A Bouquet of Love

by Janice Thompson

  Oh well. I’d better answer before Babbas decided to forbid me from bicycle riding on the grounds that it would be bad for the business.

  “It’s my new bike,” I said. “I bought it from a store on the seawall. Got a really good deal on it.”

  “A bike.” He stared at it as if he’d never seen one before.

  “Can I ride it?” Filip reached for the handlebars, but I grabbed them first.

  “Maybe. Someday. But I want to break it in.”

  “Get on it, Cassia,” Mama said. “I want to take your picture to send to the relatives in California!” She ran inside the shop, came out with her camera, and started snapping photos. Great. I’d probably land front and center on her Facebook page. I always loved it when that happened.

  “Ooh, I have a brilliant idea!” Babbas went into the shop and came out with a sign advertising Super-Gyros. “Now let’s see . . . where can I hang this from your bike?” A pause followed as he surveyed the bike. “Guess you’ll have to wear it, Cassia, like a sandwich.” He slapped his knee and laughed. “Get it? Sandwich?”

  Seriously? Apparently there were worse things than landing on your mom’s Facebook page—like landing on the front page of the Galveston Daily News with a promo for your dad’s business strapped to your back.

  “Oh no!” I put my hand up in the air. “I didn’t buy this bike to promote the business.”

  “Why did you buy it then?” Crinkles formed around Babbas’s eyes. “I’ve never known you to ride before.”

  “I’m going to be making deliveries for the flower shop,” I explained. “It’s part of my job.”

  “Flowers.” Babbas spat on the ground. “I should have known it.” This led to a lengthy sermon about how a good Greek daughter would support her father, not a perfect stranger in a flower shop, but he lost me about the time he starting criticizing roses. The man could say whatever he liked, but he’d better not go messing with my roses, now that I had an entire species named after me.

  Babbas headed back into the shop to wait on our first customer of the day, an elderly lady who happened to be visiting us for the first time. He gave a “come with me” grunt to Mama—Wow, what amazing communication skills, Babbas!—and she followed along behind him.

  “Are you going to ride it or not?” Darian asked.

  “I-I guess so.” I hadn’t exactly counted on trying it out for the first time in front of an audience. What if I fell?

  I reached down and unsnapped the helmet, which I’d hung from the handlebars. “Guess I’d better get suited up.”

  “You look like a pro,” Eva said. “Very cool.”

  “Thanks. Marcella made me promise I would always wear a helmet when I rode. Don’t want to risk getting hurt.” I swung my leg over the bar and almost tumbled over in the process.

  “Do they have helmets that cover the whole body?” Filip teased.

  Thanks for the show of support, folks.

  “I’ll be fine,” I said. “Don’t worry about me.”

  “I’m not worried, Cassia,” Gina said. “Not at all! You’re so good at pedals.” She pointed at the bike pedals and giggled. “You’re always talking about them.”

  “Huh? I am?” It took me a minute, but I finally got it. Petals—I was always talking about them. Ha.

  “Now you have two of your own,” Gina added.

  I giggled and gave her a little kiss on the brow. “Looks like I do, at that.” I eased my bottom onto the seat and placed my right foot on the pedal, preparing to kick off with the other foot.

  “You gonna ride with the stand down?” Darian pointed at the kickstand.

  Right, right. I attempted to nudge it upward without getting off the bike and almost toppled once again. This got a good laugh from Darian, but the “drop it!” look I gave him shut him up pretty quickly.

  “Laugh now,” I said. “But just wait and see if I ever let you ride.” This seemed to do the trick.

  With my siblings looking on, I managed to take off. Figuring out the various gears was a little tricky. So were the handlebar brakes. When I reached the first corner I grabbed them with such force that the bike skidded to a rough stop. This caused a flip-flop–wearing tourist to walk right into me. I made my apologies and kept going. At a snail’s pace.

  After just a few blocks my thighs felt like they were on fire. Still, what kind of wimp stopped after such a short ride? To return home now would be to admit my defeat in front of the whole family. Instead, I pointed my bike toward the south end of the Strand, determined to get as close to the seawall as possible.

  Okay, so I didn’t make it that far. But riding as far as the end of the Strand was admirable for my first attempt. I paused at the flower shop and noticed Alex’s delivery van, wondering if I should go inside. The idea of seeing him held some appeal, but the idea of working did not. Marcella would probably expect me to dive right in, in spite of already giving me the day off. No, I’d keep riding.

  With the breeze in my face, I headed farther south, where I rode for blocks and blocks. Eventually I turned back toward Mechanic Street. Maybe I could ride as far as the Tremont Hotel before going home again. Might be nice to imagine myself a society girl circa 1900, making her way along the boulevard.

  Or not.

  I felt the wind go out of my proverbial sails at the corner of Mechanic and 19th. How long had I been gone, anyway? Should’ve brought my phone to keep track of the time. Maybe install one of those bike-riding apps so I wouldn’t get lost. Either way, I should probably head back to the shop now. Babbas would be looking for me, no doubt.

  Before I had a chance to think it through further, Alex pulled up next to me in his delivery truck and called out my name, followed by, “Hey, little lady.”

  I laughed and nearly tumbled off the bike. “Did Marcella put you up to this?”

  “Up to what?” he asked.

  “Tailing me. Does she need me to work?”

  He shrugged. “Nope. Just happened to be passing by on my way home from the shop.”

  “Ooh, what were you delivering?”

  “Only the best orchids I’ve seen in years. But don’t go back to look at them. They’ll still be there tomorrow. Maybe.” He gave me a little wink and my heart skipped a beat.

  “Can’t wait.”

  For a moment neither of us said anything. Then another driver happened by and honked at Alex, who was taking up too much of the intersection.

  I didn’t really mind the break, what with the exhaustion from my ride.

  Alex must’ve noticed. He pulled the van off to the side and got out. Extending his hands toward me, he said, “Here. I’ll put your bike in the back and drive you home.”

  He took care of the bike and then offered me a hand to get into the passenger seat. The luscious aroma of flowers seemed overpowering in here, in a good way. Their heady scent almost made me forget myself. Until I caught a glimpse of Alex’s muscular arms as he pulled himself into the driver’s seat. Then suddenly I remembered who I was. Who he was. Who we could be . . . together.

  I felt like a giddy schoolgirl riding in the front seat with him. In fact, I could hardly string two sensible words together. Not that he seemed to notice.

  I settled back in my seat and gave the interior of the van a quick glance. “I’ve never been inside of one of these before,” I said. “Very . . .”

  “Boxlike?” The edges of Alex’s lips tipped up in a gorgeous smile. “I know. It’s not much, but it gets me where I’m going and the flowers arrive in good shape. And just enough room to fit your bike inside.”

  “Lucky break.” Of course, anytime I could snag a few minutes of alone time with this handsome flower guy, I considered myself lucky.

  “Yep.” Alex pulled out onto the road and eased his way along. “Hey, speaking of which, I’m glad to see you got a bike. I like to ride myself. Sometimes I drive down to the island and rent a bike to ride along the seawall.”

  “No way.” I couldn’t help the little chuckle that slipped out.
“Wow.”

  The edges of his lips curled up in an embarrassed smile. “Yeah. Does that surprise you? Make me sound like a kid or something?”

  “No, I just . . .” Should I tell him how much I’d loved the feel of the wind against my face, the smell of the salt water in the breeze as I made my way toward the coast? “Today was my first time in years, but I loved it.”

  “Really?” This seemed to pique his interest. “Maybe we should go together sometime.”

  “Sure. I’d love that.” Oh boy, would I ever. My imagination went off on a little tangent as I thought about the possibilities of strolling the seashore hand in hand with this awesome guy. Strange how he’d snagged such a large piece of my heart in such a short period of time. I reflected back to that first moment when I’d seen him on the trolley. The words Fate! Kismet! had crossed my mind. Now, seated beside him, I had to admit our blossoming relationship did feel like fate. Divinely ordained.

  He dove into a story about a ride he’d taken on some trails in the Sam Houston National Forest, but my mind shifted. “You should buy a bike and leave it at our place. That way you wouldn’t have to rent one.”

  “I own a great one,” he said. “But it’s a long drive down from Splendora. Maybe I should buy another and keep it here . . . if you don’t think your parents would mind, I mean.”

  “My parents?” With a wave of my hand I dismissed the idea. “Nah. You know how easygoing they are.” Ha.

  When we arrived at the shop I asked him to pull around to the back so I could unload the bike. After getting it situated I gave it one last look. I couldn’t help the smile that rose up. Riding with soft wisps of hair in my face had been freeing. Totally freeing.

  “You hungry?” I asked.

  His “I thought you’d never ask” look left little to the imagination. I took him into Super-Gyros the back way, chatting all the time. Imagine my shock when I saw Yia Yia inside weeping.

  She took one look at me and began to offer up a heartfelt prayer in Greek. “Oh, Cassia, thank God!” Yia Yia threw her arms around me and began to wail. I couldn’t figure out why, though. Had someone died?

  “Yia Yia, what’s happened?” I asked. “What is it?”

  She began to ramble in unintelligible Greek sentences, completely losing me. Alex seemed to be trying to work on the translation and eventually leaned toward me to whisper, “They thought you were dead.”

  “W-what?” I looked at my grandmother. “Why would you think that?”

  “You leave on that—that—bicycle! And you never come home again.”

  “What else could we think, Cassia?” Mama clutched her cell phone in her hand. “I’ve been on the telephone with the police.”

  “The police?” My heart skipped a beat. “Are you serious?”

  “You should tell us your plans,” Mama scolded. “So we won’t worry.”

  “You knew I was going out to ride my bike,” I countered.

  “Yes, but that was an hour and a half ago,” Mama said. “We expected you to be gone ten minutes. Maybe twenty. But an hour and a half?”

  You thought I would only last ten minutes? Thanks for the show of support, people!

  “Do you know how many people die in an hour and a half?” She shared a gruesome story she’d recently seen on the evening news, and I bit back a sharp retort. Seriously? I couldn’t go out for a bike ride without getting the whole family worked up?

  At this point Mama seemed to notice I wasn’t alone. She welcomed Alex by handing him a sandwich. He opened it and took a bite. Go figure.

  My little sister wrapped herself around my leg. “Don’t go away again, Cassia! Promise?”

  “Well, I—”

  “We were afraid those Italians had kidnapped you.” Gina’s eyes, filled with anxiety, met mine. “I thought maybe they locked you up in the kitchen at Parma John’s and forced you to make the new Venus de Milo for them.”

  Where did the child come up with such nonsense? Then again, a Greek pizza did sound really good right about now.

  Babbas joined the group, his face red. “So that Rossi family wasn’t behind your disappearance?” He crossed his arms. “If they had anything to do with this, I’m going to—to—” He ranted in Greek, and I interpreted enough to pray the little ones couldn’t understand the translation.

  “I’m telling you, Babbas, I just went for a bike ride. By myself.”

  “Yes.” He glared at Alex. “I can see you were by yourself.”

  “Oh, I just happened along, sir. I found her looking pretty winded on the corner of Mechanic and 19th and offered to drive her home.”

  “A good Samaritan!” Yia Yia took Alex’s face in her hands—quite a task, with him being so much taller—and gave him a kiss on either cheek.

  “I rode to the end of the Strand and then a few blocks farther south toward the seawall area,” I explained. “Then I turned back. By the time I got to Mechanic and 19th I was a little . . . tired.”

  “The seawall?” My mother reached for a menu and began to fan herself. “You rode in all that traffic?”

  “I didn’t make it that far.” I pinched my eyes shut and pictured myself riding along, the salty island breeze nipping at my heels, the crash of waves off in the distance.

  Turned out the only thing crashing was the plastic bowl Eva had been holding. It had slipped out of her hands and hit the floor.

  My father waggled his finger in my face. “I still say you need to beware those people across the street. They’re out to get us.”

  I couldn’t help but notice Alex’s eyes widening as he listened in. Still, he didn’t join the conversation, thank goodness.

  “Babbas, they’re not,” I said. “I’m sure they’re perfectly good people who—”

  “Who are intent on forcing us out of town. Getting rid of us because we’re the competition.”

  “Why do you say that?” I asked. “What have they ever done to make you think that?”

  “They have not extended the hand of friendship to us.”

  “That’s probably because we’ve only been open awhile. Besides, they’re busier than ever now that Scarlet’s bakery is part of the restaurant. You know what it’s like when you add something new.”

  “They’re pretty crowded over there,” Alex said. “So I’m sure they don’t get to take a break very often.”

  “Sure, sure, rub it in that they’re doing good business.” His eyes narrowed to slits as he turned to me in slow motion. “Wait. Who is Scarlet? You’ve been in this bakery?”

  Oh. Help.

  If I told him about my lunch at Parma John’s, it would be the end of me.

  “The only thing you need to know is that I wasn’t kidnapped. And there’s no reason to call the police, trust me.”

  Too late. Officer O’Reilly and a couple of his finest men rushed into the sandwich shop just as I finished my sentence, ready to send out a search party for the kidnapped Greek girl. Just what I needed, more press.

  Less than thirty seconds after clearing up the misunderstanding, Babbas offered the officers free coffee and gyros. Several minutes later, the poor fellas were a captive audience for my father, who filled their ears with tales from the Old Country.

  Again with the Old Country stories, Babbas? You’ve never even been to Santorini. Or Athens. Or anywhere else in the Mediterranean.

  Didn’t seem to matter. My father described each gorgeous locale with the gusto and admiration of a true Greek patriot. And my, what a stance! Shoulders back. Chest puffed out. Chin jutting forward. Zeus on steroids. And apparently his superpowers included charming cranky police officers, from the looks of things.

  “Are you going to give my daughter a ticket, Officer?” Babbas gave O’Reilly an imploring look.

  “I, um, well, I don’t know what I would cite her for.” The officer took another bite of his gyro, a contented look on his face. “What did you call this sauce again?”

  “Tzatziki.” I shrugged. “And I don’t really see how you could giv
e me a ticket for anything. I did nothing wrong.”

  “She rode the wrong way down a one-way street,” Yia Yia called out.

  “On the sidewalk!” I said.

  “And she nearly ran over a tourist at the first corner,” Gina added. “But he lived.”

  This led to a strict discussion from Officer O’Reilly on sidewalk etiquette. Really?

  By this point Alex was laughing out loud. I didn’t blame him.

  “I guess I’ll just give you a warning this time.” O’Reilly took a swig of his coffee. “But next time you might not be so lucky.”

  “I guess I’ll take my chances,” I said. “And if you’re ever in the neighborhood again, I’ll be sure to get kidnapped to make things more interesting.”

  “That would be just fine.” He took a bite of his sandwich. “Anything to give me an excuse to come back here for lunch.”

  The officers walked out of the shop with baklava in one hand and to-go cups in the other. Across the street, Bella’s uncle Laz looked on, likely wondering what all of the squad cars were doing here. I stayed inside so as not to raise further suspicions. Maybe he would think we’d been robbed or something exciting like that.

  Completely humiliated, I sank into a chair at a nearby table. Alex joined me and finished up the last of his sandwich. “I hate to leave just when things are getting good,” he said. “And trust me when I say we don’t get this kind of excitement in Splendora. But I wanted to ask you something before I left.”

  Being a good Greek mama, my mother hovered around us like a spaceship coming in for a landing. No doubt she wondered what he might ask. I kind of wondered myself.

  “I’ve talked a lot about our family’s place up in Splendora,” he said. “And you’ve seen the roses. Some of them, anyway. But how would you like to see the whole place?”

  “Go to Splendora?” I asked. Wow. I couldn’t help but wonder what I might find there, what with the big buildup and all. Not that it mattered. My Southern Adonis wanted me to take a trip to this place he called Splendora. So I’d take a trip to Splendora.