Chapter Two

“Can I get you some water? Or shall I call someone?” The delivery man fretted over me as I sat crumpled on the floor, my back to the wall. The name tag on his overalls read “Peter” and he had warm, brown eyes. “My sister has the worst flower allergy too,” he continued, “you should see her with roses. Eyes and nose streaming. Sore throat. Sneezing like you can’t believe. Do you have any allergy tablets? My sister swears by them.”

I nodded along as he knelt in front of me, the peonies outside in the doorway. “I’m so sorry,” I finally stammered as the panic attack eventually faded. “That was embarrassing.”

“Don't worry about it,” Peter said kindly. “I feel terrible for setting your allergies off. I always fancied myself as a joyful kinda guy. People are generally happy to get flowers. Well, obviously not everyone.”

“You're not the delivery man?” I asked, darting a glance at the poor flowers where they fell, somewhat forlornly, on the floor.

“Not unless they come in a box. No, I found these in the entryway, just propped against the door. Guess you've got a secret admirer, huh?”

“Oh,” I squeaked.

“They'll be horrified to learn how ill they made you,” he carried on. “I could toss them if you want? Although it's a shame since they're so pretty. Maybe you could put them in a vase outside the shop? That way, you can enjoy them without letting them bother you.”

“Yes,” I said, “yes, that's a good idea.” I took a deep breath. I had to pull myself together. They were only flowers! Flowers couldn't hurt me. It was a silly reaction to have, really. The peonies were just a surprise... and I started feeling embarrassed, sitting on the floor, heaving breaths while the poor deliveryman fussed over me.

“I'll do that,” he said, amiably. “There’s a touch of color back in your cheeks. Here, let me put these outside and I’ll help you to your feet. I'm sure you'll feel better once they're out of your breathing space.” He grabbed the flowers and stepped outside, leaning them against the doorframe where they wouldn't be in the way, and closed the door before helping me up. “Are you sure I can't get you a glass of water?” he asked.

“You've been so kind,” I said, dusting off my pants with my hands. Not that the floor was dusty but because I needed something to do that seemed normal. “I feel rather silly.”

“Don't. Allergies are horrible. If you're still a little wobbly, you can sit at the cash register and I can carry the parcels straight through to the back?”

“No, thank you, that's very nice of you to offer, but I'll take them. I don't want to keep you any longer especially after you've been so considerate and kind. I'm sure you have a busy day ahead.”

“Always,” he chuckled. “Then I'll leave you to it. If the boxes were heavy, I'd insist on carrying them.” He reached for the door handle and pulled it, then stopped and thrust a tiny envelope towards me. “This fell on the floor, probably dropped out of the flower wrapper is my guess. I expect it's a note to say who sent them. Have a good day!”

“You too,” I said, taking the card.

When he left, he pulled the door shut behind him and made the bell tinkle again. Only then could I take a deep breath. I was ridiculous to respond with such an awful reaction. The flowers were beautiful, of course, and the glossy petals were expensively wrapped, but I couldn't get my mind off all the other times I received red peonies. I suppose I liked them as much as any flower once, mainly enjoying the surprise of a gift, but now I failed to dissociate them from awful memories. Whoever sent them here couldn't possibly know that. They were probably awed by the sheer beauty of them, unless... No, there is no unless. He couldn't possibly know where I am. I was too careful to hide my tracks.

Even so, my hand trembled as I untucked the envelope flap and extracted the small rectangular card. I frowned when I saw it was blank. Not even the florist’s name was printed on it. I turned it over, waiting for my world to cave in over a few innocuous-sounding words, but just like the other side, this one was blank too.

Was someone deliberately playing a prank on me? I wasn’t laughing. Why such a weird prank? Maybe the flowers were never intended for me? Perhaps someone merely stooped to retie their shoelace and set the flowers down but forgot to scoop them up again? Or maybe they were intended for one of my neighboring shops? Yes, there must be a simple explanation like that. Except, one of the shops was vacant, a ‘to let’ sign in the window, but maybe it was for the new photography studio? Perhaps the flowers were to be a pretty prop? Well, they were still in the doorway now if someone returned to collect them. And I had better things to occupy my mind than worrying about a trivial bunch of flowers!

Didn't I?

Yes, of course, I did!

Shoving the unwelcome thoughts from my head, I picked up the first parcel Peter left inside the door. The box was large but light and it took me only a few minutes to carry all of them to the back. I barely sliced open the tape on the largest box when the doorbell tinkled and I knew my business day had begun. Putting it to one side, I plastered on a bright smile and headed into the boutique to greet my customers.

For the next couple of hours, I was fully occupied assisting shoppers. Most were locals but I noticed a couple of browsing tourists who bought scarves and one of the cute, fabric cross-body bags I recently began to stock. I wrapped their purchases up in tissue and pink ribbon. By the time I checked my watch again, it was noon and my stomach was emitting little rumbles. If I wanted to pick up lunch at the café, I would have to hurry since the lunch hour usually brought in a new surge of customers. I called the café and placed my order, watching the clock until it was time to turn the sign on my door to Back Soon. After adjusting the hands of the little clock under the sign, I locked the door and jogged over.

“Hi, Meredith!” called Candice, waving to me from behind the counter as I entered the bustling café. “I bagged your order already,” she added, waving to the white paper sack with the Coffee Corner Café logo printed on the front. “And that reminds me, I really need a new dress so I plan to come by soon.”

“Any particular occasion, honey?” I asked.

“I entered a TV baking competition and made it to the finals! They're filming the show here in town soon,” replied Candice, her unbridled excitement sparkling in her eyes. “I have to look good even if they make me wear an apron over the top. Those kinds of shows get repeatedly aired on the networks for years and I don’t think I looked my best in the episode we already filmed.”

“Sounds exciting! I want to hear all about it when you come over. Shall I put a few dresses aside? I know your size already.”

“Don't go to any trouble for me. I'll find something. Let me ring up your order...”

I gave Candice the cash and opened the bag to inhale the scent of the hot sandwich as I checked to make sure the little cupcake box was also inside. “Thank you!” I called as I rolled the bag closed. On the way out, I waved to a couple of customers I recognized and hastily jogged back to the shop. When I crossed the road, I stopped, paused, and looked behind me, with the horrible feeling I was being watched. Then I noticed a small group of women clustered outside, cooing over the red shoes in my window display, and it hit me once again just how desperately I needed an assistant. If I hadn't stepped out, perhaps these ladies would already be browsing inside. If I'd gotten delayed, they could have moved on and potentially taken with them any possibility of a sale. As I unlocked the door, I ignored the flowers that were still propped against the wall and the strange feeling I’d just had. I greeted the women and said they were welcome to browse. Sure, my sandwich would cool but I couldn't help that. The sales were required to sustain the shop and make it successful as I needed it to be. So I didn't have any choice. After a false start, I invested everything I owned in the shop and now, there was no turning back.

While the ladies examined all the merchandise on the floor, picking up bags and holding dresses in front of them in the mirror, I found a small card. I wrote “Assistant Wanted: Please Apply Inside” and placed it in the front window. Last week, after crunching the numbers, I was sure I could afford a full-time assistant. Truthfully, I could have hired someone a couple of months ago but I was so used to working alone that I put it off. Sometimes I wondered if my choice of isolation was actually a symptom of my lack of trust, in which case, I would have to change. I'd been in town long enough to make a few friends and put down some roots. I couldn't bury myself in my solitude forever. Well, not completely. I would have to be the new me: the me that called people “honey” as I ran around after them, selecting all the right garments to suit their frames and complexions.

I rang up three purchases and gift-wrapped one of the red bags in what I liked to call “Blake's signature pink wrapping,” before the boutique emptied again. Finally, after tidying the bag shelf, and alternating the colors, I took my lunch out from where I stashed it under the register. Keeping a careful eye on the door, in case I needed to conceal my lunch from another potential customer, I began to eat. The sandwich was lukewarm but still tasty, and the thick cheese was gooey beneath the fresh slice of tomato, but the cupcake was a chocolatey mouthful of perfection. I idly wondered about the TV show competition and whether I could watch it as part of a live audience. How terrific it would be to see Candice win! I had no doubt she could keep her cool under pressure. Plus, if she wore one of my dresses, the publicity would be unparalleled! I could print a small advertisement in The Calendar Times with an “as seen on TV” teaser. Then my shoulders dropped and I realized what a silly idea it was! The camera would pan across the audience and I couldn't dare risk someone from my old life seeing me. Or someone like Jerry; never certain about his guesswork but prepared to dig and delve until he was. Not that anyone from my old life even watched TV cooking shows but what if someone just flipped through the channels and happened to? And then they told him?

For a moment, my heart sank. Was this how it would always be? Every time I wanted to take a step forward as Meredith Blake, something reminded me why I couldn't? And shouldn't.

I couldn't live my life with a mindset like that. I had to move forwards and focus on what I could do. No matter what.

Of course, I was doing that already with the shop.

“Okay, Meredith,” I said aloud. “Scrap the newspaper ad for now. Don't worry about the things you can't control. Concentrate strictly on finding an assistant. You can do that.” And with that problem solved, I chomped a large bite of cupcake.

The afternoon passed in a haze of uncommitted browsers, but several items from the sale rack sold, which was a relief, if not much profit. Then a very chatty, young woman came in and I spent a happy half hour discussing her upcoming wedding. She ended up purchasing ten necklaces for all of her bridesmaids. Just as I was wrapping up the last one, my assistant walked in, her dark brown bob swaying around her eyes.

“Hi, Sacha!” I called as I handed the pink bag to the soon-to-be bride. “How was school today?”

“I’m ready for the real world,” Sacha announced. She politely held the door for the bride then pushed it closed behind her. “Do I really have to finish my senior year?”

“Yes, if you want to go to college,” I told her. “Tough day, honey?”

“I do nothing but study and my AP classes take up more of my fun time than I ever anticipated,” she complained, although she didn't look too upset about it.

“It's not forever. You just need something to look forward to. Isn’t there something exciting perched on the horizon?”

She pursed her lips, musing the question. “My friends and I are hosting a reading picnic in the park on Saturday. That'll be fun. And I'm excited about the town party next month. We should dress the window in red, white and blue at the end of this month.”

“Do you want to be in charge of the window dressing?”

Sacha brightened. “Oh, my gosh! Could I?”

“Of course. You did a great job at Easter. Everyone liked the fashionable Easter Bunny delivering his expensive treats; and opening the eggs to reveal the jewelry inside them was sheer genius,” I praised her. I received a lot of compliments about the display and was eager to pass them on, knowing how pleased Sacha would be. I knew she didn't seek a career in retail but she certainly had a knack for it.

“Thank you so much!” said Sacha, her face lighting up with a smile. “Where do you need me?”

“Can you work the floor for the next couple of hours while I open up some boxes? I only had time to put them in the back this morning and I'm dying to see what's inside.” Every time I tried to sneak a peek, the doorbell rang, but I didn’t add that little morsel.

“No problem. And I want to see everything too. Do you think it could be the knitwear you ordered?”

“I hope so. If it is, I want to display them this week before everyone stops wanting sweaters and cardigans for the summer. They're lightweight enough to be popular now, but knitwear isn't the first item on the summer shopper's mind.” I stopped at one of the racks and tidied it up as we spoke. I was always making sure the garments hung straight and all the buttons were fastened.

“Won't they buy ahead for fall?”

“Probably. I have to admit I ordered these items too late but I'll know better next year!”

Sacha took her place behind the cash register and I walked toward the back. The box was exactly where I left it, stacked on top of the others, but as I unfolded the card flaps and reached inside, I noticed the neat stack of plastic-wrapped sweaters on the counter. Did I unpack them already? How could I? I glanced at the box with confusion. I barely scored open the tape when my first customer arrived. I never found the time to unpack it so how could the sweaters get onto the counter? That was weird.

I ducked my head around the internal door. Sacha was busily organizing the tray of pink tissue paper into neat folds. “Sacha?” I called.

Sacha looked up. “Yes?”

“Did you come in through the back door?”

“No. Why?”

“Oh, nothing. I'm just forgetful.” I stepped back to look at the sweaters. I was sure now that I hadn't unpacked them. It didn't make sense that they were now on the counter. The packing slip was squarely on top of the sweater stack. I ran my finger down it, and counted the items. All were recorded. Glancing at the back door, it looked locked but just to be sure, I stepped over and rattled the handle. It was definitely locked. No one could have entered that way. I would have noticed if someone entered the rear room from the shop. I always kept the internal door closed since the back room wasn't as prettily decorated as the main boutique.

“This is weird,” I muttered to myself. I must have forgotten I lifted them out. Of course I did! I was in a hurry to open the boxes when the customer arrived, and I forgot. That was it. But I remained puzzled as I grabbed the scissors from the peg board on the wall and cut open the other boxes. Lifting out all the items, I spread them across the benchtop. Two dozen pairs of jeans were included after one of my customers remarked how hard it was to buy them nowadays. You either had to order online or drive to the nearest big mall, which was out of town. As much as I loved the elegant dresses, skirts, tops, and blouses my store was earning a reputation for, my customers wanted practical casual wear too. I removed the plastic wrappers and carried an armful into the shop.

“You're going to like what I have,” I told Sacha. “If you hand me the price tagger, I'll put these jeans out now and get started on the sweaters. I think I'll move some of the dresses to the rack by the door and subtly mix the knitwear in.”

“I was thinking today that your evening events are so popular, you could think about offering personal styling appointments,” said Sacha.

I stopped, totally surprised. “Do you think anyone would book an appointment like that?”

“Yes! Everyone says what a great eye for style you have! And you already spend so much time helping customers get the perfect outfit that you could easily make time for extra special appointments in the evenings. Offer them a glass of bubbly, some delicious treats, and show them everything in their size, along with the accessories to customize their style. It would save your clients so much time and be really fun too.”

“That's a brilliant idea!” I grinned, mentally shelving the concept to consider in more detail later.

Sacha beamed and passed me the price tagger.

“I could host small evenings for friends. Turn it into a party for them?”

“I know my mom would come,” said Sacha. “I'm sure lots of customers would, especially if they feel pampered with exclusive perks. There's enough wealthy ladies in this town who’d cherish a stylish new wardrobe, or knowing they're the only one wearing an amazing new design.”

“Let's toss around some ideas and see what we come up with,” I said as I began to mark the labels. “I'm so glad I hired you.”

“Maybe I could assist too?” she asked brightly.

“If it flies, absolutely. It sounds like a two-person job already.” I started tagging the jeans, handing them to Sacha to display with the other folded items. “I just put an ad in the window for a full-time assistant but I’ll give you right of first refusal on the appointments since it was your idea.”

“Thanks. I'm saving up for college so it would help me financially too.”

“Just make sure to treat yourself while you save. Small wins motivate you to keep going for the big wins.”

“I like that. I'm going to write that down in my notebook.”

“Now you're teasing me,” I said, and she laughed and shook her head.

We finished pricing and displaying the jeans so I hurried to tag and organize the knitwear in between customers. I only ordered two dozen sweaters and cardigans so it didn't take long to hang them all beside the dresses in complimenting colors. Then the customer traffic picked up again, keeping us both busy until six PM when I finally turned the sign to Closed.

“Can I help tidy anything?” asked Sacha.

“No, you did a good job keeping on top of everything while it was busy. Why don't you take off now and I'll see you tomorrow? Thanks again for agreeing to help me after school on such short notice.”

“You really do need an assistant,” she said as she retrieved her backpack from under the cash desk. “But I'm always happy to help. I'm just sorry I can't work a couple of the days.”

“Don't be. That's why I'm hiring someone. School and being with your friends are just as important as working. Go on, shoo! I'll lock up.”

Sacha secured the backpack on her shoulders and waved as she headed out the front door. “I meant to ask you why there are flowers out here,” she said, pausing with the door open.

I gulped. I forgot all about them. “I think someone left them by accident and I guess they aren't coming back. Why don't you take them home?” I said.

“Are you sure? They look pretty expensive.”

“You'd be doing me a favor,” I said. “They'll only end up in the trash otherwise. See you tomorrow!” As Sacha scooped the peony bouquet from its resting place, I locked and bolted the door behind her and spent a few minutes tidying up, pleased to see barely anything out of place. Finally, I took the day’s receipts and most of the cash from the register and switched off the music. I walked into the back room and locked the internal door behind me, just in case. Then I opened the safe, depositing everything inside.

I made one final check of the back room, ensuring all the packaging was put in the trash and the boxes in the recycling stack before heading outside. I planned to take a longer cycle ride home, make dinner, and relax with the thriller I was reading. I already had some ideas of who did it and I couldn't wait to find out if my hunch was right. I shrugged on my light summer jacket, slung my purse across my shoulders and unlocked my bike. As soon as I lifted it from the rack, I knew something was wrong. Both tires were as flat as pancakes.

“Great,” I muttered, lifting my gaze skyward, “Just great!”