His and Hers by Ashley Ludwig Read Free Book Online Page B

Field—noonish?”
    Looking back and forth between Grandma and Diane, her blood quickened. With the event coming quickly, there would be a great deal to do. Besides, what girl didn’t love being around lots of lovely flowers?

 
     
     
     
    Chapter Eight
     
    One week later, Misty stood in front of The Flower Field. A warm, California breeze set the hinged, hand painted sign to squeak and wave overhead, seeming to beckon that she go inside and inhale the aroma of blooms.
    She peered through the beveled glass display window. Tiered arrangements in metal flower buckets spilled over with sunflowers, freesia, roses, and baby’s breath. Carnations blazed in a rainbow of color. Beyond, the rustic but comfortable interior of The Flower Field beckoned.
    She hesitated. Misty hadn’t been good with people for an age—six months of self-imposed exile only made her second guess every decision. Still, Diane saw something in her that she could believe in. Besides, Grandma insisted.
    With that in mind, she pushed open the door to the tinkling of a bell and a trio greeting her, “Welcome to The Flower Field!”
    Jarred by the sudden cheer, Misty held on to her smile. “Good morning.”
    “Sofie! Grace! This is Misty Darling.” Diane made introductions.
    Each looked up in turn and said their hellos before diving back to the issue at hand.
    Along the back wall, the flower cooler doors stood open, the black tiered shelves displayed only splashes of water and scattered, curling greens. Tubs of sad looking blooms in an array of shapes and sizes hung on for dear life.
    A burly repairman dug through and removed strange looking wrenches from his toolbox.
    “Your diagnosis sounds expensive, Fred.” Gia folded her arms in front of her chest. “If you just recharge the thing with coolant again—”
    “Again being the keyword here.” Sofie flipped back her dark curls, and blew at her bangs, attention focused on Grace. “That, and the fact that we know our refrigeration repair guy by name. No offense, Fred.”
    “None taken.” The repairman straightened his shoulders, revealing his name embroidered in red on the white oval. He wore a dour expression along with his blue jumpsuit, and turned back to Grace, ready to do battle. “Freon isn’t that expensive, but if you girls don’t change the compressor soon, you’ll be seeing me on a regular basis. Not that I have a problem with that, but I’d rather be in here as a customer. The Mrs. likes tulips…” His glance slid to the bucket of brown looking, petal-less stems of the former tulip display, then back to the others with a shoulder shrug. “Usually.”
    “He’s right, Grace.” Diane swept in. “We should just get the compressor now and be done with it. With the wedding and the award show next month, we can’t afford to lose all our flowers in one swoop.”
    “And then, there’s our Mathew dilemma,” Sofie pointed out. Silence wrapped the three in a disjointed bouquet.
    Misty’s ears perked as the young women hunkered down like football players at fourth and goal, no time on the clock. She wondered what they were saying, and strained to hear, more interested than she should be.
    The three women huddled up with less-than-subtle glances in her direction.
    Misty busied herself, studying the greeting card display. Birthday. Anniversary. Sympathy. But not one of the hand-painted cards offered any advice how to handle the sorry your a/c is out and you’ve lost most of your inventory scenario.
    The white, wire card tower gave a powerful squeak as it turned. All attention instantly focused on her. Misty gulped. “I can come back another time.” She took a backward step toward the door.
    “Wait!” Diane snapped her fingertips and pointed.
    “Yes?” Misty went stock-still, knowing she looked like a deer in the headlights.
    “You’re a producer, right?”
    “Well, I…I’m a production manager.” Misty stumbled over her words, quick-cleared her throat and straightened