Page 65 of Tangled Up

“Glad to help.” She slides the bouquet across the counter and taps on the screen.

I look at the deep purple and pink bouquet, and I get an idea. “Hey, any chance you’re planning to stop by the festival on the boardwalk tonight?”

“What?” She shakes her head, motioning for me to swipe my card. “Oh, no. That’s not my scene.”

“It’s a good way to meet people. You should walk over.”

Her eyebrows furrow, and she studies me. “What’s up, Doc?”

“Good one.” I point at her, taking the card back. “Just thinking you’re new in town. I’ll be there. Maybe I can introduce you to some people.”

One person in particular who thinks he doesn’t have time to date.

“I don’t know. I’m not really into the whole… townie thing.”

“Here.” I hand her my card. “Just think about it and shoot me a text if you decide to go.”

“Don’t hold your breath.” She nods towards my bouquet. “And good luck with the Louis Vuitton.”

“Thanks.”

* * *

“The church supports the functions of a healthy community.” Henry pulls a navy polo over his head, and I nod as I check my phone.

Libby had a change of heart, and I send her a quick text, telling her where to meet us. I have a good feeling about that little firecracker and my best friend. If he’ll hurry up so we can get there.

“I’ve heard it described as the opiate of the people.” I’m just messing with him.

“That’s cynicism talking. Churches provide resources for the poor, support for families, comfort in times of grief. We need healthy churches.”

Furrowing my brow, I look over at him. “What’s got this bug up your ass?”

He shakes his head, grumbling. “I got into a discussion with one of the old-timers this afternoon at the clinic. He had a bad experience, and I get it. He thinks it’s a tool for social control, a front for making money where people are abused. I think the church should focus solely on serving the community where its located. It should be completely a-political.”

“Isn’t it against the law for churches to be political? I mean for tax purposes.”

“Yes. We endanger our tax-exempt status if we start endorsing political candidates.”

“We?” I squint an eye at him, and he exhales a laugh.

“They.”

Reaching out, I grasp his shoulder. “I bet there are pastors who were also veterinarians.”

He shakes his head, huffing a laugh. “I’m not cut out to be a minister, Beck. Trust me.”

“Because you like to have sex? I bet there are also pastors who bone their wives on the regular—if that’s not sacrilegious for me to say.”

He pauses, thinking. “But when push comes to shove, I think pastors have to be devoted to God and the flock above all else. That’s not me.”

“I’m not so sure I agree, but I’m willing to put a pin in it for now. Let’s go.”

I don’t want to debate it with him tonight. I’m too focused on seeing Carly, and I want to be in the right frame of mind.

This morning, I went from the Flower Booth to Aunt Viv’s with Carly’s bouquet. My plan was to leave it at the back door and ring the bell, but they were both in the kitchen, chatting and drinking coffee. So instead, I owned it.

I tapped on the screen door that separated us last night. Aunt Viv exclaimed and wanted me to come inside, drink coffee, have scones, but Carly held back, watching me with curious eyes. The round vase was in my hand, and I put it on the counter, saying I was just stopping by on my way to run some errands.

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