"Your shop door is propped open." I startled Lola out of her short cat nap.
She sat up and peered through the front windshield. It took her a second to shake off the grogginess. "What the heck?" She slumped back down. "Ugh, the black cloud has landed and cast its dreary shadow on Port Danby. Cynthia and John have arrived."
I swept into the only parking spot on the street, just a block from our shops. "Guess we took too long for lunch."
"I'm blaming it on the Cramptons. That's either the best or the worst surname in the world. At least now Mom will be too busy questioning me about closing the shop midday to comment on my attire."
I glanced over at her faded t-shirt. Lola had the finest collection of vintage rock t-shirts but the Stone Temple Pilots one was particularly shabby. If I didn't know any better, I'd guess that she chose that t-shirt just to annoy her mom.
"Well, good luck," I said as I turned off the engine.
She sat up straighter. "Wait, I've got a great idea. Come into the shop with me. Mom always puts on her best face for visitors. She might even tone down her first few gripes about my appearance if you're standing next to me." She peered quickly my direction. "Or maybe that's a mistake. You look far more fresh and pretty and girlie. The comparison is too drastic."
I turned in my seat. "Normally, I would thank someone for calling me fresh and pretty and girlie, only I sensed just the tiniest bit of derision as you said it so I won't be thanking you. It seems to me that if you knew your mom was going to complain about the way you're dressed, you could have at least pulled out one of your nicer t-shirts."
Lola stared down at the shirt. "Nothing wrong with my t-shirt." She looked up at me. "So are you going to be a good friend and escort me into my shop or not?"
I grabbed my purse from the backseat. "Fine. I'll walk you in—coward."
We walked across to Lola's Antiques. Her parents' voices floated out to us before we stepped inside. Lola stopped and took a deep breath. "Here we go." She strode in. "Hey, guys, you got in early," she said cheerily.
Lola's parents didn't look like your average, everyday mom and pop. They looked altogether more worldly than Stanley and Peggy Pinkerton. My parents looked as if they'd lived an easy, ordinary life in the suburbs, both a little paunchy with clothing that was neither contemporary nor outdated. Lola's dad, John Button, had graying temples. With his crisply tailored white shirt with rolled sleeves and khaki shorts, it looked as if he was about to go out on a safari. He was a thick haired ginger like his daughter, but his skin had a dark coppery tone as if he'd spent the last month on the French Riviera, which he quite possibly had. Cynthia Button, Lola's mom, had dyed her hair a deep henna color. This afternoon she was wearing an exotic dress made of gauzy batik fabric.
Both parents rushed right over for hugs and kisses hello. For a brief second, it seemed Lola was happy to see them. (Not that she would ever admit it.)
Cynthia pulled away first and flashed a gracious grin my direction. "Lacey, right?"
I walked forward. "Yes, we met briefly on your last visit." I put out my hand but she pulled me into a hug.
"I'm so glad Lola has you for a friend. She talks so much about you."
"We have become very close, and I'm glad to have her too."
Cynthia stepped back. She turned an admiring gaze toward Lola. "Your hair looks so pretty with all those curls, sweetie."
Lola's mouth dropped. It seemed she was unprepared for a compliment. "Thanks," she said hesitantly. Then she squinted suspiciously at her mom, waiting, apparently, for the other shoe to drop. Which it did.
"I suppose it just looks better because you don't have one of those silly old man hats pulled down over it."
"Ah, there it is." Lola looked at her dad. "Almost thought you grabbed the wrong woman at the airport."
"Oh, don't be silly, Lola," Cynthia piped up before John could respond. Not that he seemed to know how to respond.
"Your mom and I had a long trip." John finally spoke up. "We're going to head home to shower and take a nap. We just wanted to stop by the shop first and say hello." Late Bloomer sat at his feet and stared up at him. He patted the dog's head. "We can take Bloomer with us."
"Yes, sweetie, we were a little surprised to find the shop closed. You might have missed some customers." Cynthia stepped over to a walnut buffet and straightened a few of the china cups Lola had displayed on its shelves. "It's not good business."
Lola wasn't exaggerating. I was beginning to think even my mom couldn't go toe to toe with Cynthia.
"I have to eat lunch, don't I? I think it would be even worse business to leave the shop open with no one minding the store." Lola grinned at her.
"Oh, Lola, you are being extra silly this afternoon. Maybe you should be the one to go home and take a nap," Cynthia mused.
"Sounds good to me," she said. "Does that mean you two will be in charge? After all, I don't really get days off for things like naps." I was about to mention her nap on the way home from Chesterton but thought better of it.
"We told you to hire an assistant," John said.
"I tried a few but there aren't many good ones." Lola stepped over to the buffet and moved the china cups back to where she'd originally placed them. Cynthia decided to ignore it.
"Speaking of assistants—" Cynthia turned to me. Her skin was virtually flawless. I wondered how many European spas she frequented during their travels. "How is your floral assistant?" She said it with just enough distaste that I instantly felt sorry for Ryder. It seemed he wasn't going to have as easy a time of it as I'd predicted.
Fortunately, it took no effort to sing his praises. "Ryder is the best assistant anyone could ask for. He's talented and knowledgeable. Customers adore him. Everyone adores him, in fact. He's going to go far in life."
"Well, we can't wait to meet him," Cynthia said, but I questioned the sincerity in her tone.
"Yes, all in good time." Lola started walking them to the door. "Like you said, time for naps. I'm afraid the refrigerator is sort of empty. I haven't been to the store, but I'll pick up some pizza on the way home."
Cynthia stopped to admire a Victorian chair. "Sweetie, this chair needs dusting. I know we like to see patina on these old pieces but dust doesn't really say old. It says dirty."
That was my cue to leave. I swept past Lola, who seemed to be deciding whether this battle was worth fighting or whether she should save energy for future fights.
"It was nice seeing you both again," I said cheerily as I walked past.
"Yes, you too," Cynthia called as I reached the door. I walked outside and hurried across the street.
Ryder was finishing potting some marigolds when I walked inside.
"Run," I said, "Run and don't look back."
Ryder's face blanched, and I felt guilty for teasing him. "I'm kidding. The parents have arrived and let's just say, Lola wasn't exaggerating."
He dried off his hands. "Poor Lo-lo. Poor me," he said more emphatically. "I think I'll go grab some lunch. I can't meet them on an empty stomach."
"Good point. You'll need all your strength. Hurry though. Lola was trying to get them out the door, only Cynthia seemed intent on inspecting for dust."
"Oh man, that's going to leave Lola in knot. I'm heading out now, and I think I'll follow your earlier warning. I'm going to run down to the diner and not look back."
Ryder dashed out the door and headed toward the diner. I was feeling oddly homesick for my own mom. The shop was empty so I pulled out my phone.
"Lacey?" she always answered with a questioning tone as if she thought possibly someone else had decided to use my phone to call her.
"Who else?" I said back. "What's up, Mom? How are you guys doing?"
"Why do you sound so nasal? Do you have a cold?"
"I sound nasal? Well, that's a pretty way to sound. I don't have a cold," I said.
"What's new?" she asked, without answering my questions. "Is there anything wrong? Are you still dating James? Is the flower shop doing all right? You could always go back into the perfume industry if the flower thing didn't work out."
I smiled into the phone and briefly wondered if Cynthia Button and Peggy Pinkerton would get along. "Let's see. Nothing is new, except I did buy a new pair of sandals. Nothing is wrong. Yes, I'm dating James. Yes, the flower shop is fine. And I don't want to go back to the perfume industry, so hopefully, the flower thing will keep working."
"Well, that's nice, dear. I didn't expect to hear from you today."
"I know, Mom. I just missed you and thought I'd ring you up."