Page 5 of Spring Fling

When I finally located my booth, I paused, letting out an appreciative breath. It had decent foot traffic potential—a wide aisle in front, a pretty vantage of the distant orchard behind me. Just as I set down my load, my gaze snagged on the sign next to my space:Ariana St. James: “America’s Floral Sweetheart.”The text was done in glitzy gold letters. Beside it hung a glossy banner depicting a breathtaking arrangement of roses and orchids, the tagline boasting “As featured on HGTV’s ‘Floral Dreams & Designs.’” I recognized her name immediately. Ariana had quite the following—ex-pageant queen turned celebrity florist.Great,I thought,so I’m next to the big star.Anxiety fluttered in my chest, though I tried to see it as motivation.

I turned around to begin organizing my crates when a sleek black SUV rumbled up. Out stepped a tall woman with hair the color of spun gold, pinned back off her flawless face. She wore a fitted designer jacket in bright poppy red and carried a tube of poster prints under one arm, exuding a confidence that made me feel half-invisible. Ariana St. James, in the flesh.

Our eyes met, and for a split second, her expression registered a polite if dismissive curiosity. Then her lips curved in a practiced smile. “Morning,” she said, her tone carrying that ex-pageant lilt—smiling even when the words might be cutting. “I gather you’re my neighbor for this event?”

“That’s right,” I replied, mustering a friendly nod. “I’m Daisy Parker.” For a second, I considered offering a handshake, but she kept her hands full with her tube and a glossy tote. Instead, I just added, “I’m with Bloom & Grow.”

“Lovely,” Ariana said, surveying my half-unpacked bundles. Something about her direct gaze made me feel appraised, as though she were deciding if I posed a threat. “I’m always happy to see newbies at these shows. Keeps things interesting.”

I forced a bright smile. “Likewise. It’s an honor to share a row with someone so accomplished. I’ve seen clips of your HGTV run.”

Her grin widened revealing the whitest, most dazzlingly perfect set of teeth I’d ever seen. I was tempted to reach for my sunglasses but figured it might come across as rude so instead I just stared.

“Oh, yes, that show was a whirlwind,” Ariana continued with a wave of her manicured hand. “I only placed runner-up. Still, people called me ‘America’s Floral Sweetheart,’ and it stuck.” She shrugged, tapping her acrylic nails on the tube of poster prints. “I notice your booth name,Bloom & Grow. Very quaint.” She said the final word with a sweet veneer that didn’t hide the underlying barb.

A flicker of annoyance tugged at me, but I kept my tone even. “I’ve actually been building my business for a few years now. This festival is my chance to, hopefully, expand my reach further.”

She offered a mild, “Of course,” before turning her attention back to her phone, like I was a lesser footnote in her day.I can’t let her rattle me,I reminded myself.Focus on your own booth. Let her do her glamorous routine.

Squatting down, I rummaged through one of my crates, pulling out the base of my primary centerpiece for the day—a swirl of pastel tulips, pink ranunculus, and delicate vines. I planned to set it on a tall pedestal draped with chiffon, hoping to catch the eye of festival attendees from across the aisle. My mind buzzed with potential finishing touches.I’ve got to stand out if I hope to be noticed here.A wave of tension settled in my shoulders.I can do this,I told myself.Just concentrate.

While I set up my stand, an upbeat woman with a festival badge approached, her silver hair bobbing around her chin. She introduced herself as Lucille, one of the event’s promoters. She paused to admire my half-assembled display. “This is lovely,” she murmured, stepping closer to run an appreciative finger along the trailing greenery. “You’ve got a sharp eye for color harmony.”

My cheeks warmed at the compliment. “Thank you. I’m excited to debut some of my best designs this week. Hoping to draw a lot of foot traffic.”

Lucille flashed me a welcoming grin. “That’s what this market is about—fresh faces alongside our big names. We’re thrilled folks like Ariana can attend, but we also love discovering new talents. Shows like this create real opportunities. And… if the rest of your displays match this level, I’d say you’re a real contender for the grand prize.”

A thrill ignited in my chest. “Really? That means a lot,” I managed, trying not to sound too breathless. “I’ve poured my heart into these designs.”

She nodded, stepping back to scan the area. “Keep it up. Final judging is in a few days. Good luck, Daisy.” Then, with a brisk wave, Lucille strode off, presumably to check on other booths. Excitement buzzed through me.I could be a contender. Ariana might not automatically win.

My gaze drifted back to the beauty queen’s area. She was setting up a flamboyant arch of richly hued roses and peonies, a look reminiscent of a high-end wedding editorial. As if she felt my stare, she glanced over, gave me a distant half-smile, and refocused on her arch.She’s definitely done this a hundred times.The pressure in my stomach tightened.Stand out, Daisy.I reached for a spool of ribbons and started weaving them around the base, conjuring an image of a showstopper arrangement that I was determined to make come to life.

I lost track of time adjusting heights, swapping out blossoms, ensuring my color palette sang. At some point, the sun climbed higher, turning the field vibrant with morning light. More vendors trickled in, some greeting Ariana with squeals of recognition and breathless requests for photos, others—like me—quietly perfecting their displays. I took a moment to step back and assess my booth from a customer’s viewpoint.Yes,I thought, proud of the cohesive flow.

My contentment shattered when Ariana strolled by, giving my display a once-over. She paused, arching a brow. “You’ve chosen sweet pastels, hmm? That’s an interesting route.” She let out a polite hum. “It’s charming—like baby shower vibes. I suppose some people adore that softer style.” Her eyes shifted to the bold swirl of color in her own arch, and she lifted her chin proudly.

I forced an even tone. “Thank you.”Surely that was meant as a sly put-down.She offered no further comment, returning to her booth. Part of me bristled with resentment, but I forced my energy back into double-checking my arrangement’s water supply.Let her talk. I’ll prove I can hold my own.

Suddenly, I realized I needed more floral foam for my second arrangement. The supply vendor’s tent was at the far edge of the grounds. I grabbed my tote and hustled off, weaving through a throng of staff setting up additional pavilions. The temperature had climbed pleasantly by now, and I found the bustle strangely reassuring—everyone was immersed in creation.

Reaching the supply tent took longer than expected because of the crowd. When I arrived, a few folks were already in line to buy last-minute items. I stepped into queue, scanning the rows of foam blocks, floral wire, and decorative stands.This festival is better stocked than I expected.Good news, indeed.

I’d just grabbed two blocks of floral foam when I spotted movement behind me that made my pulse jolt:Hayden. He was browsing a set of biodegradable pots, looking oddly focused yet approachable in a casual button-down and sturdy boots. For a second, I debated whether to say hello or slip away. But he turned, meeting my gaze dead-on, and I had no choice but to smile.

“Hey,” I greeted, trying for breezy. “Fancy seeing you here.”

He replied with a gentle quirk of his lips, stepping closer. “Yeah, the supply tent is a magnet for last-minute must-haves. I’m on the hunt for some specialized potting mix for a demonstration. You… need foam?”

I shrugged, brandishing the green blocks. “Yep, got to keep everything fresh in the heat. My arrangement is big, so I need sturdy support.” I paused, trying not to let my eyes linger onhim too long, though my heart thrummed. “So, how’s the book promotion stuff going?”

Hayden exhaled, rolling his shoulders in a half-shrug. “They want me at two meet-and-greets today before my first lecture. Not my favorite thing.”

I felt a pang of sympathy. “But also you’re giving a horticulture lecture, right? That’s more your speed.”

His features softened. “Exactly. I’d rather talk about sustainable gardening techniques than pose for pictures. But I’ll manage.” He shot me a rueful grin. “What about you? You got your booth all set?”

“More or less,” I said, shifting the blocks in my arms. “I’m next to Ariana St. James—maybe you’ve heard of her? She’s very… interesting.” The memory of Ariana calling my work “quaint” flickered in my mind. “I just hope people notice me next to someone already famous.”

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