Carnations and Deadly Fixations

by Abby Reede

  “The arrangement?” Tracy asked. “They’re carnations. Surely you’ve heard of carnations?”

  Rose bit back a chortle, appreciating how slyly and surreptitiously her niece had scored a punch.

  “I know what carnations are, dear. It’s the arrangement I was referring to.”

  “Yes?” Rose asked.

  “You know very well what I mean, Rose. This arrangement is one of my classic designs. How do you get off copying one of my original creations? It’s blatant copyright infringement!”

  “You have got to be kidding me, Becky,” Rose replied, “Frank and I were arranging flowers when you were still wetting your diapers.”

  This time it was Tracy who smiled inwardly at her aunt’s parry.

  “I’d love to see how you copyright a flower arrangement, Becky. That’s nonsense and you know it.”

  “Fine,” Becky retorted. “Go ahead and reopen your little hobby. Time has passed you by, Rose. It’s too late. You’ll never be able to compete with me, not in your wildest dreams!”

  With that she stomped off and slammed the door of In Season behind her.

  “Copyright a flower arrangement? Is she completely nuts?” Tracy asked shaking her head as she and Rose watched Becky tromp off in a hissy fit.

  Rose sighed.

  “I appreciate you defending me, Tracy, and I really am obliged that you came onboard to try and help me, but maybe she’s right.”

  “What?” Tracy exclaimed incredulously.

  Rose sat dejectedly in a chair near the prototype carnation setup.

  “Back before the Becky White Tsunami hit Fern Grove, there was this other florist in town—Madeline Murray. She was nice. She and Frank and I all got along. There was no conflict, no threats, none of the drama you just saw. We worked together in fact, helped each other out when push came to shove. I’m just tired of Becky White, her superiority complex, her constant putdowns and attacks on me and In Season.”

  “You can’t just roll over and quit, Aunt Rose! Not because Becky White thinks she is better than everyone!”

  “It’s not just today, Tracy. This kind of thing is a routine with her. I think she actually enjoys tormenting me. Frank used to be around to head her off, but now…”

  Tracy sat with her aunt and took her hands in her own.

  “Maybe I should just sell the place. I am sure I could get a good price for it. Just sell it off and avoid all the Becky Whites of the world.”

  “Look at me Aunt Rose.”

  Rose looked up and it broke Tracy’s heart to see tears forming in her eyes.

  “I know this is hard. Everyone in town knows about ‘Becky the Witch’. You cannot stop just because of her. I know you miss Uncle Frank and working side by side with him. But just give me a chance with this and I promise you In Season will shine again like it did when you first began!”

  Rose looked into her eyes and smiled as she wiped away her tears.

  “OK. I’ll try. For you, Tracy. I love you, you know…”

  “I love you, too.”

  Rose laid her head on Tracy’s shoulder and they just sat like that for a few seconds. A ringing phone broke them from their reverie. Rose went to the handset and talked a few minutes as Tracy looked on. She had no idea what was being said, but the look on her aunt’s face told it all as her anguish and torment from Becky’s visit morphed into joy and happiness.

  “What was that all about?” Tracy asked.

  But before Rose could explain, more calls began to come in, all having the same effect on her. She hung up after the last of the barrage of calls to see old friends and customers waving their encouragement from the large plate glass window out front. A few even poked their heads inside to let Rose know how excited they were to see the new shop.

  “Seems like a good sign of In Season getting back on people’s radars in Fern Grove, don’t you think, Aunt Rose?”

  She nodded, now mostly smiles but there was this lingering anxiety that was mixed in as well.

  “You OK, Aunt Rose?”

  “I’m not sure. That last call? Apparently, the spots you put on the radio and in the paper have gone out. That is why people are calling and dropping by.”

  “But that’s great, right?”

  “Yes and no. Great that people in Fern Grove still love me and In Season, but the timing of what they said? Something is wrong.”

  “Wrong?”

  “You told them we were opening again in a month, right?”

  “I did. So?”

  “Well, according to the calls, the radio spots and the newspaper ads are saying we are launching the new shop next week!”

  “What? Next week? Oh, boy….”

  “What do we do, Tracy?”

  “Media announcements cannot be undone, Aunt Rose. I guess we just roll up our sleeves and jack the grand opening into overdrive. What else can we do?”

  Rose smiled weakly once Tracy had her say and then grinned wickedly.

  “I guess. Based on that little episode, I think this new grand opening just might kill the witch…..”

  3

  G rateful that the snafu in the announcement of the grand opening had happened in an expeditious manner, Tracy threw everything she had into the preparations. Rose was still reeling a bit over the revelation and realization of what a short time line they had to get everything done, but Tracy loved it. For the first time since she had been idle professionally, she felt energized and excited over the challenge. And the unwelcome intrusion from Becky White was helping motivate her as well. She knew this had not been Becky’s intention when she had barged in to denigrate the shop and gloat over her own success, but all the same, it was adding to Tracy’s normally upbeat and positive approach to life.

  She had run home that afternoon to check in on Sydney, her cat and best friend at her apartment. Knowing he might not be getting the same level of attention from her that she normally lavished on him for a few days—at least until she and Rose could bring the treadmill they had found themselves on to a stop. Sydney had come to her while she was still working at CMB in Portland. Tracy had never been a huge pet person, but the pathetic and heart-wrenching cries of the poor cat when he just appeared on her doorstep, huddling against a soaking storm, had changed all that. Sydney did not appear neglected or starving in particular, just lost, sopping wet and miserable.

  After a thorough and extensive search of her neighborhood to try and locate his owners, Tracy finally just took him in. All his simple violet collar had on it was a well-worn tag, his name etched in silver block letters, just barely decipherable from wear and tear on the oval. By the time she had exhausted her search, Sydney had ensconced himself into her home and heart and there was no going back for either of them. Soon it was like the pair had always been together and to her amazement—at least from what Tracy had heard and had read about cats being aloof creatures—it was Sydney who had been her emotional anchor in the early days of her dismissal from CMB.

  As was his normal pattern, Sydney came running and meowing when Tracy dashed in that afternoon to try and get extra food, water, and other creature comforts set up for him. Knowing what was ahead, she had no idea what her schedule for the next few days might be like. She felt foolish as she scooped him up and lavished affection on him, explaining why things were likely to be a bit off between the two of them for a while. And without trying to attach human characteristics to him too much, Tracy smiled as Sydney gave her this look as if to say,

  “no biggie…it’s cool…you do what you need to and I’ll hold down the fort until all is back to normal…”

  And with that taken care of, Tracy hustled back to the shop where Rose was still hip-deep in the florist materials, advertising gear, cans of paint and other refurbishing supplies that Tracy had left for her to begin the marathon session they were embarking on. Rose’s initial reaction of being overwhelmed and unsure of moving forward with Tracy’s plan seemed to have been vanquished, perhaps also fueled by “whirlwind-Becky”. Tracy
could hardly believe it was the same woman she had just left as she came back to find her aunt actually singing and humming to herself as she worked. Tracy smiled broadly and then dove in as well and she and Rose found that though the to-do list was long, they were paring it down rapidly and thoroughly enjoying each other’s company as they toiled.

  Hours turned to days, and though fatigued and moving a bit slower than normal, Tracy and Rose stood just in front of the flower prep table, back in the rear of the store, and gazed with wonder and pride at the finished product.

  “Oh my God, Tracy…” Rose exclaimed as she held her hand to her mouth, “you did it! You actually did it!”

  “Me?” Tracy inquired with faux disgust, “unless I am mistaken, Aunt Rose, I seem to remember having some help in this thing. Help that was key to getting us ready for the grand re-opening.”

  Rose blushed at her comments. She had always been one to shy away from praise and blowing her own horn, but she took Tracy’s thanks in stride, realizing she was right: she had been a big part of the new shop…it had just taken her driven, bubbly niece with the necessary vision and ambition to get her back on track. It was not quite the same as when she and Frank had created In Season, but it did remind her of why she had loved the business in the first place. She hugged Tracy warmly, still amazed they had been able to pull it all together so quickly.

  “Monday’s the big day, Aunt Rose. You want to give the place a last-minute spit-shine while I hit the streets?”

  “You sure that is necessary…hitting the streets, I mean?”

  “Cannot hurt. Lots of foot traffic today and after church services tomorrow that I’d like to be in front of, so when we open the doors on Monday, we have left no stone unturned, marketing-wise.”

  Rose nodded as Tracy scooped up an armful of flyers and headed for the busy square just to the west of the shop where there were lots of cafes, boutiques, and other gathering places. She handed out the colorful brochures as she talked up the new shop, with familiar faces, as well as new ones. As she was about a third of the way through her supply, a young teenager approached and touched her gently on her arm after taking a flyer.

  “Are you Tracy Adams?” the girl asked.

  Something about the trim, blonde looked familiar to Tracy, but she could not place her.

  “I am. Have we met?”

  “Yeah…guess I’ve changed a lot over the years. Tiffany…Tiffany Baker…you used to baby sit me when I was just a kid?”

  Like a bolt of electricity, it hit Tracy.

  “Tiffany! Now I remember you! Wow, have you changed!”

  The girl reached out and hugged her lightly.

  “Last time I saw you, you were just this gangly, little thing! Now look at you!”

  “Thanks…of all the sitters I ever had, I never forgot you Miss Adams. You were so cool to me!”

  “Nice of you to say, Tiffany…and please call me Tracy.”

  “I heard you had gone up to Portland, Tracy. What brings you back to Fern Grove and…”

  She hesitated as she looked down at the flyer… “…In Season…?”

  Tracy was caught off-guard by her inquiry, but knew it was a natural curiosity, not having been around for so long.

  “Oh…life happens, Tiffany. Just one of those things. Back to help my Aunt Rose with her shop. What are you up to these days? You must be in high school by now, right?”

  “Just graduated, actually. Sort of at loose ends for the moment…not real sure what is next, you know?”

  “Not thinking of college?”

  Tiffany shrugged.

  “I don’t know…maybe someday. But right now, it just does not feel right for me. My parents are not too thrilled with that decision, but it is what it is, I guess…”

  Tracy nodded, remembering a good friend of hers from school who had a similar outlook when she had gone away to the University of Portland. Sarah was bright and ambitious and as positive as Tracy had been back then, but college was not just in her plans. And now, Sarah was running a very successful catering company just outside Corvallis, reminding Tracy that college was indeed not ideal for all.

  “How about this summer? Plans?”

  “Not really, why?”

  “Well…” Tracy said as she walked with Tiffany to a nearby bench and sat with her in the shade. “Since you are, as you say, at loose ends at the moment, I was wondering if you’d be interested in working with me and my aunt at In Season?”

  “Really?”

  Tracy nodded.

  “We are rebranding the old florist shop to be more modern and up-to-date and I think a young, pretty, hip assistant would be perfect for us.”

  “For real?”

  “We need all the help we can get, Tiffany. It won’t be a flashy or high-profile thing. Meaning not a lot of money for now…but maybe it will give you a taste of something you might want to pursue down the road. You never know what may appeal to you…”

  “Not flashy and high-profile, like a cashier at McDonald’s or stocking shelves at Walmart?”

  They both laughed.

  “I’d love it, Tracy. When can I start?”

  “Right now, Tiffany.”

  She handed her a thick layer of flyers and told her they needed to inundate the town as thoroughly as possible before the official opening on Monday morning.

  “Drop by Monday around 8 AM and we will get you set up in the shop, figure out a schedule for you and your pay…teach you as we go, OK?”

  Tiffany smiled broadly and held the flyers tight to her chest as she ran off to cover the areas of the business district that Tracy knew would make it a stretch for her do on her own. Once Tiffany was out of sight, Tracy exhaled deeply and pushed herself up off the bench to finish up her rounds in the square. But before she could take more than a few steps, she spotted Pastor Kevin Butler, the older minister in Fern Grove who had been leading the services at the First Baptist Church since she had been a kid. He waved to her and she strolled over to say hello.

  “Tracy Adams!” the pastor decried as he beamed at her and shook her hands warmly. “How long has it been?”

  “Quite a few years, Pastor Butler. How have you been?”

  “Fine…fine…seems the same can be said for you. I heard you were back here helping out Rose with In Season, and I look up and there you are! Seems like only yesterday when you were a young child singing in the choir over at First Baptist!”

  “You should come around to the parish again, now that you are back in Fern Grove.” Butler said.

  Tracy forced a smile. Those days had been memorable for her when very young, but once she had hit her teenage years, she had let go of her church-going days, her faith not what it once had been. And she really did not want to get into a thing over her burgeoning skepticism—perhaps even agnosticism—with the cordial pastor.

  “Thanks for the invite, Pastor Butler. I will think about it.”

  He smiled back, but like many in the clergy, he had a good eye and ear for reading people. He could see that this was unlikely with her, but did not press her anymore. Tracy immediately handed over one of the flyers.

  “The big grand re-opening of In Season is Monday, Pastor. You should drop by. Flowers and the church go hand in hand…”

  “I may take you up on that, Tracy. I have this big memorial service to officiate at next month and In Season may be just the answer to a very particular parishioner…”

  As they stood and chatted, Tracy was suddenly aware of the presence of Emily Maher who was hanging off the pastor’s shoulder, obviously eavesdropping on their conversation. Tracy had gotten used to the “minding-your-own-business” climate of Portland—despite its media reputation of being weird or offbeat—and had forgotten how small towns like Fern Grove were still loaded with busy-bodies who seemed to feel the need to know everyone’s business.

  “Couldn’t help overhearing, Pastor…” Emily interjected as they both looked at her, “but doesn’t Blooming Bouquets, Becky White’s shop, always p
rovide floral arrangement for the church?”

  “Yes, she has been working with us from time to time, Emily,” Butler replied, looking just a notch less annoyed at the intrusion than Tracy was. “And thanks for your concern, but I do not recall us having an exclusive contract or even any type of regular agreement with her.”

  Maher froze in her steps, her mouth agape, the color draining from her face following the direct dressing down from Butler in front of Tracy. They watched in amusement as Emily stomped off in a huff as she muttered something under her breath Tracy was not sure she was supposed to overhear. Apparently, she mused, Emily must be one of the few people in Fern Grove who could actually stomach Becky White, as she giggled at Maher’s retort that “Tracy should watch her back”.