Out of the Blue Bouquet (Crossroads Collection)

by Amanda Tru

  “No, she didn’t cancel because of the flowers. She canceled because she broke up with me.”

  Brooke couldn’t hide her sharp intake of breath. “I’m so sorry! Now my mistakes have really ruined things for you!”

  “It isn’t your fault,” Dylan said firmly. “At least not in that way. Monica wasn’t upset about the flowers, and that isn’t the reason she broke up with me.” Dylan paused as if searching for the words to explain. “She just said she didn’t want to waste our time when it was clear to her that we weren’t going to be more than friends.”

  “I’m still sorry,” Brooke said sympathetically. “You’ve not had a very good day. Ending it with a breakup couldn’t be pleasant.”

  Dylan shrugged. “I’m not upset about it. Monica knew I wasn’t attached to her, which was I guess the problem. I wasn’t serious about her, and I wasn’t going to be. In this case, the flower fiasco was a good thing. I think it made Monica realize that she didn’t want a relationship that had no possibility of getting serious. And in the long run, it was probably a good thing for me as well.”

  Dylan pulled into the parking lot of Crossroads Floral and parked beside Brooke’s car.

  After wanting to be out of his presence all day, Brooke was suddenly reluctant to leave him. She sat for several seconds, trying to choose words and decide if she even wanted to speak what was on her mind.

  For his part, Dylan waited patiently, seeming to realize she was struggling with something.

  “Can I ask you a question?” she finally managed.

  “Go ahead,” Dylan said without a hint of trepidation. “You’ve seen just about every skeleton in my closet already today. You may as well. I think you’ve earned it.”

  “Why do you date so many women?” she asked in a rush.

  Dylan was slow enough in responding that Brooke worried she had offended him.

  “I don’t intend to date so many women,” Dylan finally responded. He spoke slowly and seriously, as if taking time to give her an honest answer. “I don’t like to do things by myself. I don’t have any family to speak of, especially in this area, and most of my guy friends are already married. I ask a girl out for fun, but pretty soon, she’s upset because I’m not pledging my love to her or getting serious fast enough.”

  “But you send them flowers,” Brooke said, not letting him off the hook easily. “That’s a romantic gesture, especially for someone who doesn’t want a serious relationship.”

  Dylan nodded, as if considering her point to be valid. “I usually send flowers about the second week I date a woman. Flowers are something romantic that doesn’t necessarily say ‘I love you.’ And it usually satisfies them for another couple of dates. Then, either I can’t stand them, or they are fed up with me, and we break up.”

  Feeling a little braver, Brooke surmised, “Then you need someone to do something with, ask another girl out, and the cycle starts over again?”

  “Pretty much,” Dylan answered tiredly. “Except they often invite me out. Sometimes it seems the women of the greater Crossroads area have an unwritten contest to see who can snare Dylan Masters. They all want to submit a resume, and then get mad when they don’t get the job.”

  Brooke laughed. It was pretty amazing at how clearly Dylan understood the situation and his role in it. His words echoed what Celeste had told her earlier in the day.

  “I probably should have given up long ago and just quit dating,” he admitted with a grimace. “A psychologist would have fun analyzing why I keep trying. I don’t enjoy being a Casanova. I don’t like the attention or the reputation. And yet, I can’t help but find another girl when the next weekend rolls around. And the really sad thing is, I’m not even looking for love. I’d like to get married someday, but I thought falling in love would eventually happen without me doing gymnastics to make it. And I’ve never found a girl I’ve felt romantic enough to want to get serious about.”

  “You’ve never been in love?”

  “No. Shocking isn’t it?” he said, wiggling his eyebrows. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve felt romantic toward women I’ve dated and had several relationships that lasted six months. But they never progressed beyond the initial romantic attraction to something deeper. Believe it or not, I really am cautious and try not to lead any women on. In fact, when I go on a first date, I usually have a standard speech on how I’m really looking for friendship. If something else develops, that’s great. But my primary goal is friendship. Every woman I’ve dated has nodded, smiled, and said she completely agrees. Then, three weeks later, she’s ticked off at me that I’m not in love with her.”

  “And yet you still try. Over and over.”

  “Isn’t that the definition of insanity? Doing something repeatedly while getting the same results?” Dylan shook his head. “Maybe I’m not a complete lost cause. This whole fiasco with the flowers has made me realize that maybe the problem with my dating life is more me than them. I don’t intend to lead them on and hurt them, but in retrospect, many of the flowers I sent probably did just that. I’ve dated probably hundreds of women and fallen in love with none. That tells me I should probably do some serious thinking. Maybe I should take a dating hiatus for a while, or only date a woman I have a strong romantic connection to and feel I have the potential to be serious with.”

  “Well, if my little mistake can reform Dylan Masters, maybe it wasn’t a total loss,” Brooke couldn’t resist teasing. “I guess I’d better go try to do more damage control from that little mistake. I doubt everyone will find a personal epiphany worth the cost of accidental flowers.”

  With her hand on the door handle of the Porsche, the day flashed back over itself. Dylan wouldn’t even speak to her at first, and now she realized how special it was that he had opened up to her. “Thank you for talking to me,” she said almost shyly.

  “Of course,” Dylan said. Getting out of his own door, he hurried around to open the passenger side.

  Brooke stepped out, and her gaze caught on his. She couldn’t read him, and that, in itself was fascinating. She watched emotions she didn’t understand spark like lightning in a gray storm. And in turn, those sparks seemed to produce feelings that she didn’t understand in herself.

  Dylan flashed a smile. “I’ll see you later.”

  “See you,” Brooke answered simply. Then she resolutely left Dylan’s stormy eyes and headed to the door of the shop where she was sure Helen would have a long list of unpleasant tasks waiting.

  Please, Lord! I’m not sure how much more I can take! Brooke prayed as she resolutely dialed the number for the next order on the list. She was back at her apartment, but had yet to have a break. After walking in the door, she had immediately begun calling the long list of local and online accidental orders and making personal apologies. While the calls were going relatively quickly, with none of the drama involved with Dylan’s orders, it was humiliating.

  She really believed Helen had only consented to let her make the calls from home because the older woman was too angry to stand her presence. After fielding calls from customers and those who were simply curious, as well as managing the public outcry and social media, Helen’s temper was even worse than in the morning.

  Brooke stopped her pacing and sat down in the straight-backed chair at her small table. Her hand shook with anxiety as she brought the phone up to her ear. This was one call she especially did not want to make.

  Though Brooke knew she’d just have to repeat the call later, she silently hoped no one would pick up the ringing phone. Maybe she could just make the apology on the answering machine and leave her number if they wanted to call her back. Since it was after business hours, maybe…

  “Hello. Somners Funeral Home.”

  Brooke cringed. Propping her elbow on the table, she leaned over to wearily rest her forehead against her hand. “Hi, this is Brooke Hutchins from Crossroads Floral. I just wanted to call and personally apologize for the order that was mistakenly delivered yesterday.”

  To her su
rprise, the man on the other end laughed. “That was quite the accidental order! It’s not every day that we get a bouquet that was obviously meant for a bachelorette party, delivered to a funeral! I think there was even a piece of lingerie attached!”

  Brooke shut her eyes, her face turning red even though no one was there to see it. “I’m so sorry! I wasn’t the florist who put together the bouquet, but I did see the instructions. It sounds like the florist who did fulfill the order had even more fun with it than the instructions outlined!”

  A knock sounded at Brooke’s front door. Trying to stay focused on her conversation, she got up to open the door while the funeral director gleefully gave her a thorough description of the bachelorette party bouquet.

  She swung the door wide to find Dylan. In one hand, he held a list paper-clipped to his phone bills. In the other hand, he held a sack of Chinese takeout.

  Brooke motioned him inside without granting him a second glance, and then returned to her seat at the table. She heard him rummaging around with the food, but paid him no mind, focusing instead on her task. The fact that the man she was talking to, presumably Mr. Somners, was painting a vivid description of a lingerie-laden bouquet made her cheeks a little too rosy, and she didn’t want to make eye contact with anyone, especially Dylan!

  Finally having a turn to speak after she was given a very clear understanding of the way the lace draped over the flowers, Brooke explained, “I know that there were two orders for Tracey, Oregon, and one of the addresses was deleted by accident. So both orders—one for a funeral and one for a bachelorette party—were mistakenly delivered to the single address, which happened to be the funeral home.”

  Mr. Somners laughed again. “I was wondering what happened! Sounds like it was a far too easy mistake to make! But it certainly provided us with some great entertainment today! I have to say, this was one of my most favorite days ever as a funeral director!”

  Brooke’s eyes came open. “You mean your clients weren’t upset about having such an inappropriate bouquet delivered to their loved one’s funeral?”

  “Well, I think they were shocked at first, and some may have been upset,” Mr. Somners admitted. “But then everyone saw the humor in the situation. We had a few mishaps of trying to get the bouquet out of the public line of viewing, but I think, in the end, the family found the entire situation hilarious. It was a much-needed release for a sad day. They all agreed that their loved one would have ordered the bouquet for his own funeral himself, if he’d thought of it. And there was a heated argument and rivalry over who got to take the bouquet home!”

  “Oh, I’m so relieved!” Brooke said. In the back of her mind, she recognized that Dylan seemed to have no intention of simply making his delivery and leaving. Instead, he was making himself at home by finding a plate and ladling Chinese food on it.

  Steadily ignoring him, Brooke continued, “I still feel bad, though, about the discomfort and drama on a day of mourning. If you are willing to give me the number of your clients, I can call and make a personal apology to them.”

  “Oh, no, no, no,” the jolly man said quickly. “That won’t be necessary at all. I ran down the problem as soon as the bouquet arrived and handled all of the apologies. By the end of the services, everyone went home with both tears and smiles, feeling like that accidental bouquet was really a blessing disguised in lingerie!”

  Brooke felt tears prickle the corners of her eyes. She put her hand up to casually shield them from where Dylan now sat eating Chinese food on her couch.

  Could it really be possible that some people were thankful for her mistakes?

  “You have no idea what it means to me to hear that!” she finally managed.

  After that, goodbyes were made quickly, and Brooke pressed the end button on her phone. She took deep breaths, trying to combat her case of the sniffles.

  “Do you want something to eat?” Dylan asked in between bites. “I thought you probably wouldn’t have eaten yet, so I went ahead and got enough Chinese food for both of us.”

  “You’re right, I haven’t,” Brooke said, looking up briefly and flashing him an attempt at a smile. “Thank you. That was very thoughtful. I think I’ll go ahead and finish my list first. I think I only have one more name. Then I can do your list after I eat.”

  “Then go ahead and get it done,” Dylan said easily. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got several different things, along with some egg rolls. It will keep until you are ready for it.”

  “Thank you,” Brooke said, already looking down at the next name on her list. Seeing who it was, her eyes slid shut, and she couldn’t help the little moan that escaped. Whether conscious or not, she had left this one for last, and now she wished she hadn’t. She tried to tell herself that the last call had turned out much better than expected, so this one may, too. But her pep talk didn’t quite work. This was the mistaken order that had made her sick whenever she thought about it all day long. Now there was no more putting it off.

  Knowing she just had to get it over with, she took a deep breath and quickly dialed the numbers before she had a chance to change her mind.

  “Hello?” came the weary voice on the other end.

  “Hi, is this Aimee?” Brooke asked.

  “Yes, it is,” the voice answered.

  “This is Brooke Hutchins from Crossroads Floral. I’m calling to apologize for the bouquet that was sent to you by accident today. It was my mistake, and I am so sorry. I can’t imagine how terrible it would feel to have flowers delivered from a mother who had passed away.”

  “I’m so glad you called,” Aimee said, and her tone suddenly brightened. “Are you the one who messed up all the orders? A woman named Helen called earlier and said someone else had made the mistakes and would be calling to personally apologize.”

  “Yes, that’s me,” Brooke acknowledged. She was sure Helen said much more than that when she called. And chances were good that it was all unflattering to Brooke. “When I printed the orders, I didn’t realize that the date was wrong. Instead of the orders for yesterday, we filled the orders from that same day, but a year ago. Your mother apparently ordered flowers for you last year, and that order was inadvertently duplicated yesterday.”

  “Yes, yesterday was my birthday,” Aimee said, her voice quiet.

  Brooke shut her eyes. “Aimee, I am so very sorry. I must have ruined your day and caused you so much pain. I wish I could do something to make it better.”

  “Oh, but you already did,” Aimee said gently. “I wanted to have a chance to talk to you. Your boss, Helen was very angry when I talked to her. And I’ve seen all of the mean things people are saying on social media. But I wanted to thank you.”

  Brooke mentally braced herself for a sarcastic tongue-lashing.

  But Aimee’s voice stayed soft and gentle as she continued speaking, with not a trace of scorn in sight. “Mom always sent me flowers on my birthday. When she passed away from a heart attack about six months ago, I knew that I would never again receive birthday flowers from her. And I would never again read her words, ‘My favorite day ever was the one that brought me you.’ I guess part of grief is going through all of those ‘never agains,’ and it’s been so hard, especially since I was an only child. Then, on my birthday, a bouquet shows up with a card from my mother, exactly as if she had sent it herself. At first, I was confused. I even felt sorry for myself that such a cruel mistake had found me, on my birthday! Then, as I was staring at the flowers, I realized that Mom had sent the flowers. She had ordered them for me last year, and if she could have, she would have ordered me some this year as well. I happen to believe that everything happens for a reason, and I think, in my case, God found a way to let my mom order me flowers for my birthday one last time.”

  By the time Aimee finished, Brooke was weeping. “I don’t know what to say,” Brooke hiccupped. “It’s such a beautiful story. Thank you for sharing it with me.”

  “No, Miss Hutchins, I must thank you,” Aimee insisted. “I kno
w your mistakes weren’t on purpose, but I also know that they have caused a lot of trouble for you. What was a beautiful blessing for me came at great cost to you.”

  Aimee’s kind words only seemed to increase the output of Brooke’s tears. Though her voice trembled with emotion, she assured, “I’m sure I’ll be okay, Aimee, especially now that I know God sent you flowers from your mom. I know there are a lot of angry people, and their stories don’t seem to have any positive outcome like yours. But dealing with all of that will be easier for me now because I know that in your case, the cost of my difficulties was worth the price of your blessing.”

  They chatted a few more minutes. Brooke found out more about Aimee’s mom and Aimee herself. She was a little older than Brooke and had been through a divorce. She had no children and didn’t seem to do much outside of her work as a teacher. Aimee seemed so very nice that it bothered Brooke tremendously that the woman seemed so lonely. By the end of the conversation, Brooke had managed to invite Aimee to her church. As she finally ended the call, Brooke prayed silently for the young woman and truly hoped that she could soon count her as a friend.

  Brooke pressed the end button, feeling a good measure of relief. Now she just had to finish up by calling the last of Dylan’s girlfriends, and she could close this nightmarish chapter.

  “This looks good,” Brooke said, grabbing a plate and looking over the selection that Dylan brought.

  “The egg rolls are especially good,” Dylan said. Having just finished the last of his food, he came into the kitchen and began washing his plate at the sink.

  Brooke loaded up her plate, grabbed a fork, and headed for the couch. She just didn’t have the energy left to sit at the table and eat. Spearing a piece of sweet and sour chicken with her fork, she almost had it to her mouth when her phone rang from her pocket.

  She brought it out and answered, “Hi, Tylee.”