather been making bouquets than doing what I was doing, believe me.”

He wrinkles his nose in sympathy. “Tough day at the office?”

I snort. “Always. But tonight was just…” I make a disgusted sound in my throat and shift to face him fully. “I had to help my boss prep for her trial tomorrow, so we were reviewing depositions and running through her cross-examination questions and I realized… I don’t care. I don’t care that our client was sued by a former employee for wrongful termination because, let’s face it, our client is a scumbag. And the only reason we’re in court to begin with is because he refused to settle, even though he easily could have paid the amount the plaintiff was rightfully asking for. I mean, I know everyone deserves zealous legal representation, and it’s our job as lawyers to present evidence and make the strongest case we can for our client then let the court decide the outcome, but it’s exhausting. Especially when I don’t see how I’m doing much good for anyone except our rich, entitled client, you know?”

“Hmmm.” Perry nods thoughtfully. “It definitely sounds like you had a rough day. Okay, turn around.” He twirls his finger in the air.

“Um, what?”

“Come on, scoot your chair around. Trust me, you need this.” I half stand, and he drags my chair until the back of it is facing him. When I sit, his fingers close around my shoulders. “Perry, you don’t have to… ahhhhrgh, okay maybe just a few minutes.”