Page 30 of Save the Date
The previous day’s pickup from Breitmueller’s had been a failure.
She’d arrived at the wholesaler shortly before noon. But the buckets of flowers holding her order were nothing like what she’d been promised.
Gaudy hot pink dyed carnations, some sad-looking cream spray roses, a few Stargazer lilies, and loads of stiff yellowish baby’s breath.
She marched over to the office, where Wendy Breitmueller was typing away on her computer terminal.
“Oh, hi, Cara,” Wendy said, not looking up. “We pulled your order, it’s back out in the warehouse.”
“That’s not what I ordered, Wendy,” Cara said sharply. “Come on! Baby’s breath? And those yucky dyed carnations? Where are my tulips? My pink spray roses? My gerberas?”
Wendy sighed. “Look, it’s not my fault. Allen took a big phone order just before I talked to you, and he’d already promised all the stuff you wanted to another client. You know how it goes. This is our busy season, and unless you call up a week ahead of time and let us know what you need, you take what you get. First come, first served.”
“But you promisedme,” Cara reminded her. “Not less than an hour ago. I’ve got a baby shower tomorrow for one of my regular clients, and there is no way I can show up at the golf club with that mess out there.”
“You’re welcome to walk around in the warehouse and pick out whatever else looks good,” Wendy said with a shrug. Reluctantly, she got up from her computer and led Cara back into the chilled air of the warehouse.
Cara saw a huge cluster of buckets lined up near the loading-dock doors, holding what looked like a whole greenhouse full of blooms: peonies, tulips, hydrangeas, orchids, roses, ranunculus, lilies, and more.
“That!” Cara said, pointing. “That’s what you promised me.”
“Sorry, like I told you, it’s all spoken for. Allen’s new customer.”
“Wow. All that for one client?”
“He’s got two shops. Been open in Charleston for a while, and now he’s moved over to Savannah too. And he’s just as particular about his flowers as you.”
Cara felt a twinge of jealousy. “Are all these flowers for Cullen Kane?”
“Sure,” Wendy said. “You know him?”
“Just of him,” she said. “I guess he has some pretty fancy clients.”
“I’d say so,” Wendy said.
Cara was still looking at all those flowers by the loading dock. “Wait a minute, Wendy. He’s gottonsof pink tulips. But I didn’t get any. And I specifically ordered three dozen.”
Wendy shrugged. “Nothing I can do about it, Cara.”
“Since when?” Cara asked. “You’re the owner. Come on, Wendy. You know this isn’t right. I might not order as many flowers as this new guy, but I’ve been a good customer. You can’t just short me like this. At least split the order with me.”
“Oh, Cara,” Wendy sighed.
Cara could sense she was softening.
“Wendy? Don’t do me like this. Please? I need those tulips.”
She shook her head, then gestured toward the buckets of flowers, looking furtively around the warehouse. “I can spare a dozen of these pink tulips.”
“Two dozen,” Cara said, not too proud to beg. “I’ve got all these tabletops at the golf club.”
“Eighteen,” Wendy said. “Take ’em, but be quick about it. I don’t want Allen to catch me raiding his customer’s order. I’ll adjust your bill. Now shoo, before I change my mind.”
***
Cara spent all Tuesday morning scrounging up enough greenery to fill in for the missing flowers for her centerpieces—snipping asparagus ferns from one friend’s garden in Ardsley Park, Meyer lemon leaves from a client’s courtyard, and silvery-gray lamb’s ears from the hip-pocket-sized container garden she tended behind the shop. She made a trip over to Whole Foods and bought four fat pots of pink hydrangeas, wincing at the cash register while she paid retail prices for the flowers.
She’d even made a quick trip out to Wilmington Island, where she knew of a thick patch of blue plumbago growing in the Publix shopping center parking lot. She’d parked her car right by the patch, snipped a big batch, then fled like a thief in the night. It wasn’t really stealing, she’d told herself. The plumbago needed trimming.
