firm to his son, Gifford, and his grandson, Drake. But her grandmother had stunned everyone by leaving her piece of the firm to Emily. No one had quite recovered from the shock.
When the family had gathered itself sufficiently to think logically once more, Emily had been told that it would be best if she surrendered her interest to her father and brother. The firm could not afford to buy her out.
Emily, remembering the deathbed promise she had made in private to her grandmother, had calmly refused. She had never explained what had been said between herself and her grandmother during that private interview, and no one had thought to ask. All the rest of the family cared about was the fact that for the first time in her life, Emily was defying them.
It had been her first major act of defiance, and no one had believed she would stand firm. It was assumed she would give in on this matter just as she had crumpled at the age of eighteen when she had been informed she would go to an exclusive private college, not join an artists' colony as she had planned.
Two years had passed since Emily had started Emily's Garden against her family's wishes, but the Ravenscrofts still had trouble believing Emily had truly changed.
"Practicing for the big flower show, Emily?" Diane asked casually as she came through the shop door after lunch. She peered at the delicate design taking shape under Emily's fingers. "I like that arrangement, but frankly I've got to tell you it might be a little too subtle for the judges. You know how they were last year."
"Just because I didn't win last year doesn't mean the judges don't respect subtlety," Emily said. "We have to take into account the possibility that the winning entry was actually a better design than the one I submitted."
"Hah. I refuse to admit that." Diane made a theatrical gesture with her right hand. "Yours was perfect. Magnificent. A tribute to the melding of two cultures. You combined the Japanese approach to celebrating the harmony and grandeur in nature with the Western love of opulence. It was a work of art and the judges were blind. This year, skip the simple celebration of harmony and grandeur and go for opulence."
Emily frowned consideringly down at her creation. "You think so?"
"Trust me. Give 'em glitz and dazzle this year. You've got to hit those turkey judges over the head with color and lushness. We're dealing with simple brains that need to be stimulated by glitter. They're incapable of appreciating the subtle approach."
"Speaking of simple brains," Emily interrupted, remembering a business matter. "The secretary from Baker, Schmidt and Baker called just after you went out to lunch."
"Just because Baker, Schmidt and Baker are a bunch of advertising executives doesn't mean they're all simple-minded, Emily."
"I suppose you're right. I shouldn't jump to conclusions. At any rate, the firm is giving a reception for its clients on the fifth next month, and they want us to do the flowers."
"Great. We'll have to notify the wholesalers by the end of this week if we want to be sure they'll have everything we need in stock."
"I know. We'd better put a list together today. By the way—"
Emily broke off as the phone rang. Automatically she reached out to pick up the receiver. Too late she realized she should have let Diane answer it. Damon Morrell's deep voice came on the line. Damon had a way of making the most mundane greeting sound surprisingly intimate.
"Hey, how's my favorite flower lady today? How was the trip to Portland?" Damon asked with characteristic easy confidence. "I missed you, Emily. Spent a very dull weekend. I hope yours was equally dull. I thought we might we able to squeeze in dinner tomorrow night. What do you say?"
Emily hesitated, wishing she'd had her excuses ready. "I'm afraid I'm going to be busy tomorrow night, Damon." Weak. Very weak.
"I'm adaptable. How about doing something this evening? I just got back from a racquetball game and I'm about to step