Part 5 (1/2)
After so many clothing options, she went for the reliable denim jeans and pink sweater. Better not to look like she was trying too hard. Her hair was still in a bouncy pony tail because it was too long and got in the way when she was working. She was wearing makeup, too, so a definite improvement on the week before. Becky wore natural shades of brown eye shadow and just a tiny amount of blusher. She didn't want to look like she'd made a gargantuan effort, but she had. Jilly always insisted she was pretty, but Becky thought she had a sort of girl-next-door look about her.
Like her Monday Man, she had brown eyes. Hers were in a heart shaped face and Jilly had informed her with amus.e.m.e.nt that she had a tiny nose. Her mouth wasn't big like the divas on television but she had sweet bow-shaped lips that looked even prettier with a little pink lipstick.
Don't blush, don't blush, she told herself now, because you'll clash with your lipstick and sweater!
She tried to look more self a.s.sured than she felt. ”How did the flowers go over?” she asked. Today was a little warmer and he wasn't wearing his jacket, so she could see that he had a trim build. He was in denim today, too-they matched! She didn't mention it but noted that he was a lot more casual this Monday and unless she was mistaken, it was the same tan belt and shoes. If he knew how much she was checking him out he would probably have run from the shop screaming but, of course-mercifully-he didn't.
”Great, thanks.” He grinned and a dimple appeared in his chin that she hadn't seen on his last visit. He had a nice voice, too. Becky's heart soared when he smiled.
”I'll get the same again.” Her heart plunged just as fast when she heard that he wanted to repeat the order of boring hydrangeas. Either the lady in his life had no flair for flowers or she was in love with him and would take anything that represented a token of his affections.
She scrunched up her tiny nose despite trying not to. ”You're sure you wouldn't like to try something new this week?” Becky looked at the display of incredible flowers along the benches.
”I have the most amazing birds of paradise in at the moment,” she said. ”They've been flown in from South Africa.”
”You like those?”
”They'd have to be one of my favorites. They really do look like exotic birds.” Becky came out from behind her counter.
”Um, excuse me.” She smiled up at him.
”Oh, sorry.” He took a sideways step but there was so little room she had to brush by him close enough to smell his cologne. Do not blush, she told herself again, and keep moving.
”These.” She pulled a single bird of paradise from its bucket of water.
”Wow, it really is amazing and it does kinda look like a bird but, to be honest, I don't think it's right for me, for my . . . for what I want. I'll just go for the same as last week, if you have them.” He glanced at the other flowers on display.
Had she known for sure that he was coming in, she might have even gone so far as to hide the darn mophead hydrangeas. But there was no warning. What could she do? Becky saw his eyes fall on the hydrangeas and she was cornered.
She placed her precious bird of paradise back in its watery cradle and yanked out the hideous hydrangeas that he wanted. Then she went back to the sanctuary of her counter. Becky knew she was being a little more curt than usual, but it was breaking her heart that she couldn't impress this lovely man with her flower-arranging abilities. It upset her that she couldn't run up a little magic of colors, shapes and perfumes to dazzle the woman in his life and maybe him, too, but no-he wanted just what he'd had the week before. She wrapped them up as beautifully as clear plastic would permit and handed them over. He paid cash. Again.
”Would you like to join our mailing list?” she suddenly asked, remembering that then she'd need his email address. ”I can update you on things going on in the shop.”
For a moment he looked confused. Then he smiled and the dimple came back. ”No, I don't think that's necessary.”
Why is he grinning as he says no? she wondered. Did he think she was into him? How wrong was he? She didn't want to, but Becky felt herself sulking.
”No problem, sir. It was just a suggestion.” Sir, did I seriously just say sir? What in the h.e.l.l is wrong with me? she wondered. She knew she was being churlish but he just nodded and headed back out the door.
”Well, you really showed him.” Jilly laughed when she came in to say hi, later that day. ”You even had a week to prepare for his visit and still you got nothing out of him. That said, I've never seen you looking so good-go you.”
”Well, what does it matter? If he's become a regular customer it's because he's buying a lot of flowers, and if he's doing that, it's because he has a woman in his life so why do I care what his name is?”
”Why do you care? I'll tell you why, Becky. Because he's clearly a hunk or at least you think he is. I can see written it all over your face.”
”I'll grant you he's cute but I'm sure he's spoken for.”
”We don't know that yet.”
”No. Nor do we know if we'll ever see him again. So why don't we just change the subject. I told you-I tried to get his email and he wasn't happy about that, so let's just move onward, shall we?”
”Okay.” For a second Jilly looked defeated but then she grinned.
”We'll move on to next Monday when he comes in again. We have to plan tactics and make a strategy to figure out who he is and what he's up to. Remember what the sign says.” Jilly pointed to the little wooden sign up on the wall behind Becky's head. ”Tomorrow's flowers are the seeds you plant today. We need to do some planting!”
Becky rolled her eyes. ”I give up.”
The 3rd & 4th Monday She really did try the following Monday when he came in again and the Monday after that. She tried to make conversation, but he was too quiet and distant. She made sure she looked her best again. She wore her nicest dress on Monday number three and a new skirt on Monday number four. Like before, her hair was always s.h.i.+ny and she wore a little makeup.
Becky knew she was looking her best and trying to be her most charming. Short of banging him over the head with a club and dragging him back to her cave, she was out of ideas. The only possible solution was that he was already committed. Jilly instructed her to find out once and for all if he was married or living with someone or if he even had a girlfriend. At least that way they would know-one way or the other.
”I used to hate Mondays. They were my worst day of the week. Now they're my best and worst day wrapped into one. Before his visit I'm ridiculously hopeful and I feel like a teenager, and after he's gone, I'm thoroughly fed up and wonder if I'm just over the hill.”
”Don't talk like that, Becky,” Jilly said. ”You know the landscape's changed. There's simply, no such thing as over the hill anymore, thanks to Joan Collins and Madonna. You don't even have to date an older man. You can pick a younger guy if you like.”
”If I can't have a gentleman gardener, my second choice would have to be my Monday Man, but I'm still not sure if he's out in the field or pot-bound.”
”This Monday you have to find out once and for all. No excuses.” Jilly had given her a list of questions that would be reasonable to ask after four visits.
The 5th Monday This week, Becky was ready. She had memorized her boss's list and she was determined not to let another chance go by without discovering more about him.
”I have to tell you, you're one of my best customers at this stage and I don't even know your name,” Becky said on his next visit. That was exactly what Jilly had told her to say.
”My name is Bob. Nice to meet you.” The dimple reappeared and so did her goose b.u.mps.
”Becky.” She reached her hand out to shake his, but just as they did, his cell phone rang. He looked apologetic but answered the call.
Becky pretended to focus on wrapping the flowers and taking his cash while he spoke with somebody called Whitney. It didn't sound romantic but how would she know? Just as he finished the call another customer walked in. What were the chances? On a Monday? Of all the times to get busy, she thought miserably. He seemed to hover for a moment, but he left before her next customer did so they never got to chat.
Jilly was incredulous. ”You didn't even manage to get his last name? You would never have made it as a spy,” she said at their now routine post-Monday-Man-visit chat.
They talked about him all week. They hatched plans and fantasized about his life. Maybe he was a huge businessman. Perhaps he was married with fifteen kids.
”Have you considered that maybe he's gay?” Becky blurted out one day but Jilly shook her head straight away.
”Your gaydar would have picked it up. You would have sensed it and he would have had much better taste in fresh cut flowers.”
”That's gayist,” Becky said. ”Gay people are just as ent.i.tled as straight folks to have bad taste in flowers.”
Jilly laughed. ”I don't think so. Gay men in Texas, in my experience, are better dressed, have smarter homes, and like more sophisticated cut flowers than straight guys. Just sayin'.”
”I'm thinking that's not gayist, it's straightest-not that it matters because he's not gay,” Becky said. ”He can't be and he's the best smelling man I've ever had the pleasure of sniffing.”
”Better than a Princess Diana Rose?”
”Yep.”
”Not better than Sarcococca in full bloom?”
Becky nodded solemnly. ”Better.”