Page 33 of Between Love and Honor

“Do you think it’s wise to allow her free range of the House?” Griffin asked, not bothering to hide his disdain.

Agent Groesch scoffed. “I haven’t left her alone for a single minute since Ben left. I don’t need you to tell me how to do my job, Griffin. Which, I’d like to point out for the record, is not technically my job because she’s not even supposed to be in the residence.”

Quinn bristled. “I’m happy to leave at any time.”

“Stop it. All of you,” Josslyn demanded before linking an arm through Quinn’s. “Quinn is my guest. We promised Ben we’d keep her company. And that’s what we are going to do. First the centerpieces. Then the cake.”

Quinn allowed Josslyn to propel her down the hall and around the corner to the flower shop. The earthy aroma of plants had Quinn’s nose twitching while the airiness of the workshop helped to calm her nerves a bit. Sunlight beamed through several windows opening into a courtyard. The rooms were separated by walls of glass blocks helping to keep the shop bright and cheery.

An older woman who looked as though she should have retired long ago greeted them with a wide smile and twinkle in her eye. She hung a set of keys on a hook beside her desk.

“I must thank you, Miss Josslyn, for arranging for me to park in the courtyard. I stand most of the day and not having to make that long walk to the parking lot at the end of the day helps.” She winked at them. “I might have outdone myself with these arrangements, Miss Josslyn, if I do say so myself.”

“I have no doubt.” Josslyn smiled fondly at the woman.

“Quinn, this wonderful lady is Marilyn Johnson, the fairy godmother of the White House floral shop. She spent years as the mastermind of all the floral arrangements within the mansion. It took a little coaxing, but I convinced her to come out of retirement for a few weeks to plan the arrangements for our wedding. If I couldn’t go to the Serengeti, then I wanted Marilyn to bring it to Washington.”

The florist beamed as she stepped away from her work-table to reveal a breathtaking centerpiece comprised of beige and gold colored flowers, tall shocks of river grass and roses seemingly dipped in bronze. A chorus of oohs and ahhs echoed throughout the workshop.

“Those roses are amazing,” Quinn couldn’t help but say. “I’ve never seen them before. What kind are they?”

“They’re Kahala roses,” the florist replied. “I thought the beige color with the bronze elements perfectly captured the feel of the desert’s colors. Especially when using the Vermeil candelabras to showcase them.”

“They’re perfect,” Quinn and Josslyn responded at the same time.

When Josslyn grinned at her, Quinn relaxed, and got into the spirit of things.

“What color are your bridesmaids wearing?” Quinn asked, her mind whirring at the potential of complementary colors. How much fun would it be to actually photograph this wedding? The thought stunned her in its randomness. She pushed it aside, reminding herself she was playing a role. She was always playing a role.

“No bridesmaids. We’re trying to keep it as intimate as possible. My sister, the First Lady, is my maid of honor and my niece is the flower girl,” Josslyn explained. “Harriett and I haven’t picked out a color for her dress yet. She has designers pretty much at her disposal, but we’ll need to make a decision this week.”

“Peach. The color of sunset on the Serengeti.” Quinn glanced over at the florist. “Maybe with bouquets of Oceana roses mixed with some off-white lilies and one or two of these Kahala roses?”

The older woman nodded. “With the cream and moss green accents of the Truman china on the table, that would be perfect. You have a very good eye for color.”

“Quinn is a photographer. She’s shot quite a few celebrity weddings.” Josslyn grinned at Marin. “Thank goodness I know two people with impeccable eyes for art or this wedding would be a simple safari theme.”

The First Lady’s secretary coughed discreetly into her hand. The florist shook her head. For her part, Marin seemed to grimace as if she didn’t like being placed in the same friend category as Quinn.

“I once photographed a wedding with a cake that had strings of topaz beads wrapped around the layers,” Quinn said, trying anything to win the other woman over. “With low lighting it allowed for some pretty shots. Topaz would fit into the color scheme perfectly. And with the candelabras as the light source—”

“Don’t tell me how to decorate a wedding cake,” Marin interrupted her. “I’m not sure why you’re interjecting yourself into this wedding, anyway. Not with your track record of disappearing without a trace. I’d stick with the White House photographer, Josslyn. At least that way you’ll know they’ll show up when they say they will.”

With that, Marin turned on her heel and left the floral shop. Quinn’s stomach rolled. She’d brought that on herself. And she was angry that the approval of Ben’s friends meant so much to her. Marin was right, however.

Quinn would be disappearing. And the sooner the better.

She had no business trying to forge relationships with these people.

But what if?

There was that thought again. Just for a moment, Quinn let it take hold. What if she was no longer in the game and these could be her friends? What if she could help Josslyn with her wedding? How much fun would it be to dance with Ben at the reception. Or to create the artistic photos the bride desired. She was suddenly overcome with a longing more painful than the sting of Marin’s words. A yearning for a life different from the only one she’d ever known. A life that up until yesterday, had fulfilled her, challenged her. Only now, she knew what she was missing.

And the realization hurt.

The room was suddenly quiet as everyone looked everywhere else but at Quinn.

“She’s very protective of Ben,” Agent Groesch said quietly. “We all are.”

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