by Tonya Kappes
A Grandberry Falls Novel
Book One
Tonya Kappes
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without the permission in writing from the author or publisher.
Edition: May 2011
Copyright © 2011 by Tonya Kappes
All rights reserved.
Cover art designed by Laura Morrigan
www.lauramorrigan.com
“Full of wit, humor and colorful characters, Tonya Kappes delivers a fun, fast-paced story that will leave you hooked!” Bestselling Author, Jane Porter
“Fun, fresh, and flirty, Carpe Bead ’Em is the perfect read on a hot summer day. Tonya Kappes’ voice shines in her debut novel.” Author Heather Webber
“Tonya Kappes strings together the perfect blend of family, friends, and fun.” Author Misa Ramirez
“I loved how Tonya Kappes was able to bring her characters to life.” Coffee Table Reviews
“I love, love, love this book. I enjoyed reading about Hallie's friendships and her trials and tribulations. Her Aunt Grace was a hoot, especially the pink poodle. Too darn funny. As you already know I was crying and I had to put the book down. That, makes a truly awesome read for me, because I became a part of the story and loved Aunt Grace as much as Hallie.
Again, this was worth the wait and I can't wait to read your next story.” Reader, Dru Ann
“I don't write many reviews but some books are so outstanding I just have to. This is one of them. Tonya Kappes is one of the freshest new voices in women's fiction, and I can't wait to read more from her.” Reader, Melissa Lapierre
Also by Tonya Kappes
Carpe Bead ‘em
Something Spooky This Way Comes
Believe Christmas Anthology
The Tricked-Out Toolbox~Promotional and Marketing Tools Every Writer Needs
Grandberry Falls Series
The Ladybug Jinx
Happy New Life (fall 2011)
Never Tell Your Dreams Before Breakfast-
(spring 2012)
This book is dedicated to Nicholasville, Kentucky, my small hometown, and my parents, John Robert and Linda Lowry, who showed me how great it was to grow up there.
Acknowledgements
I couldn’t have written this series without the help of my wonderful and loving husband, Eddy. He takes all my quirky characteristics and embraces them. Thank you.
A huge thank you to my boys (Jack, Austin, and Brady) for giving me all the warm hugs and kisses when I’m working through a long writing day.
Mary Godschalk, amazing reader turned editor extraordinaire! You are amazing and without you I would be in tense hell!
Thank you D.D. Scott for reading The Ladybug Jinx, and loving it enough to give me a great quote.
To my grog gals, D.D. Scott, Heather Webber, Lee Lopez, and Melissa Bourban for hanging out with me daily at The Naked Hero.
Misa Ramirez, thank you for helping me work out those plot issues!
Most important, thank you to my readers. I do this every day for you.
“If you have two pennies, spend one on bread
and one on a flower. The bread will give you
life and the flower will give you a reason to live.”
Chinese Proverb
1
Celia stood on the cobblestone walkway looking at the name, ever so elegantly painted over the bay window in beautiful cursive writing: The Ladybug Florist.
“Will that be all?” the painter asked, poking his head out of the doorway.
She followed him inside and admired the Chinese proverb he’d painted over the cash register. “You do fine work,” she said.
She was pleased with the details. Except for one thing. “Before you go, can you make the dot on the ‘I’ in Florist a ladybug?” Celia asked.
It’s all about the details to Celia, all the way down to placing a ladybug sticker in each arrangement, in the right spot.
The painter didn’t question her. He set his ladder up behind the cash register and began to work his magic. Celia left him alone to finish. There was new inventory to put up, flowers to cut, and arrangements to be made. With orders flowing in, she wasn’t about to complain.
Celia had dreamed of owning her own English floral shop, and when the two bedroom cottage on the outskirts of Grandberry Falls, Kentucky, went up for sale--Celia snatched the opportunity.
Celia bent down to stop Charlie from barking when the bell hanging above the front door rang. “Shh! You’re going to scare the customers.”
After Celia’s mother died, she went to the pound in Lexington to look for a dog for her father. A companion of sorts. Instead, the silver-haired miniature schnauzer found her. She was perfect for him, as Charlie was for her. He gave her two things a man never could: loyalty and unconditional love.
“I can’t keep up with all these deliveries, Celia.” Marty Briggs’ voice boomed throughout the old clapboard house. “You are going to have to hire someone. I’m just too old.”
She started to snip away the bright orange Gerber daisies as her father came in. She didn’t have to look up to hear the anger in his voice. He was good at letting her know how much he dislikes being the only flower delivery boy in town.
“I know, Dad, but you’re retired, and it gives you something to do. Everyone in town is always telling me how much they love visiting with you.” She continued to cut one daisy after the other, keeping a cautious eye on her father.
“When you started this business you told me that I would be delivering on a temporary basis.”
Marty looked at the arrangements left to be delivered.
“You need to hire someone else. Place a wanted ad in this week’s paper.”
“Don’t you enjoy getting out of the house and visiting with Mamie down at the Fatted Pig during your coffee breaks?” Celia looked up to see if her dad would react at the mere mention of Mamie Beale’s name.
Celia’s heard faint rumors about Mamie taking a fancy to her father over the past few months.
“Celia Briggs, what are you implying?” Marty’s voice gave off a distinct displeasure to her accusations.
“I’m not implying anything, Dad. I think you need to get out of your house, and if you’re not delivering flowers you might not ever leave your TV.” Celia wasn’t about to tell him not to court Mamie, or press him for more information when he clearly wasn’t going to be forthcoming.
“Well.” Marty bent down to pick up a couple arrangements. “I can’t do them all anymore. You’re business is growing, and I’m more tired now than I was at Benton’s.”
Celia had several fond memories of her father being the manager at Benton’s IGA, the only grocery store in town. Many times she’d fling the Coke bottles down the bottle return as fast as she could so they would break in a big pile at the end. And many times she heard Mavis Prattle scream, “Marty Briggs, that child of yours has got to go home!” It only caused Celia to fling them harder the next time.
She knew her dad was right. The job was getting bigger than she planned. But, every since he’d been delivering flowers, she’d seen a difference in him. It was hard on all of them since her mother passed a couple years ago.
Besides, Celia only gave him what she called “happy orders”: birthdays, anniversaries, births, just because occasions. He wasn’t ready for funeral homes, the sick or death deliveries. She left those for herself, which she found was leaving her little time to fulfill the orders too.
>
“Oh! Dad, wait!” Celia grabbed the ladybug stickers and ran after him.
“That’s the first words out of people’s mouth, ‘Mr. Briggs, where’s the ladybug?’”
Her dad made the funniest excited woman’s voice causing Celia to giggle.
“I love when you make me laugh. Now shoo.” Celia signaled for him to get going.
“Don’t forget about the delivery boy wanted ad. I mean it, Celia.” His face became stern. “I can’t do this all by myself anymore. It’s just getting too big.”
She shooed him out the door before she heard another word.
“Anything else?” The painter asked.
Wiping her hands on the apron, she then retrieved a tip for his time. “It looks great.” She held the tip out.
Pushing the money aside, the painter said, “If you don’t mind, I wouldn’t mind having a few daisies to take home to my wife.” He pointed in the other room towards the freezers. “My wife loves the simple daisy.”
Celia held back from laughing. If he only knew the complexity that simple flower has made upon the world. A whole philosophy was born when Buddha held up a single lotus. The simple flower was what made her love her job. Flowers make everyone happy, even the grumpy painter.
She opened the freezer, taking in a deep breath. The freeing feeling she got from the whiff of the fresh flowers caused her heart to glide along with soaring memories of her grandfather’s words. “Cee, if you are ever sad, go over to my freezer, and put your nose up to the seal. Inhale through your nose, open and shut the door. All your cares will melt away as the scents mingle, and swirl around.”
She held out the bucket of daisies. “Pick a stalk. Three.”
The painter eyed each one carefully and pulled out the prettiest three.
“Good choice.” Celia placed the bucket back in the freezer, and took the stems from the painter.
Silently he followed her back to the old kitchen where Celia worked her magic. Placing the final touch, she stuck a ladybug on a single white petal.
“You really like ladybugs.” The painter admired the arrangement.
“My grandfather always told me they were good luck.” She handed the vase to him. “They haven’t let me down yet.”
“My wife will love these.” The painter admired the flowers, rotating the vase at all angles before walking out to his rusty beat-up truck.
Celia sat next to Charlie on the window seat watching the painter carefully place the daisies on the passenger seat. A feeling of satisfaction flowed through her as the phone rang.
Charlie licked Celia just before she got up to answer the phone.
“Ladybug Florist, how can I help you?”
“Hi, Celia. It’s Megan down at the Record.”
Celia talked to Megan a lot. She was the obituary editor at the Grandberry Falls Recorder. When Celia needed funeral arrangements, Megan was her go-to gal.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Celia was a little confused. She had already gotten her funeral updates for the week and unless something really unexpected happened.
“Your dad came in yesterday, and told me to give you a call today about a classified.” Megan said.
“He did?” Celia couldn’t believe her dad took it upon himself to go see Megan.
“Honey, he said delivering all those flowers is killing him.”
That’s one thing Celia didn’t embrace about her community, town gossip. Technically it was only gossip, but it would be all over town that she was killing her father.
“Megan, he’s just being dramatic.” Celia was becoming increasingly aggravated at the fact her father would go to such tactics to ensure she followed through. Or maybe she should be mad at herself for slacking on something he obviously felt important.
“Either way, Celia, I need to know what the ad should say.” Celia could hear Megan rummaging for paper.
Celia sighed, feeling herself give in. “Wanted delivery boy.”
“Okay, got that. And?” Megan paused.
“And what?”
“That’s it? I don’t think you’ll get a lot of response.” Megan paused again. “Listen, why don’t I ask one of our paper boys if they’d be interested?”
“No. I want the ad.” Celia was going to do exactly as her father asked her to do. After thirty-two years of doing as she was told, why would she change now? “Obviously, put my name and store. I want them to apply in person.”
Though a little hesitant, Celia was somewhat relieved when her father pulled back in for more flowers to be delivered.
Celia was in the back hiding a ladybug in the last arrangement for the day when she heard the bell ring. “Hi, Dad.”
“Hi, Cee. What’s going where?” She could tell by the wear on his face he was tired. The circles and wrinkles under his eyes gave him an almost eerie feature. Suddenly she felt guilty.
“Just a couple drop-offs on the way to your house.” Celia held up the arrangement adorned with beautiful bouquet of roses, sunflowers, lilies, daisy poms, seeded eucalyptus, and salal, accented with preserved fall leaves. She loved this time of year. The fall foliage colors added wonderful colors to any arrangement.
“Megan called about the ad.” Celia followed him out to his truck, carefully placing the flowers on the dirty floor along with his used sugar packets from the day’s coffee.
“I hope you don’t mind. But Cee, I am tired.” He rested on his open driver’s side door with his foot propped up on the side step. “I can do a couple deliveries here or there, but not all day.”
Her heart sank at the creases in her father’s face. He’d aged so much in the past couple years. She didn’t want to add to it. Only she knows that once she hires a delivery boy, her dad will have too much extra time.
“Actually I like the fact my business is growing, and maybe I need two delivery persons.” She added the second part to make her father feel better.
With a quick kiss and a hand off of MapQuest directions, her dad was on his way.
Celia couldn’t help but think about how far their relationship has come. He never seemed to take up for her when her mother continually told her, “Cee Cee, you’re going to get out of this small town and make something of yourself.”
Celia always replied, “But I want to be a florist just like Grandpa.”
Her mother’s face would always curl in displeasure. Celia’s mother claimed grandpa had picked flowers over his family. “Pick a noble career, Cee. You are going to be a lawyer,” her mother repeated week after week until Celia graduated from law school. “There’s no honor in playing with flowers all day.”
“Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal.”
From a headstone in Ireland
2
“Damn!” Sam floored the pedal, remembering the Mercedes dealer telling him how fast the hunk of metal could go. He needed to get out of the rat race he threw himself into over the past six months and skipping out of Los Angeles was the only way he knew how.
Devoting the past year of his life to take care of his fiancé, Bianca, was a no brainer. Her death left him feeling cheated, defeated and angry. Throwing himself into his acting career, allowed him to momentarily forget his heartache.
Making it to the sleepy little town just before sunrise was a perfect pit stop for some fuel, both for his body and car. A good stop to help him plan his journey to nowhere and anywhere other than his life. Sam laughed out loud reading the irony of the town sign. Welcome to Grandberry Falls. It reminded him of the make-believe towns his film characters lived in.
The carriage street lights lined the main street, giving a cozy glow to the cobblestone street stretched ahead. The red stop light forced Sam to look around at his surroundings where everything was sleeping, but one dim light. The Fatted Pig Diner was a welcome sight for a much needed cup of coffee. Too bad The Trembling Cup Coffee House wasn’t open, Sam thought looking at the inviting porch next to the twinkling waterfall.
“Ah, ha. The G
randberry Falls, namesake.” He wondered if he should go throw a coin in.
Odd, he’d never seen a town centered around such a beautiful feature.
Sam looked around for a parking lot only to notice off street parking. He had seen the Andy Griffith show as a child and never dreamed he would find himself smack dab in the middle of Mayberry.
Putting his keys in his pocket, he fingered the coins. The waterfall baited him to come and make a wish. Only he didn’t know what to wish for. He only knew he didn’t want to be an actor.
“Take a seat where ever you want.” The lady behind the counter called out to Sam when he pushed open the door. Yep, he thought, he was definitely in Mayberry or she could be Flo from Al’s diner. He chuckled to himself.
How endearing, Sam thought glancing around at the square retro dining tables, each properly set with coffee cups and silverware just waiting to be used.
He dare not sit at the bar. That looked like pissing territory from the stares he was receiving by the four older gentlemen sporting their John Deere caps.
Quietly he chose the table in the front right corner in eye shot of his car. He pulled the classic pleather diner chair causing a slight squeak, not looking up to see if anyone had notice. A shiver crept up his spine when the Dueling Banjo song from Deliverance started playing in his head.
“Mornin’. What can I get you?” The Flo look alike came up from behind the counter, filled the coffee cup and put the newspaper in front of him.
“Do you have a menu?” Sam didn’t seem to find one on the table. He had to concentrate on what she was saying in order to understand her twang.
“Nope. We make it all.” She twirled her pen in the air. “Basics, eggs, bacon, grits, biscuits.” She put the pen back in her falling down bun.