Page 5 of Save the Date
“Ask me later.” She picked up the telephone and made the call she’d been about to make—right before the Colonel decided to ruin her week.
***
Lamar Boudreau was Cara’s secret weapon. She’d met him at an industry trade show in Atlanta, not long after she’d transformed Norma’s into Bloom. Every week Lamar drove his refrigerated van to a wholesale warehouse adjacent to the Atlanta airport, and filled his “bucket truck” with choice imported flowers in unusual colors and varieties not stocked by her Savannah wholesaler—tulips, lilies, gerbera daisies, freesias, and snapdragons from Holland; roses, delphiniums, and asters from Ecuador; and spray chrysanthemums and alstroemeria from Colombia. From there, he made deliveries to fewer than a dozen florists around the state.
Under normal circumstances, Lamar and his bucket truck arrived in Savannah on Wednesdays. As far as Cara knew, she was his only local customer, and she intended to keep it that way. These days most of her brides didn’t want to settle for their mother’s same-old carnations and sweetheart roses. They wanted the trendy flowers spotted in their favorite high-end glossy wedding magazines and, increasingly, on Pinterest. And that’s where Lamar Boudreau came in.
“Lamar? It’s Cara, in Savannah.”
“How you doin’, girl?”
“Not too good,” she admitted. “My cooler conked out on me overnight, and most of those flowers you delivered Wednesday are DOA. I’ve got a huge wedding tomorrow. Can you help me out?”
“Aww, Cara,” he moaned. “I can’t be coming all the way back down there today. I got other customers besides you, ya know.”
“I know, Lamar, but none you love as much as me.”
From across the room Bert rolled his eyes.
“That’s true,” Lamar said, with a chuckle. “But don’t you be telling my wife ’bout us.”
“What about it? Pretty please? This is a big order, so I’ll make it worth your while.”
“You know how much gas my van burns up when I make a trip clear down there to the coast? Anyway, much as I wish I could help, I can’t do it today.”
“How far south are you coming?” Cara persisted.
“On my way to Macon next,” Lamar said. “Last call of the day.”
“Perfect! I’ll meet you anyplace you say. I’m working with the pickiest bride on the planet, and her mother’s even worse, so make sure you save the good stuff for me, okay?”
“Don’t I always?” Lamar said. “I’ll see you at the Cracker Barrel on Riverside Drive at two.”
***
After tracking down the repairman and issuing dire threats about what would happen if he didn’t return to the shop to get her cooler up and running again, Cara sent Bert to the wholesale house to try to buy more stock, and spent the rest of the morning fielding phone calls and dealing with appointments and brides.
When Bert returned to Bloom at noon, Cara was waiting by the door. “I’m headed to Macon to meet Lamar,” she informed him. She glanced over at Poppy, who was lounging nearby, watching her every move. “Can you do me a favor and watch you-know-who? I’d take her with me, but you know she gets carsick after more than fifteen or twenty minutes, and I haven’t had enough advance time to give her the meds.”
“That’s cool,” Bert said easily.
“And if Lillian Fanning calls again, and she will call, lie through your teeth and tell her we’ve got her friggin’ ecru candles.”
“Got it,” he said.
3
After working all night on Torie Fanning’ssecondset of wedding arrangements, by Saturday morning Cara was operating on Red Bull and desperation. She would have given anything for an hour of sleep. But this was May, and she’d sleep, she promised herself, when wedding season was over.
Right now, she had a ten-o’clock appointment. She took another covert sip of Red Bull and poured two flutes of orange juice, topping it off with Sam’s Club champagne.
She set the silver tray down carefully on the big worktable in the shop and beamed at today’s couple, Michelle and Hank.
“All right then, you two,” she said, hoping she sounded cheerful. “Let’s talk about your big day!”
***
Michelle pushed her iPad across the zinc top of the worktable. She poised one pink polished fingertip on the screen. “This is my board for the altar centerpieces. As you can see, I’m looking for something loose and relaxed, in the blue and purple range, with greenery that’s a softer silver, gray. For the containers, I’d like big ironstone pitchers like these.” She tapped one picture on the screen, then slid her fingertip across the screen.
