Page 13 of Back On Ice

After tucking my purse under the counter, I move to the tablet we use as a POS system, clocking in for the day.

My stomach rumbles, and I realize that I didn’t have any time for breakfast.

“I come bearing gifts.” Kerry’s voice is chipper, and she’s holding a cup of iced coffee and a pastry bag out towards me. Her bright green eyes sparkle, and I know she just heard my stomach as loudly as I did. She’s wearing the lavender version of our Hart’s Flower Shop staff shirts, making her eyes pop and her bronze skin glow. Her long, black hair is in a braid that drapes over her shoulder while curled tendrils frame her face, only adding to her angelic appearance.

“Oh, sweet Kerry, you’re a lifesaver.” I gratefully take the treats from her and immediately chug a third of the coffee. A moan escapes me at the taste of the salted caramel goodness. She always knows just what to get me.

Kerry laughs at my theatrics. “There’s a chocolate croissant in there too.”

“I knew I liked you.” I wink at her, and she chuckles.

“How much do I owe you?” She waves me off.

“You bought lunch last week, remember?” She’s right. I sigh, knowing that arguing that Ishouldbe buying her lunch for all of her hard work and she doesn’t owe me anything is an argument neither of us will win.

The bell over the front door chimes, indicating we have our first customer. “Greg!” Kerry exclaims, a smile lighting up her face. “How are you? What can I help you with?”

“Hey, Kerry.” The customer, a young man who looks to be about Kerry’s age, smiles nervously. “I need some help. I’m meeting my girlfriend's parents for the first time at dinner tonight, and I want to make a good impression. Do you have any ideas?”

“You bet I do,” she winks, and leads him to the display coolers, showing him the different flower combinations they could go with. Once he makes his choices, they come back to the front register and Kerry tells me to ring him up for a custom bouquet of white and pink lilies, dark pink carnations, and some babies' breath. He pays, and can’t seem to stop staring at me. Before I can ask if I have something on my face, Greg speaks up.

“You’re… you’re the Sophie from the Town Council meeting last night, right?” he asks, somewhat cautiously, no doubt remembering how worked up I got.

“Yep, that’s me,” I say with a tight smile just as Kerry comes out with the full arrangement.

“I bet you’re excited Carter Williams showed up and saved the day.” He nods, like he’s agreeing with himself. “He’s gonna do great things for this town, I can tell.”

Forcing myself to smile politely and ignore the anger at Greg’s words, I watch as Kerry hands the arrangement over, wishing him luck at dinner tonight.

It’s not Greg’s fault. If I hadn’t been trying to save the damn place myself for two months, and didn’t personally know Carter, I’d probably think the same thing.

But Idoknow better.

Shit, I had been so determined to not think of Carter, but of course, he’s going to be talked about. Having an NHL star come to Ivy Glen is the most exciting thing to happen in this town since… well, since he was drafted.

Kerry, sensing my shift in mood, wisely doesn’t comment on what Greg said. Instead, she turns to me after the bell rings at his exit. “I’ll send you the picture I took so we can add that to our menu. We can call it, ‘Meet the Parents.’”

The look-book is a menu of sorts, displaying all the arrangements we have and what occasions they might suit.

“Let’s wait until the end of the day, and I’ll add all the new ones at the same time,” I tell her, writing myself a sticky note so I don’t forget.

She nods, biting her lip. “I’ve been thinking, Sophie, what if we start marketing outside Ivy Glen? Like Oakdale, Willow Creek, or one of the other bigger cities nearby? I have some ideas.”

It’s not something I haven’t thought of before, and it would be a great opportunity for the shop. But heading up a marketing campaign to an entirely new demographic of people does not feel like something I can manage on top of the rec center, helping with Jordan, and not only handling the finances for the shop, but also manning the storefront.

If Kerry felt like she could be the driving force behind the marketing, it would be a fantastic business opportunity.

“That’s a great idea, Kerry,” I admit, turning to face her, “but it’s not something that I can head up right now. If you want to take it on though, I’ll fully support you.”

Her face lights up and she nods again, heading to the back to ready arrangements for some of our weekly orders while I man the register. Saturday is our busy day, and we hardly have a moment to breathe between consultations on baby showers, anniversaries, weddings, and checking out customers. Gladys Mitchell comes in around noon, her equally elderly Yorkie in her arms.

“Hi there, Monty!” I coo, giving the canine a small treat from the bowl on the counter, “how’s my favorite puppy?”

“Calling him a puppy is like calling me a teenager,” Gladys chuckles, then shakes her head, sighing. “I had to take him to the vet this week, it looks like he’s going deaf now.”

“Poor guy.” I frown, scratching him under the chin as his little tail wags.

Gladys places an order for some flowers to send to her friend whose husband passed away, and as I print her receipt, reminding her, “Don’t forget to send me over those financial statements for your taxes so I can get started.”

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