The Perfect Arrangement by Katie Ganshert Read Free Book Online Page A

corsages and boutonnieres, and I just finished doing flowers for what was quite possibly the biggest, most stressful wedding of my life on the same weekend as our town’s Fall Harvest Festival, which is great fun, but I help out with the decorations. Then there was a funeral yesterday, which is always a last-minute thing. We’ve had all hands on deck here at the Forget-Me-Not Flower Shop, and that’s only two sets, unless you count our delivery guy, who is no good at making arrangements. I’ve pretty much been living at my store, and if I’m being 100% honest, I didn’t really know how to process how I’m feeling about everything. And since I wasn’t sure how to process my feelings, I decided to do the mature thing and repress them altogether by diving into my work. If we’re going to admit to our faults, I guess that’s one of mine.
    Here are your loose ends. Whether they’ve been nicely tied up is still up for debate.
    I followed your advice and confronted Bridget. She denied the entire thing. She looked me straight in the eye and said it wasn’t her. I had the wrong person. Which wouldn’t be the worst thing, except William (that’s my brother’s name) showed up at my flower shop that same day, accusing me of accusing his fiancée of cheating. Turns out, she called William in tears and said that it was her, but she panicked. Apparently I saw her with a family friend who is simply an affectionate guy.
    I could maybe believe that had she told me the truth herself. What I don’t understand is why she would lie to me about it and then change her story to William. It’s fishy, isn’t it? William asked me to stay out of it. He trusts Bridget and he wants me to trust him. Oh, but it’s hard. I admit, I am rather protective of him. He’s six years younger than me, you see, and we’re sort of orphans.
    Our mother died in childbirth. I was a six-year-old little girl with a grieving father and this little baby for a brother. Being a mother to him made me forget how terribly I missed my own. Our dad remarried too soon, and eight years later, he died too. William and I stayed with our stepmother and two stepsisters, who aren’t the warmest of people. Growing up, it felt like it was me and William against the world. We were literally the redheaded stepchildren. (I was wearing a hat when we met, so you might not have noticed my red hair.) And now that same baby brother has gone and proposed to a woman I want to trust but don’t. How is he even old enough to get married?
    Wow, I am throwing a fabulous pity party for myself, aren’t I? As I reread this e-mail, I realize I’ve painted myself in a very tragic light. My life isn’t tragic, really. Yes, I’ve had my losses. But who hasn’t? God has given me a flower shop that I cherish, a younger brother I adore, and this quirky little town that I love. I like my life, Nate. I’m happy with where I’ve landed. I just wish I felt more confident about where William is landing.
    Sorry again for making you wait!
    Amelia
    PS: Bravo on the Mr. Darcy quote. He’s a long-standing literary crush of mine. Your e-mail opening might have made me swoon a little.
    PPS: I haven’t seen The Man Who Knew Too Much . I had to look it up on IMDb. I’ll have to watch it. I’m a big fan of Jimmy Stewart and Doris Day.

    I woke at five in the morning feeling a strange combination of panic and regret. Nate had wanted to know how things turned out regarding his advice. He’d never asked me about my family history or all of my accompanying feelings. Why had I shared so much? And how much of a freak did he think I was for divulging all that I’d divulged? I wasn’t even sure how it happened. I’d sat down at the computer, it all sort of tumbled out, and now he definitely knew too much—whether he wanted to or not.
    Maybe I needed to keep a journal. Maybe if I kept a