Kelly stopped outside Tippy’s and caught herself as she raised her hand to hail a cab. She was quite positive the city’s cab drivers would take no pity on her when she tried to explain that she’d left her purse with Nick and she was certainly good for the money if they could just wait until she got it back. The thought of walking all the way to mid-town and then back to her apartment made her already aching feet hurt worse. She sighed. The lead would have to wait.
Fifteen blocks later Kelly was ready to swear off anything but sneakers as she stepped out of her shoes and padded barefoot up the walk to her building. Shifting The Book and her shoes to one hand she knocked on the glass door and smiled sweetly at the security guard at the desk, silently pleading with him to open the door.
“Forget your keys, Kelly?” he asked as he pushed open the door.
“Not this time, Eddie,” she replied. “I left my purse with the cops.”
“Oh?” He grinned. “What’d they haul you in for this time?”
She swatted at him arm and said, “Very funny. Think you can be so gracious as to loan me my spare until I get my purse back?”
“Hmmmm… I could,” he said, “But there was a delivery for you while you were out. You may want to check it out first.”
“Delivery?” Kelly raised an eyebrow and followed Eduardo over to the desk that doubled as security and reception.
“Yes. And I wasn’t going to let him in,” he said, leaning over and fitting a key into a locked cabinet behind the desk. “He looked like a ruffian, all in leather and holding a motorcycle helmet.” He muttered and jiggled the key in the lock until it finally twisted and the door popped open. “But then he flashed a badge.” He smiled triumphantly and pulled out Kelly’s purse. Presenting it to her, he said, “Said you might be needing this.”
Kelly laughed and took her purse from Eduardo. Then, to his utter surprise and embarrassment, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Eddie, you are a prince!” In her dash for the door she missed Eduardo’s bright red blush and incoherently stammered reply.
Cabs seemed to be in abundance for a busy Saturday afternoon and Kelly easily waved one down. Hopping in she placed her shoes on the seat next to her and said to the driver, “Bella Flor, Fifth and Lenox, please.”
It took far less time to drive to the florist shop, even with the afternoon traffic, than it would have to walk, and by the time they arrived Kelly’s anticipation overrode the ache in her feet. She slipped her shoes back on, paid the driver, and stepped out in front of the shop.
Bella Flor was a high-scale, trendy flower boutique that catered to the upper crust clientele of Baldwin City. There was a picture of its sign with its trademark daisy replacing the “o” in Flor on a page in Erin’s book. Written beneath the picture were the names of no less than a dozen weddings that had taken place at St. Stephen’s in the past year. Among them were all of the missing ring weddings.
Snapping the book shut, Kelly strode confidently forward and gripped the handle of the door. She stopped before pulling it open, however, and checked her reflection in the glass. Her shoulder length brown hair was still artfully tousled, the shorter, highlighted layers and bangs falling at various angles giving her a shabby chic appearance. Her lightly applied makeup, neutral and barely there, appeared perfect in the dim reflection, not even a smudge of mascara or liner around her wide blue eyes to suggest she’d already had an eventful day. Though mostly knock-offs and online specials, her trendy black Capri’s and layered black and white tank tops, complimented with long silver chains and matching bracelets, gave the appearance of casual sophistication. She nodded at her reflection. “It’ll have to do,” she said as she pulled open the door.
“Welcome to Bella Flor,” she was greeted by a rail thin, pretentious looking woman with short, slicked back, bottle blonde hair. “May I help you?”
Kelly smiled brightly at her and replied, “I’m interested in talking to your bridal designer.”
The woman looked her over with an arched eyebrow as if trying to determine whether she was worthy of getting married at all. Apparently satisfied, she held out a hand and motioned to a nearby counter. “This way.”
As they approached the counter Kelly recognized the florist from the wedding the day before. Though she looked far more relaxed now, it was undoubtedly the same harried looking young woman who brought the boutonnières at the last minute. She smiled warmly at Kelly as she approached and Kelly couldn’t help but feel that she seemed rather out of place in the ostentatious shop. She was dressed modestly, her mousy brown hair cut in a bob that, while not unattractive, didn’t fit with the more haughty, stylish looks of the other girls.
“Thank you, Portia,” the young woman said to the blonde as they stopped in front of the counter. Rather than reply, Portia turned on her heel and walked away. Shrugging, the florist said, “Welcome to Bella Flor. I’m Lena. How may I help you today?”
“Lena,” Kelly replied with a smile. “Didn’t I see you at the Ford wedding yesterday? I thought the flowers looked like they came from here.”
Lena flushed. “Yes… yes they were…” she stammered in reply.
“Of course they came from here,” Kelly waved a dismissive hand. “Everyone knows all the best wedding flowers are provided by Bella Flor. Didn’t you do the March wedding as well?”
“Yes, we did…” Lena paused and turned a scrutinizing gaze at Kelly. “Wait a minute… I know you. You’re Kelly Suade. The journalist.”
Kelly grinned sheepishly. “Yes, I am.”
Lena’s demeanor changed with Kelly’s admission, her friendliness turning cold, businesslike. “We make it a habit not to discuss our clients with reporters, Miss Suade.”
Think fast, Suade, she thought. “Oh, no, you misunderstand!” Kelly said quickly, placing a hand on her chest and flashing a dazzling smile at the florist. “I’m here… um… looking for flowers for me.”
“You?” Lena looked skeptically at Kelly, then pointedly at her empty left ring finger.
“Yes, me,” Kelly replied. She was trying to come up with a plausible story when the door to the shop opened and caught the eyes of several of the women in the shop, including Lena’s.
In walked a man who looked better suited to the country club than a flower shop. The word divine popped into Kelly’s mind as he stepped through the door, the sun at his back setting his golden hair ablaze and outlining the tall, muscular build that was barely concealed by a perfectly tailored Italian suit. Bright blue eyes set in a confident, tanned face searched the shop and came to rest on Kelly, and in that moment she made a rash decision.
“There you are, sweetheart! What took you so long?” she called out as she crossed the shop and embraced the complete stranger at the door. She leaned up to kiss his cheek and whispered desperately in his ear, “Please, please just play along.” Stepping back she looked pleadingly up into his eyes and prayed her gamble paid off.
He looked puzzled for a moment, then replied, “I’m sorry, dear. I got held up at the office. Didn’t you get my call?” He shrugged one shoulder and offered her a half smile.
“Oh, I must have turned my cell phone off.” She smiled back at him and took his hand in hers, leading him back to where the dumbfounded Lena stood.
“Lena, this is my fiancé…”
“Andrew,” he offered, extending his free hand to the florist.
“Pleased to meet you, Andrew,” Lena replied, glancing from him to Kelly and back again.
“Lena here was just noticing the lack of a ring on my finger,” Kelly said, holding up her empty left hand. “And I was going to explain to her…”
“That I am a thoughtless fool who was so eager to get you to agree to marry me that I didn’t bother to think about ring sizes and bought one that was too big, I suppose.” He smiled disarmingly first at Lena, then Kelly.
Her eyes shining with admiration for his quick thinking, and gratitude for his willingness to go along with her charade, Kelly simply nodded. It was a moment before she regained her composure enough to say, “So, Lena, can we talk flowers now?”
“Of course. If you’ll just follow me…” Lena gestured to a small office off the main floor.
Thirty minutes later Kelly and Andrew left the office their heads swimming with facts about flowers and their meanings, their uses and their availability. Kelly had managed to glean only a little more information about the story, but consoled herself with the fact that she’d laid the groundwork for future visits and more pointed questions.
“Dear,” Andrew said as they stepped back onto the main floor of the florist shop, “Do you remember what tonight is?”
“Tonight?” Kelly asked quizzically.
“My mother’s birthday,” Andrew offered.
“Oh, that’s right!” Kelly said. For a moment she’d totally forgotten that this man wasn’t her fiancé and that he must have had some reason for visiting the flower shop in the first place. “That’s tonight, isn’t it? Well, what do you say we find a nice bouquet of flowers for her and kill two birds with one stone?”
“Brilliant. I knew I wanted to marry you for more than just your beauty.” He winked as Kelly blushed and said to Lena, “Could I have three dozen pink roses delivered to this address?” He reached into his pocket and drew out a card, handing it to the florist.
Her eyes widened and she nodded mutely as she read the card. “Of course, Mister…”
“Andrew, please. I feel like we’re friends now. Just have them there by eight, please.”
“Yes, yes, of course. Just charge it to your family’s account?” Lena asked.
“Please.” Andrew nodded to her, then offered his arm to Kelly. “Shall we, dear?”
Grinning sheepishly, Kelly nodded and took his arm. She allowed him to lead her to the door and halfway down the block before she dropped his arm and said, “Thank you, thank you, thank you. You are my hero, and I am so sorry I did that to you.”
He chuckled, a smile forming at the corners of his lips. “Hey, it’s not every day I find myself engaged to a lovely young lady for the afternoon. It was my pleasure… Kelly, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Kelly Suade. Forever in your debt,” she replied.
His eyes widened slightly at her admission and she thought she noticed a slight change in his demeanor, but before she could be sure he grinned rakishly at her and said, “Forever in my debt, hmmmm? I may just have to call you on that.”
“Oh?” Kelly asked.
“Well,” he said, peeling off his jacket, “you see, I am on my way to a most boring dinner.”
“Your mother’s birthday,” Kelly supplied.
“My mother’s birthday,” he agreed, loosening his tie. “And quite frankly I am not looking forward to rubbing shoulders with my father’s colleagues and their twittering wives for the next few hours, so I am looking for an excuse to be late.”
“An excuse?”
“Yes, and I do believe you would provide just such an excuse. A rather enjoyable one, in fact.”
“Really?” Kelly raised an eyebrow.
“Really. So, Miss Suade, my fiancée for the day, would you care to join me for dinner?”
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How does Kelly respond?
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