"Okay, so what does that mean exactly other than the fact that you've narrowed the time?" Beth said evenly, walking back into the house and downing a glass of water like we were out there putting our lives on the line.
Jumpy, I walk back and forth in the entrance corridor to settle my nerves. "If my theory is right, then this elusive flower man lives somewhere close by. You follow?"
"Yeah, I'm with you," she said, eyes following my movements.
"All right, so if the deliveries are made sometime in the afternoon and we're sure that the person must be from around here, and is most likely watching for my reaction or is somewhere close by then..."
"We just need to find out who's at home on Langston street in the afternoons."
"That's my girl!" I exclaimed, sending her a proud smile showcasing all my teeth.
"And just how are we going to do that?" Beth asked doubtfully, raising a brow.
"There's going to be a neighbourhood association meeting this weekend, I'm sure we can ask around then."
"I do love gossiping with people over sixty and seeing them slide over photos of potential grandsons I can date," she muttered, rubbing her hands sinisterly at the thought.
"Feel sorry for the grandsons," I mumbled, hurriedly casting my eyes to the opposite wall to avoid her piercing stare.
"I guess that's settled. Let's find out what these flowers mean," Beth replied with a touch of coldness in her voice.
I guess feeling sorry for eligible guys after my cousin just broke up with one, is still a sore spot for discussion. Pulling out my phone to dissipate the tense atmosphere, I search for the dandelion like flowers and finally find a match.
"They're called yellow marguerites and represent goodness, friendship, and joy. Aw, that's kinda sweet," I said, my ice cold heart thawing slightly.
"Reality reminder, Rachel. This guy is crazy," Beth snapped, frowning at my glowing face and wistful eyes.
"Right, right. Sorry."
Yet secretly, the butterflies in my gut can't help but flutter.
**********
Saturday rolls in like a hurricane as the spring rainstorms continue to dampen everyone's mood, especially that of shoppers crowding the only place they can think of to pass the time on a dreary and grey day.
Sighing, I hold up the twentieth dress in a fitting room where a woman refuses to set me free from her manicured claws. My faltering frame nearly backs out upon seeing the pile of clothes placed haphazardly on a tiny stool in a corner.
Well, my closing procedure is going to be taken up by me hanging, zipping, and folding every item back. A perfectly fantastic nightmare.
"How about this one? You think it looks good?" She breathed uncertainly, watching my face in the mirror.
"It looks fine," I strained, my mouth aching from the false smile that's been put on display for far too long in her presence.
"Just fine? No, no. Not this one then. Let's try another."
Dammit Rachel! You and your stupid non-complimenting mouth! Just give the woman what she wants!
"What did you think about that top?" she added, circling around in a futile search for the blouse in question and ignoring its obvious location, which is buried somewhere within the disrespectful load she's created.
"I'm sorry, I'm not sure which one you're referring to. Was it the cream one? Or the black top with pavé buttons?" I said lightly, yet internally I'm begging her to end my misery and simply leave...preferably, forever.
"Funniest thing is, I can't remember!" she laughed, throwing her hands in the air in defeat.
You would if you could just have an ounce more of decency and hang everything back!
"Should I help you look?" I offered thinly, averting my gaze from the mounted pile.
"No, you know what? I'll think about it some more before deciding. Maybe I'll go shop around and circle back," fumbling out of the suffocating fitting room, she rushes past me and eyes a few of the small handbags before heading out the doors.
Immediately at her escape, my walkie-talkie sparks to life with static and I can't help but roll my eyes and breathe an agitated sigh. Answering Jane's chirpy voice full of hope, wondering if the customer bought something or even better, everything, I negate and crush her Saturday dreams.
"We need to comp, Rachel! We've got to beat the other stores in the district!" Jane lamented, hearing a curt 'okay' from me without a trace of enthusiasm as a form of a meagre response.
Sadly, the queen of indecision wasn't my worst customer for the day as another woman storms in to try on at least fifteen pairs of shoes that send me and Adam on a wild chase in the back room, climbing ladders to search for the right sizes and committing numerous safety hazards in the process.
Between the wall high boxes filled with shoes and the mini Mount Everest in the fitting room, I'm exhausted by the time I heavily clomp home and nearly crawl across the threshold before collapsing onto a couch where all I feel, are my bruised and battered feet coursing with pain.
"Rachel, is this a bad time?" Gillian whispered, peeking her head from the kitchen where dinner is on its way by the scent of aromatics in the air.
"Sure, what's up, aunt Gill?" I asked winching, straightening to sit up-right.
"I just thought you'd like to know today's delivery. Would you like me to bring them to you? They're quite lovely." Not waiting for an answer, she bolts for the dining room and returns with potted flowers vibrantly purple like the truest shade of violet.
"At least this time he remembered to give you a pot!" Gillian said laughingly, placing her soft hand against my shoulder as I eye them with adoration.
Hate to admit it, but this is exactly what I needed. So much so, that I almost bury my nose in the sweet but sharp scent of their fragrance.
"What are they and what do they mean?" I finally asked.
"These lovely flowers are hyacinths, dear. They mean beauty, power, and peace," Gillian stated proudly, watching me affectionately until a yawn escapes me and I lay back onto the couch amongst all my gifted flowers, their intoxicating petals like a perfume that brings to mind fresh meadows and a feeling of lingering comfort.
"I'm going to unmask you tomorrow, mystery man," I breathed softly. No longer having the will to fight off sleep, I shut my tired eyes closed while a finger delicately touches one of the hyacinths.
YOU ARE READING
Flowers for Rachel
Romance| FEATURED | Every day, Rachel Everheart comes home from her deadbeat retail job to a mysterious delivery of flowers, each bouquet different from the last and with their own intended meaning. Romantic, right? But she doesn't know who the sender is o...
