by Tonya Kappes
“Here ya go, Mitch.” Celia threw in an extra syllable to make her accent stand out. She wondered who the flowers were for, but she couldn’t break the unspoken florist rule—never ask.
“Great, Celia.” Mitch turned to Sam. “Beautiful. And thank for your help.”
Mitch held out his hand and Sam shook it.
“Hey come on downtown, and I’ll treat you to a beer at The Thirsty Turtle.” Mayor Dozier welcomed Sam into the community before he left with his bouquet.
Mitch’s never offered Celia a beer. She scowled and turned to go back to her orders.
“What was that about?” Celia asked as soon as the bell and Charlie signaled the customer had left.
“What?” Sam didn’t acknowledge the annoyed sound in her voice.
“You are the delivery boy. I am the owner. I am the floral expert.” She wanted to make sure he knew his place, even though he did sell something. “Besides, how did you know that?”
“Let’s just say I have had plenty of experiences with flowers.” He was hiding something and she was going to find out one way or the other.
“Flowers or women?” She had a hunch it was both.
“Flowers,” Sam said. “Look, I won’t do it again. You were upstairs and the dude started talking to me. I yelled your name.”
He was right, he did yell her name. “Maybe you should have excused yourself and came to get me.”
“And let him rob the place? No way.”
“Rob the place? Mitch? You’re kidding right?” Celia started to laugh, but he wasn’t. “You’re serious.”
She thought it was cute the way he was acting towards her.
“No I’m not kidding.” Sam’s eyes were a little softer, “Where I am from, people come in places and rob them or they hold them hostage. Besides you shouldn’t be here alone all day.”
“Please. This isn’t a third world country. Nor would a florist be the first ideal place for a robber and I have Charlie.” Celia pointed towards her watchdog that happened to love Sam.
“Plus, Mitch is a harmless farmer turned mayor.”
She picked up her shears and began to work her magic.
*
Sam knew he had messed up. He didn’t realize she had been listening or he’d played dumb about knowing what flowers mean what. Bianca was good at picking out certain flowers because of their meaning. Once she had made him go all over Los Angeles to find daffodils. “We have to have daffodils when my parent’s show up. They mean unrequited love.” Sam loved her brain and how it worked.
“Celia, I said I was sorry and I wouldn’t do it again.” Sam didn’t want to get into any more discussion of flowers or meanings or his past. He had gone most of the afternoon not thinking about Bianca. The memories were getting further and further apart. He loved Bianca, but he had to give himself some distance in order to continue to move ahead in his life. And wasn’t what this little detour in his life was?
“Are there any more deliveries for the night?” Sam was tired. He was ready to get back to his efficiency for the last time today. The best thing about this job was after each set of deliveries he was able to do as he pleased and he pleased to go home between deliveries.
“No, Sam.” Celia turned the open sign to close. Sam watched her glide through the English florist turning the lights off. “You will need to be ready for tomorrow. We have a funeral which means we stay for the funeral and move the flowers to the grave site.”
Funeral? He wasn’t ready for a funeral. “I didn’t sign up for funerals.” Sam yelled loud enough for her to hear him. “I am only a delivery boy.”
“Ah, Sam, you are a funny one, aren’t you.” Celia pointed her finger towards him, “its part of the job. If you can’t do it, you can quit.”
“That’s what you would like isn’t it, Celia?” Sam didn’t want to be messed with. “You want me to fail.”
“You’re crazy, Sam Reynolds.” Celia’s words stung him. She opened the door to let him out and her father in. “See you in the morning.”
The roast smelled great. Obviously she wasn’t inviting him to dinner. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had a home cooked meal. Bianca tried to make Thanksgiving dinner one time and burnt the turkey so bad its ass-end split wide open when it came out of the oven. It was the best Thanksgiving ever with Chinese and Bianca.
“Good evening, Sam.” Marty tipped the beal of his John Deere hat. “You staying for dinner?”
That was all Sam needed to hear to take another step back into the shop. “I guess I could change my plans.” He was trying to sound as if he was busy, which includes going back to the diner, eating with Mamie and retreating up the steel stairs.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t make enough for three people.” Celia held the door open as wide as it would go.
“Wow! You are a real bitter woman.” Sam pointed to Celia. He was tired of her treating him like crap. “Marty, would you like to have better company for dinner?”
Celia glared at Sam. “No. My father will be eating with his daughter.”
“Let him be a big boy and make the decision.” Sam’s eyes pierced her.
“Thank you Sam, but I have already accepted Celia’s request. But maybe tomorrow.”
Celia stormed up the steps. “Be ready to work tomorrow, Sam.” She hollered down.
Sam waited for Marty to say something, but he only shrugged his shoulders.
“Don’t worry about it.” Sam waved his hand towards Marty. “Mamie is expecting me at the diner, plus I had an invite from the mayor of Grandberry Falls.”
What a bitch, Sam thought when he slammed the old Chevy door. He’d always heard southern women were pros at welcoming strangers, and Celia must be the exception. There wasn’t anything acceptable about her behavior.
The gravel on the driveway pinged the sides of the truck. He didn’t care—a few more dents weren’t going to matter.
He peered in his rear-view mirror and stopped the truck. He turned around to watch Celia through the window smiling at some story Marty was telling her.
Sam’s body warmed when she threw her head back laughing, her head full of auburn colors cascading down her back. Maybe she was capable of the southern woman image. An image Sam would love to see.
“If you’re going through hell, keep going.”
Winston Churchill
7
Sam was mad. He was really mad. Why was he having a hard time connecting to Celia? He wasn’t used to being treated this way by a woman. Especially a beautiful woman.
“It would complicate things anyways,” Sam said out loud shaking his head. “Man, this broad is already driving you crazy.” He pictured Celia working with a customer, she always smiled. He loved how her pale skin made her hair look like fire. Natural beauty was something you don’t see in LA. Most women there have had dye jobs, boob jobs, any kind of job you can think of. But not Celia. She was one natural woman. Watching her made him more increasingly uncomfortable with the feelings she was bringing to his soul’s surface.
The old Chevy creped around the country roads as if it had its own mind. Sam wasn’t feeling like company for dinner and certainly didn’t feel like listening to the diner chatter. Mitch said he’d be at The Thirsty Turtle. He also mentioned beer and pretzels which is good enough for dinner.
The Chevy puffed a few times when Sam turned the key off. He snickered. There wasn’t a role in the movie industry as good as the real life role he was playing now.
Sam scanned the bar for Mitch. The bar stools were all taken with guys in cowboy hats watching the latest sporting event on one of the three televisions hanging on the wall behind the bar.
Sam nods when Mitch waves him over.
“I’m glad you stopped by. Tommy, get our new friend a beer.” Mitch yelled over to the surfer dude working the draft knobs.
“Here ya go.” Tommy flipped his shaggy blonde hair to the side. “Tommy Hensley.”
The hand shake was firm.
“Sam B, um, Re
ynolds, nice to meet you.” For a moment Sam lost track of his new life. It felt like he’d been here a long time, when in fact, only a few days.
“Whoo hoo, quitten’ time!” The butterscotch blonde coming toward them screamed while flinging her purse in the hair. “Baby, get me a beer.”
Sam leaned to the right to let the blonde reach across the bar and plant a big kiss on Tommy.
“Who’s this?” She put her perfectly manicured hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You must be the new delivery boy my granny keeps talking about.”
“You must be Belle, from The Hair Pin.” Sam stood up not forgetting his manners.
“Looks like we got us a gentleman.” She rubbed her hands through his new long layered look. “Granny’s right. You need a haircut if you’re going to win Celia Brigg’s heart.”
“I’ll be sure to keep you in mind when I do need a hair-cut, and I never said anything to Hazel Greenlee about dating Celia Briggs.”
Belle chomped on her gum, and smiled. “Oh, you don’t have to tell Granny. She knows these things. Right, baby?”
“Yep.” Tommy agreed before he moved on down the bar, refilling every empty glass.
The bar was filling up by the minute. Everyone coming in talking about getting off work at five was something new to Sam. On the movie set, you aren’t done until the director tells you you’re done. And that’s usually in the wee hours of the night.
“Lordy, here are my people!” Another blonde yelled over the blaring jukebox. “You must be the Sam.”
Celia was right, he was the talk of the town and didn’t know it.
“Sam Reynolds.” He stood up again, but she shooed him down.
Mitch stood up giving her his seat.
“This is Wendy Owens. She is a buyer for the Figure 8 Boutique.” After Mitch introduced her, he gave her a small kiss on her lips.
Sam wondered what that was about. It was friendly. Not a good boyfriend kiss, but crossing the line of a friendly kiss.
“Where’s Beth?” Mitch asked Wendy. “Beth Harrison is the owner of the Figure 8 Boutique and usually right behind Wendy.”
“She’s at the shop wondering what she can do to stop the outlet mall from coming. She’s afraid it’s going to put her out of business.” Wendy took a sip of the beer Tommy had sat in front of her.
“Fine line being mayor and friend. Especially when the city is divided about this whole outlet mall thing going on.” Mitch put his beer on the bar, and with a hint of fear in his eyes, he said, “I’m worried about it. Luckily, I have a few more months to find a happy medium to benefit Grandberry Falls.”
“You’ve got a hard job.” Sam said.
“You have no idea.” Mitch drank his beer staring ahead.
Yes I do, Sam thought. Mitch had no clue how Sam understood.
“I better get going.” Sam slapped a tip on the bar. He was use to leaving a big tip, but with little cash in hand, he’d have to make good on the tip later.
“Don’t leave. We are just getting started.” Belle held her mug up. “You going to the hoe down this weekend?”
“I’m not sure.” This was the first time Sam had even heard of the hoe down.
“My Granny would love to see you again.” Belle smiled. “Plus, everyone in town wants to get a look at the new guy.”
“I bet they do.” Sam waved bye.
If he did go to the hoe down, he’d make sure he was really disguised.
Before he crossed the street to go to his one-room apartment above The Fatted Pig, he walked over to the waterfall.
“Thank you Bianca,” he whispered throwing a penny in the waterfall in memory of the love of his life.
He ran across the street and around the side of the busy restaurant. Before going up the steps he looked at the cozy downtown, the heartbeat of Grandberry Falls.
With a little more satisfaction in his soul, he jotted up the steel steps.
Sam couldn’t wait to get in front of the TV. He clicked, but nothing was on but the tabloid shows. He stopped when he heard his name. The picture they showed was at least ten years old, making him look like a hormonal teenager.
He turned up the volume.
“Actor Sam Barber didn’t show up for any of his interviews about the upcoming filming of the new vampire manuscript. His agent issued this statement: Mr. Barber is taking a much needed leave of absence. As you know his beloved Bianca succumbed to cancer and he spent the last year of his life devoted to her. While taking care of Bianca, he did honor his commitments. Rest assured this is a short lived hiatus and he will be back to interviews in no time.”
Sam didn’t even care what people were saying about him after that. He turned the television off and threw the remote next to him. His agent couldn’t be further from the truth. There was no way he was going to call him and make things right. Sam wasn’t ready to go back. No one knew him here and he liked the freedom. The freedom from constantly running and the freedom from the paparazzi.
“Love is not blind; it simply enables one to see things others fail to see.”
Unknown
8
“That was unnecessary.” Disappointment dripped from Marty’s mouth. “You’re someone completely different around that poor boy.”
Celia couldn’t understand why Sam brought out the worst in her, much less try to explain to her dad how she felt. She needed to focus on the shop and keeping Sam at a distance would be the best thing to do.
“You know what, Dad,” Celia said trying not to show any emotions because her father was good at picking up on those little tidbits, “don’t get used to Sam. He is a wanderer. He won’t last long.”
Secretly Celia wanted to be proved wrong. There definitely wasn’t any man in town that looked like Sam or acted like Sam. He didn’t seem to care about John Deere or doing things at a snail’s pace. He was fast and had focus. Only problem with his focus, he wasn’t focused on her.
“Cee, that boy’s lost.” Marty filled his plate up with roast and potatoes. “Maybe he has a past, maybe he doesn’t. Just give him time and he will open up.”
Celia sat and listened to her father. He’d never given her advice on men before, it was always her mother. She liked the way her dad was caring and looking out for all parties involved.
“I need a delivery boy. Not a best friend.” Celia didn’t know who she was trying to convince, herself or her dad.
Celia was glad to see the evening come to an end. She was tired of all the small talk and dancing around Sam. She missed talking to her dad about all the conversations he had with the people he delivered flowers to. That part of their lives had come to an end, she’d have to find something else for them to talk about.
*
Falling autumn leaves tickled the window with the northern winds blowing into town. She knew all the leaves would fall off the trees within the next few hours and before day break she would wake to bare trunks.
The leaves blowing around caught Celia’s attention as she put Marty’s dishes in the sink. “I wonder where he’s from.” She made the blank statement out loud.
“The word around town is California,” Marty muffled. Celia turned looking at her father stuffing his face with the pumpkin pie he’d brought from The Fatted Pig.
“He’s a long way from home.” Celia was trying too hard not to bait him for more information. “Does he have family here?”
“Mamie said he’s living above the diner.” Marty wiped his mouth and took a big drink of the sweet tea Celia makes especially for him. Celia waited to see if he said anything else. “She also said that the day he came to town, he was driving that fancy car and when he came back in the afternoon, he was driving that beat up truck.”
“See I told you there is something is up with him.” Celia didn’t need to hear any more, but she had a deep ache to know more.
“Mamie also said he asked about you and your shop because he was reading the paper.”
Celia stopped eating and looked at her dad. “Why me?”
/> “She said he wanted a job.”
“Leave it up to this town to gossip.” Celia became somewhat irritated because just a day ago she was killing her father and now today she had hired a wanderer.
“She only told me because he specifically asked about the shop and she was looking out for us.” Celia didn’t understand why her father was having so many conversations with Mamie.
“When did you go to the Pig?” Celia tilted her head and furrowed her brows.
“I don’t give you my schedule. I’m a grown man and my friends meet up there sometimes.”
Marty seemed annoyed and she didn’t like it. He would’ve been all up in her business. Celia decided to let it be. She didn’t want her father to be upset with her. He was the only family she had and she loved him dearly.
“The Ladybug.” Celia looked at the clock. It was well past closing time, but sometimes Mamie would call if there was a death in the town to give Celia warning.
“Is Celia there please?” The voice asked with authority.
“This is she.” Celia figured it was a new order.
“This is Bob Pike with American Bank and I was looking at your loan. You have not been paying the correct amount. I was wondering if you are having some problems with your payment?”
“I’m sorry, I am with someone right now. Is there any way you can call me back during business hours?” Celia was aware she hadn’t been paying the adjustable rate.
When the one year arm mortgage came up, she was unable to secure a fixed rate. She was paying what she could, but she needed to order inventory for the shop.
She wasn’t about to ask her father for help or for a loan. It was hard enough getting his approval for the shop. Disappointing her father was not in her future. And now paying Sam didn’t help either.
“We seriously need to talk about this.” Celia was becoming increasingly annoyed with Bob’s persistence.
“Yes, we can talk tomorrow.” Celia gently hung the phone up. She didn’t want to give her father any indicator her business or life could be in trouble.