A Side of Faith, Hope and Love: The Sandwich Romance Novella Collection

by Krista Phillips

  She had no clue the location of you-know-where, but she doubted it left time for coming to work two and a half hours later.

  A bit of snark came over her and before she could stop herself, she clicked on the picture and typed a comment. “Hope you feel better, Sierra!”

  The moment she clicked post, she regretted it.

  But it sent a message and maybe the girl would learn a lesson.

  Closing out of Facebook, she went through the motions of printing out the orders that had come across overnight.

  Three of them, but considering the stack that sat waiting for her from yesterday, it was plenty.

  Hopefully, her driver wouldn’t bail on her today too. Otherwise, she’d be having to close up shop to make deliveries. Claire wasn’t expected in for another few hours, though, and unless something was really wrong, she’d be there. She was as dependable as a tulip blooming in spring.

  Thumbing through the orders, she smiled.

  A dozen red roses for Sandy Wright. Mr. Wright must be in the dog house again, as their anniversary wasn’t for another two months.

  The next one made her chuckle. The cheapest bouquet on the website. She’d bet next week’s profit it was from some love-sick teen to his new girlfriend for something cheesy like a one-week anniversary. She glanced at the delivery address. Sure enough, it was the high school with a request for delivery during lunch.

  Cute, but he’d be disappointed when he found out they were only allowed to deliver as far as the office.

  She shifted the paper to the third one, and her heart tugged with a pang of jealousy. One of her personal favorites, a bouquet of daisies. She had the perfect vase for those to go in too. She glanced at the recipient and paused.

  Blinking, she brought the paper closer to her eyes, making sure she’d read it right.

  Was that her name and her address?

  What in the world—she glanced up to find the senders name.

  Her heart drummed in her chest as the name registered, followed by a flush almost as hot as the ghost pepper chicken yesterday.

  Garrett Hanson was sending her flowers?

  But—why? All sorts of thoughts flooded. Was he pulling one of his old pranks? If so, it was an expensive prank. That bouquet set him back more than seventy bucks. Or—had someone told him about her two-decade-old crush? All her friends at the time had known, but that was old news. She’d moved on. More times than she could count. And if he’d sent her flowers because of that then—she couldn’t even let her mind go there.

  Glancing at the message, she curled her lips into a grin. Now that made a little more sense.

  It was good seeing you again, dork. Sorry I caught your mouth on fire yesterday, though. Forgive me? Signed— annoying teenage boy turned fire-wielding chef, Garrett

  They were guilt flowers. And his use of the nickname he and Jeff had always called her was strategically used to make her aware that he meant nothing more than what the message said. No romantic undertones.

  Good. She didn’t need romance anyhow.

  She’d never been good at the whole romance thing. Pragmatic was a much safer route to go.

  Pushing away from the desk, she cracked her knuckles as she headed for her flower prep table. She had three very different bouquets to make. And while working with flowers was always a lot of fun, making herself one and making money on it at the same time was a new and welcome experience.

  As she surveyed the daisies, she smiled. This was going to be more than a little fun.

  Three

  He was going to have to give in and join the Facebook.

  It had been two days since he’d sent Beth flowers, and he hadn’t heard a word. Granted, he wasn’t sure what he expected. It wasn’t like they’d exchanged phone numbers or saw each other on a regular basis. And he sure didn’t blame her for staying away from the Emporium for a while.

  He took a last look around the large kitchen, the counters and stainless steel appliances spotless, and flicked off the lights.

  Making his way across the empty dining room, he waved to Tilly, the general manager. “You need me to stay and walk you out?”

  She straightened from where she was rearranging the small vase of flowers on a table and shook her head. “Remember, you aren’t in Chicago anymore. I’ve been closing up by myself for years now.”

  Oh yeah. He still hadn’t adjusted back to small-town living. “How’s Adam doing?”

  “Pretty good. You heard our news, right?”

  They’d done a big online photo baby announcement. Reuben had shown him a picture of it. Adam in his white doctor’s coat holding baby booties and Tilly, shoeless, wearing jeans, holding an ultrasound picture. The caption at the bottom read, “The doctor agrees: she’s barefoot and pregnant.”

  Pretty funny picture for an OB/GYN and his wife, especially after all they’d been through.

  “Yes, congratulations. Adam must be ecstatic.”

  “You have no idea. This child will be the most checked-up on baby in the world. He listens to her heartbeat every night and sometimes in the morning.”

  “Her?”

  She shrugged. “Still over a month before we find that out, but I can’t stop calling the baby her. A sign maybe?”

  He wouldn’t know. He’d love to be a dad someday, but a wife was usually a good prerequisite for that. “Maybe. Well, I’ll talk to you later.”

  Garrett turned to go, but Tilly’s voice stopped him. “Oh, hey. Beth told me about the flowers you sent her.”

  He turned back, his ears perking up at Beth’s name. “Oh?” His mouth let out the word with a squeak reminiscent of a mid-pubescent boy. Great.

  Her mouth tipped into a grin, eerily similar to the one his mother had given him. Odd. “Yup. She said they were beautiful.”

  “Well, I’m glad she got them. I wasn’t sure—”

  “She was going to try to come in and thank you but got tied up and didn’t have your cell number. I could get it from your personnel file but, well, that’s kinda illegal so—”

  He smiled, seeing Tilly in the full light of the matchmaker she was attempting to be. “Do you have a pen and paper?”

  Her mouth formed a perfect O. “As a matter of fact, I just happen to have one right here.” She fished out an order pad and pen from her pocket and laid it on the table.

  “Imagine that.” He laughed as he scratched out his cell number on the pad. “No prank calls now, ya hear?”

  She grabbed the paper, tore it off and stuffed it in her pocket. “Too late. Prepare yourself for calls asking if your refrigerator is running.”

  “There’s this great thing they invented called call blocking. Heard of it?”

  She laughed and shook her head. “I’ll give it to her. G’night.”

  “’Night.” He strolled out the door and less than ten minutes later, was sitting down on the old floral couch in his mom’s living room, sending up a prayer of thanks that she was already in bed.

  Propping his feet on the coffee table, he pulled his Mac onto his lap and debated.

  He’d given Tilly his number to give to Beth. A little ninth grade but whatever.

  Still, he had an overwhelming urge to check her out.

  The only way he could think to do that was finally giving in to societal demands.

  A few clicks, and he was creating his account.

  A few more clicks, information entered, and he’d done it.

  Garrett Sebastian Hanson - official Facebook user.

  Yuck.

  Now he needed to friend people? He searched for his mom and blinked away unmanly tears that threatened to fall. A church directory picture of her and Dad was her profile picture. The banner on top of her page was a picture of flowers from Dad’s funeral.

  He clicked the Add Friend button.

  Next he looked up a couple of buddies from Chicago and the handful of people he still knew here in Sandwich.

  He sucked in a breath, not able to procrastinate any longer. He typed in Bet
h Jamison, and a few options popped up. He leaned forward to figure out which one was hers, but in a moment, he knew.

  One of the small thumbnail photos displayed a huge bouquet of daisies.

  His flowers? She’d liked them so much that she put it as her picture?

  For his profile, he’d uploaded a picture of him and his mom. Seemed appropriate since she was always the one badgering him about getting on here.

  Clicking on Beth’s daisy picture, he was bummed to find her wall—that was what people called it, right? —blank, with a note that only friends could view the data.

  Leave it to Beth to be all private and everything.

  He clicked the Add Friend button, but the page remained blank. How long would it take?

  The sound of clapping beat in his ears. “You did it!”

  He turned to see his mom behind him, a huge grin on her face. “I thought you were in bed? And be careful clapping. That can’t be good for your arm.”

  A scowl replaced her smile. “First, if you are going to insist on talking to me like I’m a toddler, you know where the door is. I was resting, but if you must know, I’m old. And with age comes multiple trips to the bathroom at night. Just wait. It’ll be your turn one day. Second, stop changing the subject. You’re trying to spy on Beth, aren’t you?”

  “I just wanted to see if she got the flowers.” He closed the laptop, even though his fingers itched to figure out what he’d done wrong and why he still couldn’t see her page. No way would he confess that to his mother, though. “Her picture shows she did, so I guess I’m good.”

  She eyed him with suspicion. “Fine. But in case you were curious, the Facebook won’t let you see her posts until she approves your friend request.”

  Mortification melted over him like chocolate on a jalapeno. “Wait, you mean it sends her a message saying I looked at her page?” She was going to think he was stalking her or something. Not good. Not good at all.

  “Everybody does it, honey. Don’t fret about it.” She shuffled over and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Good night dear.” Humming to herself, she padded back to her room.

  Did his mother just use the words everybody does it to him?

  Shaking his head, he opened up his computer again. A notification popped up on his screen. Beth Jamison has accepted your friend request.

  Wow. That was fast. And she was up late.

  After clicking the refresh button, the page reloaded to look much different. Her most recent post was the day before, announcing that she had changed her profile picture. A handful of people had commented about how pretty the flowers were.

  A box flashed up on the screen at the bottom, filled with Beth’s name.

  B: Welcome to Facebook, meanie!

  Ah. She’d gotten his message and was retaliating with her own nickname for him. He smiled as he typed.

  G: My mom couldn’t stop raving about THE Facebook. Thought I better check it out to make sure it wasn’t some senior citizen scam. I see you got the flowers?

  B: Yup. They are my FAVORITE! How did you know I love daisies?

  G: Educated guess.

  He had no idea, but then again, she could just be saying that to be nice. Maybe she hated daisies.

  B: I was going to call you, but I realized I didn’t know your number. Didn’t have time to stop by yet. Sorry.

  He shrugged, then reminded himself how stupid that was. Not like she could see him.

  G: No prob. Just glad you got them, and again, sorry. Hope you’ll come back in for a NORMAL chicken sandwich, on the house of course.

  B: Reuben might be mad if he finds out you’re giving away food.

  G: We basically poisoned you with ghost pepper sauce. Reuben would be mad if he found out you’d paid for your next meal, and you know it.

  B: True.

  His fingers paused over the keyboard. What now? He was rusty at this whole talking-to-a-girl-he-kinda-likes thing. He’d been so busy with the restaurant in Chicago that he’d had little time for dating since he got charge of his own kitchen. And working most every evening had never been conducive to much dating. Two or three dates had been his max for years, except for Dayna.

  If he were honest, no one had ever interested him as much as Beth had all those years ago. His dates were all shallow and surface, and he longed for the deep, lasting relationship he’d seen in his parents. Even though he and Dayna had dated for more than a year, he’d panicked when she started hinting at wedding ring shopping.

  Despite his nerves, he’d finally gotten down on one knee. They had been the perfect couple, after all. He figured all men got jittery at the thought of marriage.

  A sharp pain of regret sliced through him. If only he’d listened to those jitters—

  Clicking back on her page, he scrolled down, hoping something would give him a good conversation piece to start. But as his eyes were roaming, another message came through.

  B: Well, I need to get to bed. Work calls early in the morning.

  Ah, perfect topic. Although he should let her get to sleep—

  G: What do you do?

  No dots came up showing that she was typing. Odd. A minute later, a response finally popped onto the screen.

  B: I own a florist shop. The Flowering Petal.

  She owned—

  A nauseous wave hit his stomach. He’d ordered a florist flowers? Why had no one let him in on this? His mom had to have known. Surely he hadn’t—

  G: Please tell me I didn’t order you flowers from one of your competitors. I mean, I guess that might have been better than ordering flowers FROM you FOR you but—

  It only took a few moments for her reply.

  B: No, the order came to my shop. Actually, it was super fun to make my own bouquet, paid for by someone else. A first for me! I hope you don’t mind, I added some extra daisies free of charge. Believe me, it would have been much weirder to get them from a different shop! AWKWARD! :-)

  Typical Beth. Trying to make him feel better for being an idiot. Then again, it wasn’t his fault. How would he have known? His mother, on the other hand, had known good and well Beth’s occupation. And Tilly hadn’t warned him about his faux pas either. Crazy, scheming women.

  G: You know what’s odd? Neither my mother nor Tilly let me in on the secret.

  Another minute passed before a response came through.

  B: I, uh, have a sneaky feeling they are looking at themselves as matchmakers, which as we both know is crazy.

  Garrett frowned. He didn’t think it was that crazy. But no way was he going to say that if she thought it was.

  G: Yeah, I think you’re right. We need to get them back somehow. Pull a little prank for old times’ sake.

  Jeff and Garrett had been professional pranksters, with most every teen and teacher in town being on the receiving end at one point or another. Beth had even helped them a few times. They’d never been caught, though. Suspected, yes. Every single time. But they were masterful planners and no one had ever been a hundred percent sure.

  Except Beth of course.

  B: You know what would be funny?

  A goofy excitement bubbled in him that he hadn’t felt since he was a teenager. Acting like an adult was overrated sometimes, right?

  G: No, but I think you have an idea I’d love to hear.

  B: What if we pretended their plan worked? That we were like dating or something crazy stupid like that? They’d be all like “AHHH! We did it!” and we’d be all like, ha ha ha, who has the last laugh when we tell them we were kidding and the joke’s on them.

  Garrett sat back on the couch, his stomach tied in a hundred knots. That was the dumbest thing he’d ever heard. Pretending to date the girl he used to have a crush on? The woman who threatened to bring that crush back in full force?

  It was the stupidest, most dangerous idea possible.

  He hesitated only a moment more before typing a reply.

  G: I’m in.

  Four

  What. Had. She. Been. Thi
nking.

  Beth shoved roses into a vase, her mind nowhere near the job at hand.

  Pretending to date Garrett?

  Seriously?

  The only explanation for the complete loss of her senses was exhaustion. She’d tossed and turned the last two nights since the whole flower thing, debating what to do. Ignoring the gift seemed wrong. Going to thank him in person seemed desperate. Asking Tilly for his phone number had been her last resort, one she regretted immediately.

  Her idea had been just to text a quick thanks and move on, but then Tilly had refused to give it to her without getting Garrett’s permission first. Something had felt fishy at that moment. Then last night her phone had buzzed with his friend request while she laid sleepless in her bed.

  She should never have approved it.

  Never should have messaged him.

  Never should have suggested what she did. It’d seemed hilarious and vindictive last night. She hadn’t even been serious, thinking he’d come back with some joking remark and then suggest they go old school with toilet paper in Tilly’s front yard or something.

  Never in her most far-fetched dreams had she expected him to agree.

  And in the light of day, she just wanted to delete her Facebook page and move to Alaska and hide out for a few years.

  They needed florists in Alaska, right? Did flowers even grow that far North?

  Stepping back from the vase of roses, she grimaced. The arrangement looked like a two-year-old had gotten into it.

  Get it together, Beth. This was a rush job for her pastor, who wanted to surprise his wife with flowers.

  Which was weird. It wasn’t even her birthday or their anniversary. Maybe he was in the dog house. Pastors were human too, right?

  But he’d be here in a few minutes to pick it up, and no way was she going to give him this monstrosity.