Romantic Interludes Part 4

And then Eros kissed her with such sudden intensity that she forgot what she was going to say.

"I tried to tell him he couldn't wear sneakers to a wedding," Chloris said with a smile and a shake of her head.

Psyche hugged her. She'd grown fond of Chloris over the last few months. "I'm just glad to have you both with us."

The wedding was held in Central Park. Psyche's parents strolled among the guests, arm in arm. Nearly losing their daughter had brought them closer and made them realize just how precious life and love really were. They were getting remarried in the fall.

Psyche had introduced Eros to her parents a few months after she had "escaped" her captors. To her, the time since then had flown by as though it were merely days. She spent nearly every moment with Eros on Olympus, though he returned to earth with her for the charity functions she still attended. Her parents loved him, especially her father, who was thrilled Psyche had found herself a Greek husband, and one who obviously adored her.

This was what the fairy tales meant when they said, "happily ever after," Psyche thought as she and her groom paused to kiss beneath a tree that rained cherry blossom petals on them. Psyche giggled and picked them off her Grecian-style wedding dress, and Eros plucked them from her hair, which was upswept under a crown loaned to them by Eros's aunt Artemis for the ceremony. The little golden bow and arrow pin she wore on her gown had garnered a few questioning glances.

Psyche saw her mother-in-law on the other side of the crowd, surrounded by infatuated, flirting men. Aphrodite caught Psyche's eye and gave her a wink before casting at her son the smug I-told-you-so glance she'd been giving him for the past few months. Eros chuckled and put his arm around Psyche's waist.

Mercury gave Psyche a smacking kiss on the cheek. "Congratulations, sweetie. I brought you a little something." He reached into his suit jacket pocket and withdrew a yogurt container. "It's from my dad."

"Uh, thanks," Psyche said, befuddled as to why Zeus would give her a half-eaten container of yogurt.

Mercury snickered. "Open it."

She did, and beside her, Eros inhaled a sharp breath. Inside was what appeared to be liquid rainbows, a substance that s.h.i.+mmered and sparkled with dozens of colors. "What is it?"

"It's ambrosia," Eros said in awe.

The food of the G.o.ds, that which made them immortal. According to Aphrodite, Zeus was rather stingy with it, probably to keep them from sharing it with mortals as Mercury was doing now.

Mercury produced a plastic spork from his pocket. "Eat up."

Eros took the spork and dipped it into the sparkling ambrosia. He lifted it to Psyche's lips, and she gazed into his eyes before opening her mouth to accept the bite.

"Forever," Eros said, and he pulled his b.u.t.terfly into his arms for a kiss.

Ghostwriter by Lissa Bryan Category: Supernatural Publication date: Oct 11, 2012 ISBN (paper): 978-1-61213-121-4 ISBN (ebook): 978-1-61213-122-1 Summary: Unemployed, with her savings dwindling, Sara Howell thinks things are looking up when she lands a ghostwriting job and rents the affordable island home of her favorite author, Seth Fortner, who mysteriously disappeared in 1925.

Strange things happen, making Sara wonder if Seth ever left. When she finds an old trunk of Seth's letters, she delves into a world she never imagined, filled with love and a family curse it seems only she can break.

http://ph.thewriterscoffeeshop.com/books/detail/69 The End of All Things by Lissa Bryan Category: Dystopian Publication date: January 24, 2013 ISBN (paper): 978-1-61213-141-2 ISBN (ebook): 978-1-61213-142-9 Summary: After a terrible virus ravages the planet, Carly, one of the few survivors, hides in her apartment in Juneau trying to survive the best she can with only occasional forays to gather food. She is discovered by Justin, an ex-soldier intent on making his way to Florida before winter sets in. This is the story of their journey to find a place to begin a new life, and a home in each other.

http://ph.thewriterscoffeeshop.com/books/detail/81 BECKY HATED MONDAYS. She knew that it was silly because Tuesdays were her day off. Other people hated them because they had an entire week of work in front of them but not her. It should have been a good day because the next morning she could sleep in or read a book-do whatever she wanted, but she still hated Mondays.

The problem with the start of the week-in Becky's mind-was that the shop was so quiet. In general, people didn't like to buy flowers early in the week, so she spent most of her time rearranging the perfectly arranged fresh flowers or perhaps doing yet another stock check or else she just daydreamed. Tuesdays were quiet, too, but that didn't bother her because she wasn't there. Only Jilly, the boss, worked that day. The middle of the week saw things beginning to pick up and by Thursday, business was brisk again. Folks often went visiting on a Thursday and they brought flowers to the hostess. Friday was even busier and, of course, Sat.u.r.day they were run off their feet. But not Mondays.

The 1st Monday Today, however, was different. He walked into The Little Flower Shop and the bell over the shop-door jingled. Jilly had decorated the place in an old fas.h.i.+oned style. The bell, for example, looked like an antique. It gave a friendly sort of tinkle as opposed to one of those nerve jangling electric buzzer noises that some places around the town used.

She'd never seen this man in the shop before. He was tall, maybe six foot, and she guessed that he was in his late thirties. His hair was straight but cut short and the same dark brown color as her own. She put her hand to her head. d.a.m.n, she hadn't bothered to wash it that morning. Instead, she'd tied it back in a bouncy pony tail. Oh well, too late now, she thought.

He was staring at their fabulous selection of fresh cut flowers which gave her the chance to stare at him. Nicely dressed, she decided.

He wore a charcoal gray sports jacket that fitted well and wasn't frayed at the cuffs. By local standards, that was well dressed. He had a white s.h.i.+rt, cream chinos. No jeans-nice touch. Becky risked a look down at his shoes. They looked like leather. Yep, he was definitely well groomed. Probably married, she realized with a pang of dismay. It was a simple fact that cute single guys didn't visit flower shops unless they were buying something for a girlfriend or a date. Jilly had told Becky that years ago.

"If you want a job where you're going to meet a guy, you'll have to go work in a men's clothing store in the city," she suggested. "You'll find rich guys in the expensive boutique-style shops and regular guys in The Gap and Target." At the time Becky had laughed. She didn't want to work in a men's clothing store. She loved flowers-everything about them. She always had. The perfumes filled her head and their fragile beauty still took her breath away even after all the years she'd worked for Jilly.

She knew everything there was to know about flowers. They were her pa.s.sion. That, Jilly said, was her problem. Even her boss had outside interests. Of course she loved all sorts of bouquets and arrangements, but Jilly also had a boyfriend named Tom. They played tennis together on Sundays. When Becky wasn't in the shop, she was in her mother's garden tinkering with the flowers and shrubs there.

"Hi, can I help you?" she asked now, pus.h.i.+ng her miserable love life from her mind.

"h.e.l.lo." He looked a little lost. "Um, I'm looking for some flowers."

If she had a cent for every time somebody had said that to her. She suppressed the urge to tell him that she'd already guessed that much. Instead she pasted on a professional smile and decided to find out a little more about the man who had just entered her life.

"For sure," she said. "Is it a special occasion or a special woman?" She tilted her head, trying to make it sound like this information was a professional question and one necessary for her to help him make the right choice.

He looked taken aback. "Oh, a bit of both I guess. She's very special and this is a significant occasion so, yes." He looked more certain now. "Both."

Another wedding engagement, Becky thought to herself but she didn't show it on her face. It was early spring and the engagements always seemed to surge around now. Valentine's Day kicked off the busy time in The Little Flower Shop. Other peaks were Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Hanukkah. She supposed that they were all good times to get engaged but first you had to have a man.

"Okay." She forced another smile. "I think we need a doubly special bouquet." Becky came out from behind the big pine table that they used as a counter and stood next to him as she purveyed all the newly arrived stock. He looked even taller now and broad, but there was hesitancy in his demeanor. He seemed a bit unsure of himself. She was accustomed to this because most men were a little lost when faced with so many flowers. The only ones that were comfortable were her regulars and this guy certainly wasn't one of them.

Inside, the shop was tiny-hence the name: The Little Flower Shop. To one side were a row of three steps, not unlike the ones leading to the stage in Becky's old high school-only much smaller. They'd been custom made for the shop when it first opened, but the older and more worn they'd become, the more charm they had. The shelves were painted a dull pond green color and on each level was a neat line of black buckets. The walls of the shop were a sort of washed out light blue. Jilly had explained long ago, that the interior was meant to echo nature on a subliminal level. Becky wasn't convinced, but she liked it anyway. It felt right for The Little Flower Shop.

"They look nice." Her tall dark stranger pointed to the giant mophead hydrangeas. Inside, Becky s.h.i.+vered but she hid it well. Hydrangeas were so old fas.h.i.+oned. Surely a bunch of scarlet irises would be more fitting with red roses and deep orange zinnias to offset the crimson.

"Okay," she said but then moved quickly, picking out different flowers to put together a magical combination of reds, oranges and some golden yellows.

"Wow, that's certainly a vivid bunch." He looked amused. "But I don't think they're quite what I'm looking for." He pointed back to the mopheads again. "To be honest, I think those ones would be better."

Becky had been in the business long enough to know that the customer was always right, even when he was wrong, so she nodded politely and returned all her precious irises and vivid roses to their individual pails of water. Then she began gathering up the hydrangeas he was so set on. "A cla.s.sic choice. Can I add some Gypsophila to these, to spice them up a bit?" she asked, trying to improve what she thought was actually a rather drab arrangement.

He looked at her and smiled for the first time. He had a lovely smile. His eyes were even darker than his hair-a deep brown color and they crinkled at the sides when he grinned. Maybe he was older than she thought. Becky felt herself smiling back, and then to her horror, she felt her face flush. Oh, G.o.d, I'm blus.h.i.+ng-I'm actually blus.h.i.+ng. What the heck is that about? she thought, trying to shake herself out of it. But the more she thought about it, the more she flushed. Can he see? she wondered in a panic.

"Ye' know. I think they'll do fine just as they are. Thanks." He was stronger now. Was that because he'd seen her blush or he was suddenly a flower expert? No prizes for guessing that one, she thought.

"Okay," Becky said and walked back to the security of her flower counter. If he wanted a very mediocre arrangement, that was his loss, but before she finished, without discussing it, she added some super-sized blades of gra.s.s and a handful of twiggy sticks. Then she wrapped the entire thing in some feather light, lime green tissue paper before finally surrounding the bouquet in clear plastic. All of this she did without asking for his permission, fearful that he'd want it duller. When it was almost done she tied a thick, lime green ribbon around the stems to give it a final flare. If the bouquet was going to leave this shop, she had an obligation to gussy it up to ensure it looked halfway decent.

He pa.s.sed the time by looking around the shop at the other finer and more exotic flowers. Oh, the arrangements she could have made for him, but he went for something soooo predictable and old fas.h.i.+oned. No imagination, she decided, but still very good looking. Becky didn't try to talk with him after her blus.h.i.+ng episode. She was just relieved to feel the heat in her face subside again. With any luck she was no longer as crimson as her dahlias.

He paid cash and was out of her life as quickly as he entered it. Becky watched his perfectly dressed and kinda cute back leave the shop and wondered why a man with such nice taste in clothes would choose such a plain and old-style bunch of flowers. She also wondered why in the world it bothered her so much.

"So what?" she said to the flowers that he'd left behind. "What is it to me if he has no taste? Maybe his wife buys his clothes." Becky cleaned the place even though it didn't need it. "She should probably buy her own flowers, too."

The counter was an enormous country-pine kitchen table. This was where they cut, clipped and a.s.sembled their now famous bouquets. It wasn't a big shop but then, Waylin wasn't a big town. They were a few hours' drive south of Austin, Texas, and The Little Flower Shop did a great business because the girls produced fantastic floral creations. People traveled from other towns to buy Jilly and Becky's flowers. The girls had taken cla.s.ses in flower arrangements and bouquet beautification and they knew their stuff. Their stock was as good as any large flower shop in Texas and they knew how to improve flowers with just the right amount of plain foliage to offset the dominant colors and perfumes. Then they would wrap them in some tone-appropriate tissue paper, perhaps adding some seasonal decor before covering their creations in stiff transparent plastic for protection. When all of that was done, they added a ribbon and sticker to say that the creation had come from The Little Flower Shop in Waylin. Jilly called them works of art and Becky agreed. They were artistes.

To the side of their table, they had a chest of drawers. That's where the cards, ribbons and seasonal knickknacks were stocked. On top of the chest were scissors, knives and the cash register was up there, too.

The first job of the day was to check the stock and get rid of any wilting blooms. Then the water was changed and fresh flowers were added as they arrived throughout the week. They were also arranged in order of color, and Becky thought it was a feast for the senses. Every season the flowers seemed to get prettier to look at and some of them threw a h.e.l.l of a punch in the perfume department. On top of that, she loved handling them and crafting them into imaginative bouquets depending on the occasion. The fact that the flowers were so fragile, and their beauty transient, made them even more beautiful according to Jilly. Becky agreed.

The business managed well for such a tight little s.p.a.ce. Frilly net curtains that covered the lower half of the shop-window meant Becky couldn't see who was coming, even as they walked past the shop front. It was only if they opened the door and came in that she would see them. She'd tried to convince her boss to take the netting down so she could watch the comings and goings of their small town but Jilly refused, insisting that the net curtains protected the flowers from the strong Texas sun but she also joked that it protected the residents of Waylin from Becky's watchful eyes, too.

Becky didn't think that was so funny.

After the stranger's visit, the day dragged by. There were a few bunches bought for Cyndi Parker-an old cla.s.smate of Becky's who had produced a beautiful baby girl the week before. Then there was a lovely bouquet bought for a silver anniversary in town but other than that, Becky had little to amuse herself or regale Jilly with when she came in later that day.

"I wonder who that was, now," Jilly said with genuine interest when she heard about the new man in her shop. She knew most people in town at this stage, as did Becky, so they concluded that it was some attractive stranger who was just pa.s.sing through. Jilly had set the shop up seven years earlier and Becky came to work for her almost immediately. The time had flown by and they had become fast friends. The fact that Jilly was Becky's boss didn't affect their friends.h.i.+p. She acted and sounded like a big sister, which made sense anyway, because she was thirty-five while Becky claimed to be the baby sister at thirty-four years.

Being a flower shop, they knew every bit of gossip in the town-good and bad. It was Jilly who had first pointed this out. People bought flowers to celebrate a pregnancy or a baby's arrival. Sometimes men bought flowers to make up after a fight. Jilly knew that Cyndi Parker's boyfriend was going to propose to her before even Cyndi did because of the huge bouquet he bought. "Well, he was going to either propose or break up," she'd said at the time. Most men lacked the will to buy big bouquets for bust ups-only make ups.

Sadly, it was also how Jilly had discovered that Jack Jennings-Becky's live-in boyfriend-was having an affair. It was a long time ago now, but Becky knew that her boss still felt bad about it. Jilly had been away from Waylin for a few years doing her degree in floral design. She was out of touch despite the fact that she grew up in the town. Jack was not local, but she got to know him pretty well as soon as she started up The Little Flower Shop. Becky knew the story well. Jack came in that very first week. Then he returned a few weeks later and by his third visit, he and Jilly were on first name terms. Jilly wasn't with Tom, her boyfriend back then and she knew that Jack was flirting with her, but he wasn't her kind. It was pretty obvious that he was in love anyway because he was buying a steady supply of red roses. A few months after she was home, she b.u.mped into Becky and Jack at their local seven eleven. Jilly saw no reason to keep it a secret back then.

"My red roses man," she had said when she saw him. Then Jilly turned to Becky. "Your boyfriend here has been a great support to my new business-The Little Flower Shop. You must love red roses!"

Becky looked confused, Jack looked guilty, and Jilly looked at the floor, wis.h.i.+ng it would open. She knew there and then that she had made the biggest mistake one can make in the floral business. She had blabbed. Some weeks later Becky came into the shop. She was thinner and sadder than the woman Jilly had seen in the 7-11 but she sounded strong.

"I want to thank you," she had said to Jilly that day. "I had my doubts, but I was ignoring them. There was no place to hide after we met you. Jack admitted everything and we broke up. He's moved out." Then Becky had broken down in tears. Several cups of tea later, Jilly understood that her new friend's big concern was making the mortgage repayments on their apartment now that Jack was gone. Jilly offered her a job on the spot. She didn't take much persuading to leave her old secretarial position and she had a lot of courses to do but Becky, it transpired, was a natural in the flower business. Seven years later, they were as close as two friends could be, but Jilly often said that she felt dreadful for the way her friend had to find out.

Now the girls made d.a.m.n sure they were very discreet with any information that came their way. They never mentioned a bunch of flowers that had been purchased by a customer outside the shop. They were discretion personified, but that didn't stop them gossiping when they were alone together in the shop. Within the sanctuary of The Little Flower Shop, anything could be talked about-or anybody.

"It wasn't Matt Mahoney?" Jilly asked now having listened to Becky's description of their new tall dark stranger.

"No way." Becky guffawed. "He may have been gone a long time, but I still know what he looks like. Lord, he was one good looking man. No, this guy is older. I think he was in his late thirties. Cute."

"Hair color?"

"Brown."

"Eyes?"

"Same."

Jilly gave a nod of approval.

"In shape?"

Becky smiled. "Heck, yeah."

"Nose?"

"Um, unbroken I think. Yep, it was straight-not too big." She laughed then. She knew Jilly had a thing about noses. She hated big ones and Tom, her boyfriend, had a tiny one.

"Wedding ring?"

"Definitley not. I checked-just before I went as red as a tomato."

"Sounds like you've met your match," Jilly said.

"Funny! No, I'm sorry to say, I really got the feeling he was spoken for."

"Pity he didn't pay with plastic. Then we'd have had his name and been able to Google him or check out Facebook."

Becky shook her head. "No, he used cash. Maybe we could finger print the notes." She laughed.

"It doesn't look too hard on CSI and I'm sure we could get a finger print kit on Amazon."

"Listen to us, Jilly. We sound like s.e.x-starved old women with nothing to gossip about but a new man in town."

"Speak for yourself." Jilly stood a little straighter. "I am spoken for. I was just curious for you. If there's a new guy around you should grab him before somebody else does."

"Jilly, things aren't that desperate and anyway, I'm happy without a man."

"But you thought this one was cute?" Her friend and boss probed.

Becky laughed at Jilly's interrogation skills. It was normal enough between them. Her boss was constantly trying to fix her up with guys she met through tennis tournaments. "If I've told you once, I've told you a million times. Stop trying to find me a man! I can't play tennis-really I can't. You know flowers are my thing. I need to find myself a nice gentleman gardener who I can blossom and grow old with."

Jilly raised her hands in the air. "Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all before and he's the one you might even have a little sapling with. You're such a romantic. I don't think there's any such thing as gentlemen gardeners any more, Becky. Everybody is into technology and computers and the only hedges I hear talk about are hedge funds."

Becky wouldn't be discouraged, however. "Someday, my prince will come." She sighed and looked out at the clear blue Texas sun above the net curtains.

"Well, I'm just sorry it wasn't your Monday man."

"I like that, my Monday Man." Becky smiled at Jilly. "He was a good looker but oh my, what appalling taste in flowers."

"Did it occur to you that they could have been for his mother?"

"I saw his eyes. He wasn't thinking about his mother," she said raising an eyebrow in a sort of a you know what I mean manner.

The next day was Tuesday and Becky relaxed for her day off. She did her normal errands and then found herself walking about the town aimlessly. She surprised herself when she realized that she was keeping a wide eye open for her Monday Man but there was no sign of him. Jilly must have been right. He was just pa.s.sing through town. Pity. She called in on her mother, Marie, for lunch but didn't mention the attractive stranger she'd met. Instead, she focused on Marie's garden which was bursting with the promise of a new year's growth. Tiny buds were well out of the soil now. Some early blooming daffodils had already arrived. Hyacinths were almost in flower, too, and that meant heaven-sent scent.

"Springtime has to be the best time in the yard," Marie said.

"It sure is, Mom." Becky nodded in agreement as she checked the ties on the cherry blossoms. "They'll need to be loosened this season."

"Maybe this will be your year," Marie said then.

Becky groaned. "Seriously, Mom? Not this old chestnut?"

"Well, you're not getting any younger. Springtime is ring time you know."

"Any time is ring time these days, Mom."

"Not for you, it would seem."

Becky bit her lip. She'd never told her mother the full truth about Jack Jennings. She'd never said that he was having an affair with a girl in Austin-that he was driving a hundred miles each way when Becky thought he was working to pay their mortgage. She'd kept all of this from her mother-not out of any loyalty to Jack but because she wanted to protect her mother from the pain. She'd liked him. He'd been good at charming older ladies, well-all ladies it seemed-but he'd certainly worked his magic on Marie, and Becky wanted to leave her mom with that. The only disadvantage was that the woman did go on about him every now and again, lamenting why Becky had ever let such a good one get away.

Becky's father had died when she was young and her little brother was in the armed forces, so that left the women to each other's company. Thankfully, Marie had a good social life in Waylin, so they were able to live separate lives but still see each other a few times a week. Talk of Jack Jennings was enough to make today's visit short and pretty soon Becky was back home.

The 2nd Monday In the blink of an eye, a week had flown past and Becky was back to hating Mondays. That was until the little antique door bell jingled and the Monday Man walked back into her life.

"h.e.l.lo again." She cheered up at his arrival. She didn't need to fake the professional smile this time because she was genuinely glad to see him. It was odd how often he had entered her mind-uninvited-over the week.

In truth, she didn't expect him to come back into the shop but just on the off chance that he might, Becky spent most of Sunday on herself. She gave her hair a special conditioning treatment to make it s.h.i.+ne like it did on all the TV commercials. She soaked in a bath and exfoliated every single inch of her body-not that anybody was going to see most of it, but still. Becky plucked and tweezed anything that wasn't bleached or buffed. She chose three different outfits depending on the weather, which was kind of funny because Waylin weather was pretty steady in the springtime-blue skies all day, every day. Before she'd gone to bed on Sunday night, she'd even bleached her teeth. It didn't seem to make any difference but at least she'd done it. On Monday, she looked as terrific as she possibly could and now here he was-like some miracle-right in front of her. It was all good.