The Final Arrangement

by Annie Adams

  “Hello!” A male voice yelled from just outside the doorway.

  I shrieked. Balance was lost and limbs flailed. Water flew everywhere, mostly on me, and the overturned bucket landed on my head.

  I ripped it off and peered between chunks of wet, dripping bangs to see a couple in their sixties staring at me from the middle design room. They looked frightened.

  “I’m so sorry,” the man said. “We didn’t know if anyone was here.”

  “Yes—I’m here,” I replied feebly. I wasn’t embarrassed by my appearance so much as wondering how much of my routine they had seen.

  “Are you okay?” The woman asked.

  “Oh, I’m fine, just fine.” I grabbed a work towel and ushered them up to the front counter. “What can I help you folks with?” I said in the lightest, happiest voice I could draw out. Pools of water collected on the counter top.

  The woman said, “We didn’t actually come in to order flowers; we just wanted to know if you’d heard anything from the police lately?”

  Police? I got a lump in my throat and felt tears working their way to the ducts—far too easily. Dear Lord, what now?

  The man took over the talking. “Oh, my. We’ve really caused a mess for you today.”

  “I’m okay, really…” My voice cracked and the tears came.

  “What my wife meant to say is that we saw a hit-and-run the other day involving your delivery van. We saw it happen as we were driving past on our way to the airport. We would have stopped, but we were late for our flight as it was. So we called the police on the cell phone and told them about it. We just got back into town today, and my wife was just worried sick about it. We haven’t even been home yet.”

  “You saw the hit-and-run?” Things were suddenly sunnier.

  “My wife saw the lettering on the back doors of your van, and recognized the name of your shop and.…”

  The wife interrupted, "We were in line to turn left you know, and a little red pick-up truck come around our left side. After switching back and forth through the story, they came to describe the accident just as Nick had done, with the same details.

  “Oh my goodness. You don’t know how happy I am that you came in.” This time the tears in my eyes were due to relief that there were witnesses, or quite possibly because something had swung in my favor.

  He continued, “Well like I said, we couldn’t stop then, but we called the police and talked to someone there at the station.”

  “Did you by chance get the name of the person you talked to?”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t think to ask. At first a woman answered, and after we told her what we saw, she transferred us to an officer, a man. He said he would take down our information, and make sure the owner of the van knew about it.”

  “Well I am so glad you came in. I just can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

  The wife said, “I wish we had more information for you. It all happened so fast. We couldn’t see the license plate of the truck, just the color, really.”

  “You both deserve a reward for this. I’ll be right back.” My hair dripped a trail to the cooler and I ducked in and grabbed a large mixed flower arrangement off of the display shelf.

  “I would like you to have this,” I told them as I put it in a specially designed carryout box.

  “Well isn’t that sweet?” The wife said. I took down their contact information, and thanked them again.

  As they left I wondered why Alex hadn’t told me about this. According to the couple, he got their report right after the hit-and-run happened. Why would he omit such a crucial piece of information? And wasn’t it his duty to report it to me? Maybe he hadn’t made sure they were legitimate yet, since they had been out of town.

  He said he believed me about the case, but still, these witnesses would have relieved my mind—at least regarding the hit-and-run. Worst of all, he knew. He knew the whole time.

  I decided to call the police department and find out why I wasn’t in the loop and to distract myself from the pain in my heart.

  The dispatcher at the police station told me I would have to speak to the officer who handled the case, but that he was unavailable. Yeah, tell me about it. I told her I didn’t want to leave a message. I would for sure leave a message on Alex’s cell phone this time.

  Reluctantly, I pushed the numbers on the phone. I paused before I pushed that last seven. I rolled my eyes at my own silliness. We were just talking about a case. That’s all. I pushed the blasted seven.

  I heard one ring, then hung up. Chickened out. What was my problem? I was angry with him for ignoring me? No.

  The problem—the real truth—was that in the short time we had known each other, I was already relying on him for my emotional well-being. And that was absolutely against my rules for the way I was going to live life, post-ex-husband. I realized I couldn't yet trust my own judgment when it came to men. I just didn’t have enough experience and I was worried I was merely infatuated. The way I felt in seventh grade, after a ninth-grader, Jeremy Briggs picked up my dropped notebook. Besides daydreaming about our wedding day on an hourly basis from then on, I also wrote "Mrs. Quincy Briggs" in that same notebook about a thousand times before realizing Jeremy wasn't that cute. In fact, he was stinky and weird and still is to this day.

  I really did need to talk to Alex. I would come clean about my feelings. We could be friends, I could find other people to date, play the field. Or not. Maybe I would become a spinster like my aunt and once I saved enough money, I would travel the globe like she did and live a romantic, single, celibate life eating baguettes and wearing a beret at various outdoor cafés in Europe.

  Yes. I would call Alex and face the music. Time to put the big girl panties on.

  I punched in the number as fast as I could and took a deep breath. After the first ring, the voicemail picked up. I almost disconnected, but decided if I didn’t do it now, I never would.

  “Alex, this is Quincy…”

  Before I could finish my message, Alex walked in the front door.

  “Hi—I was just leaving you a message.”

  He slowly sauntered toward the front counter where I stood. “Well now you can tell me in person. How are you, Beautiful?”

  He flashed a sexy grin and leaned his hip against the counter in a casual pose. I steadied my resolve and I told myself to batten down the hatches. I would not ignore what needed to be said or done just because of those long, jeans-clad legs and that strong handsome jaw and…oh my, I was starting to take on water.

  “I came in person to tell you that my phone is totally ruined and I haven’t had time to get a new one. Of course that’s not the main reason for the visit. I wanted to see you.”

  “Oh.” This could change my feelings about celibacy and the single life, just a tad. “So, you haven’t heard any of the messages I left?”

  “Not since Friday. Why? What’s up?”

  “What’s up? Don’t you work for the police?" I felt the heat rising along my neck and in my cheeks. A joke was a joke, but this was just cruel. "You know what’s up. You're kidding around…right?”

  “Quincy, what are talking about?”

  “Friday. Friday is what I’m talking about. I mean I get that your phone was broken, but you couldn’t find another phone? Don’t you have to be reachable for work? And speaking of your workplace, I’m sure you all had a real good laugh at my expense on Friday.”

  “The only thing that I recall about Friday, Quincy, is that I was late going to work because I was apparently wasting my time learning what a hydrangea is, where to find one—which was not easy by the way—and how to plant it.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “Not only that, but I went all the way into Ogden to some special boutique that I was told is the only place to buy the expensive stationary I used to write your card. That’s the only thing I know about Friday. I thought you would appreciate the flowers. I guess I was wrong.”

  “You did that?” I said, confused.
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br />   “Yeah, I did that. Wasn’t it obvious?”

  “No, I didn’t see any card. You wrote me a note? On stationary?”

  “Yes, I wrote you a note on some fancy damn stationary. And if I might say so, it was a great big pain in the ass.” His hands were planted at his hips, his elbows bent out sharply.

  “Alex—I had no idea. Honestly, I didn’t see any kind of card.”

  “No card? I put it right on top of the plant. It had your name written on the front.”

  “We had a microburst on Saturday; maybe we had one Friday too, during the day when I was still at the station.”

  “Station? What station?”

  “Alex, that isn’t funny. I’m embarrassed enough. You know what I’m talking about.”

  “In the note that I left you, I said that I wouldn’t be available for a couple of days because of work. Something came up last minute. I would have called to tell you, but I dropped my phone in the bucket of water I used to plant your hydrangea. I was running late, and I had already gone and bought the stationary and written the note, so I just scribbled a message on the back. I haven’t had time to get a new phone yet. So, if I missed something from one of your messages I’m sorry.”

  “Oh.” Did it just get ten degrees hotter in the shop? “You know, you didn’t miss much. Really, I’m probably making too big a deal out of it anyway. In fact, when you do get a new phone, you don’t need to listen to any of the messages from me. Just delete away.” A lame, withering chuckle escaped my mouth.

  “You sounded pretty upset a second ago. What happened on Friday, Quincy?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it here. Let’s go in the back,” I said.

  “Quincy, why is it all wet back here? And why are you?”

  “I had a run in with a crazed water balloon bomber. Alex, do you swear to me you don’t know about Friday?”

  “I swear, Scout’s honor.” He lifted one hand like he was taking an oath then made an “X” across his chest with the other. “What happened?”

  “I was arrested.”

  “What?” He laughed—way too heartily for my liking. “No, seriously…”

  “It’s not funny! Detective Arroyo came in here to ask me questions about Derrick Gibbons. He said I was the last person to be seen with Derrick alive.”

  Alex wasn’t laughing any more. “So he arrested you?” The words sizzled with anger as they left his mouth. “What was the charge?”

  “Assault with a deadly weapon.”

  “Quincy, this isn’t funny. What really happened?”

  I explained the whole knife thing and even showed him the deadly floral weapon.

  “Are you okay?” He came over and put his arms around me.

  I am now. I rested my cheek on his shoulder. His arms felt so strong around my shoulders. His masculine aroma, complete with a hint of the perfect aftershave made me feel like I could melt into him. So maybe an infatuated fool wasn't such an awful thing to be.

  Okay, get a hold of yourself. Remember the rules. “I’m fine." I said. "It wasn’t that bad.” I leaned back, not willing—make that able to completely break physical contact with him. He was sort of like my caffeine addiction; I could cut back on the good stuff, but couldn't quit it completely.

  “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. This wouldn’t have happened if…”

  “Arroyo has it out for me. I don’t know why, but I don’t think you could have prevented it. I tried to call you from the station but with your phone being dead you couldn’t have known. But I thought at least Kathy or someone from the station would have mentioned that I asked for you.”

  “I’m so sorry, Quince. They don’t know where I was.”

  I stepped back out of his arms, it was easier this time. “I thought you said you were late for work?”

  “I was. It was for…training. I’m doing some tactical training for gang units in another city and we don’t like to talk about it too much.” He winked. “We don’t want the gangsters to find out about it,” he whispered sarcastically.

  “Oh.” There was something funny about the way he told me about the training. But I supposed he shouldn’t be talking to me about anti-gang tactics at all.

  “So, assault with a deadly weapon?” He said. “Should I be afraid right now, alone with you in this little room?”

  “You should watch yourself, I can be dangerous.”

  “I have no doubt about that. But seriously, Quincy, please be careful. I’ll make sure Arroyo doesn’t bother you anymore but I worry about you. You won’t let me help you.”

  “I don’t need any more help. You’ve already done enough for me. I assumed the worst when I couldn’t reach you on Friday. I’m really sorry. You must still think I’m crazy.”

  “Would now be a bad time to ask about your new hairdo?”

  I had totally forgotten about my new drowned rat look.

  “Well, it’s a funny coincidence. The couple that came in and scared me into this hairdo said they saw the hit-and-run. They said it happened like Nick described. Now we have witnesses. They told me they called the police station after it happened and that they spoke to the officer handling the case. That would be you, Officer Cooper. Why didn’t you tell me they called?”

  “No one called me. This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

  I put my hands on my hips and didn't prevent the suspicious expression from showing on my face.

  “I swear, Quincy. I never got a call from anyone.”

  “I took their information down. I’ll give it to you, but you have to promise you’ll call them.”

  “Of course I will. I’ll clear everything up. Listen, the other thing I wanted to tell you in person was that I had a great time the other night but…”

  Here we go. Better to have a good offense rather than have to play defense. That whole willingness to play the fool thing was a passing fancy. I was not going to get dumped. A mutual agreement to be done with each other would be fine. But I wasn't going to be kicked to the curb.

  I folded my arms and put more space between us. “You don’t have to explain anything, Alex. I get it. It just isn’t going to work out. I dragged you into my crazy life with the whole Allie’s boyfriend thing and that was just the tip of the iceberg, wasn’t it? Really, I would run the other way if I were you.”

  “Hold on there." He gently tugged on my tightly folded arms. "I was going to say I had a great time the other night but I’m afraid we won’t be able to start where we left off until I get back in town.”

  “Oh.” I cringed. How is it I keep doing that foot-in-the-mouth-thing?

  “Do you think things aren’t working out?”

  Ugh. He did not need to know about the psychotic roller coaster of emotions I had been on regarding our relationship. Especially not the ride I took just minutes before he arrived. I needed to relax and let things go where they would, and stop wrestling for control of every small bit of—everything.

  “No, I think things—you, especially—are great. My life is nuts, but that isn’t your fault. I just feel guilty for dragging you into Allie’s mess, not to mention my recent criminal past, and my exploding tires.”

  “You didn’t drag me into anything; I had to find some way to get closer to you.” He pulled me toward him and looked down into my eyes. He touched my wet hair and chuckled. “You are crazy, but I’m having fun.”

  I stuck my tongue out and crossed my eyes. He laughed and put his arms around me again.

  “I’ll miss you while I'm gone,” he said.

  I leaned away from him, "Why are you leaving again?"

  "I told you about the Metro force training out in Tooele, didn't I?"

  My shoulders slumped. "Oh, yeah. You did.” I sighed. “You guys sure do a lot of training. Anyway, I guess I forgot. I've been a little distracted."

  "It's understandable." He hugged me again despite my still-soggy state. "I’d feel better if someone were here to keep you company. By the way, how are things going with Allie?”
<
br />   “She’s back with Brad. She claims he’s suddenly changed. He’s been on best behavior lately, but that will end soon. She's out with him now. He took the day off to go shopping with her. She thinks it’s a sign he really cares about her and that he’s changed. I tried to tell her it’s all part of his manipulation. He’ll be back to his usual behavior, but it will be worse the next time it starts up again. He’s allowing her to work here, just to show what a great guy he is. I told her that if he touches her, I will find a way to make him hurt just as much.”

  “Quincy, stay out of it. I don’t want you to get hurt too.” He brushed a wet strand of hair off of my cheek with his finger.

  “Don’t worry; I know what I’m doing.”

  “Uh-huh. Whatever you say, Quince.”

  “It’s just so frustrating. I can’t force her not to see him. He’s so bad for her. But she won’t listen to me even though I know first hand what could potentially happen. You just can’t force someone you care about to do something just because it’s good for them.”

  He sighed and then smiled at me. “Don’t I know it?”

  I jokingly punched his arm.

  “You know, we could start where we left off the other night right now instead of waiting until I get back.” He wrapped his arms around my waist.

  “Are you saying I’m someone you care about that can’t be forced to do what you want?”

  “I am,” he said in his masculine, stomach butterfly-inducing voice.

  He dipped his head and slowly bent toward me.

  “How long will you be gone?” I asked.

  This time he drew back. “Only a couple of days. Why? You don’t need me for anything do you?”

  “Of course not. I just wanted to make plans, that’s all.”

  “Ooh, a welcome home surprise. I love it!”

  “I didn’t mean…”

  He pulled me into him. Electricity flowed through me as his chest pressed against my breasts. His lips touched mine so gently in contrast to the strength of his embrace. A zing shot through my core and I held him tighter. My pulse pounded, I wanted to keep kissing him all day. A happy moan came from low down in his throat. With my eyes closed, the only awareness I had was of his soft, perfect mouth and the way that it fit perfectly with mine.