Page 19 of Save the Date
“I can’t afford to relax,” Cara said. “I owe the Colonel twenty thousand dollars. And on top of that, I checked my email back at the wedding, while you were out breaking it down on the dance floor. Bernice Bradley emailed me to let me know she wants to renew our lease. I’ve been going month to month for a while now—and when we renew, our rent is going up to nearly double what we pay now.”
“What? That’s crap! The Bradleys haven’t touched the place in years. Your ceiling leaks upstairs, and the plumbing keeps backing up.…”
“I know,” Cara said, shaking her head. “But they’ve got me by the short hairs. They know it’s a great location. Where else am I going to find that much square footage downtown—and with its own parking space? And with the apartment upstairs, it’s perfect for me.”
“I think you should call their bluff,” Bert said, steering the van down Skidaway Road. “Call your real-estate agent, ask her to put out some feelers for another location. Let the Bradleys get wind of that. Look at all the improvements you’ve made to their property. You’re probably the best tenant they’ve ever had. I bet they’d hate to lose you.”
“But I’d hate it even more—if I have to move. It’s perfect visibility—so close to the biggest downtown churches.”
“What about that storefront on Bull? Where the antique shop used to be? Now, that’s a great location. Tons of traffic.”
“And no parking. I looked at that space the last time it became vacant. There’s a reason why no business stays there longer than a year. If my brides can’t find a place to park, they’ll drive right on up the road to another florist shop.”
“Never,” Bert said. “These girls want a Bloom wedding. You’ve got the look they love, Cara.”
“Today,” she muttered. “But all that can change in the blink of an eye. These brides are all incredibly fickle. Everybody wants the next cool, hip look. And if I don’t stay right on top of my game, I’ll be yesterday’s news.”
***
She’d dozed off. It was nearly midnight. Bert parked the van in the space in back of the shop, then reached over and gently shook her shoulder.
“Cara? We’re home.”
She yawned and looked out the window at the poorly lit lane. “God. For a minute there, I almost forgot about Poppy. That horrible man still has her.”
Bert cocked one eyebrow. “You seemed to be having a nice time dancing with that horrible man, earlier this evening. You two were getting pretty close, it looked like to me.”
“He’s a lunatic,” Cara said. “Did you see what he did? Left me standing in the middle of the dance floor! One minute we were dancing—and the next, he just stopped cold. Walked off and left, after mumbling something about Jimmy fucking Buffet.”
“I did see him leave. I figured you’d picked a fight with him,” Bert said.
“I never said a word. I thought he might relent and hand Poppy over to me if I played nice. Dumb idea.”
“What can you do now? I mean, if he won’t give her back?”
“I’ll take her back,” Cara said, yawning. “He stole her from me, so I’ll steal her back from him.”
“How exactly do you steal your own dog?” Bert asked.
“Not sure,” she admitted. “But I’m going over there to case the joint. Just as soon as I chug a Red Bull.”
“Right now? It’s midnight, Cara. What if he calls the cops?”
“He won’t. And they won’t come anyway. Remember, I tried to get them involved earlier, and they flat refused.”
“I think you’d better wait till morning. I know that block. It’s kind of sketchy at night. And what if his neighbors see you and think you’re trying to break in? You’d be the one getting hauled off to the pokey.”
“You could go with me. Ride shotgun?”
“Sorry. No can do. I’ve got plans tonight.”
Cara gave him an appraising look. “What kind of plans?”
“I’m meeting somebody for a drink.”
“Somebody. As in a guy?”
“Maybe.”
