Chapter 5

Eleanor POV

I read the email twice before replying.

The gala organizers wanted a quote, a design proposal, and confirmation that I could deliver on time. The first two were straightforward. The third meant taking a very careful look at the orders already in my calendar.

I pulled a sheet of paper toward me and started writing.

My assistant arrived while I was checking quantities.

“You look busy.”

“Come tell me if I’m about to make a terrible decision.”

She set her bag down and came around the counter. I turned the email toward her.

“The Symphony gala?”

“They’re asking whether we can take it.”

She read to the end, then looked at my notes.

“Can we?”

“If the supplier can get me what I need.”

“And if they like your price.”

“That too.”

I didn’t want to send an eager yes and spend the next week regretting it. A big order could be good for the shop. It could also leave us working all night for less money than we’d make handling our regular customers.

I made a call about the flowers, then checked the delivery arrangements. When a customer came in, I put everything aside and helped her choose a bouquet.

By eleven, I had two possible designs and a much better idea of what the job would cost.

The more elaborate option looked good on paper. It also needed more flowers, more time, and vases I didn’t have enough of.

I crossed it out.

“Really?” my assistant asked.

“The tables need room for people to eat.”

“It was pretty.”

“It can be pretty somewhere with a bigger budget.”

I worked on the second design until I could picture it repeated across the room without looking crowded. Then I checked my figures again and sent the proposal.

For the first time since opening the email, I let myself sit back.

I wanted the order. There was no point pretending I didn’t.

I just wanted it on terms I could actually meet.

Catherine called while I was eating lunch behind the counter.

I swallowed the bite I’d just taken before answering.

“Hello?”

“Eleanor. We’re having dinner at the house tonight. I’d like you there.”

I glanced at the open calendar beside me.

“What time?”

“Seven. Derek and his father will be coming back together.”

So they already had plans for the evening.

This morning, Derek had asked when I finished work. I’d spent more time than I wanted to admit wondering whether he meant to be home when I got there.

“I’m at the shop,” I said. “I’ll need to come straight from here.”

“That’s fine.”

I waited for her to tell me there was something we needed to discuss. The pause lasted long enough that I could hear someone speaking in the background at her end.

“Was there anything else?” I asked.

“No. Just don’t be late. Your father-in-law has an early morning tomorrow.”

“I’ll be there.”

She ended the call.

I put my phone down and picked up the rest of my lunch.

Dinner. An ordinary family dinner, with a time and an expectation that I would arrive looking as though I belonged there.

At least I knew what I was being invited to.

My assistant came back from the cooler carrying a bucket.

“Everything okay?”

“Dinner with my husband’s family.”

She looked at the sandwich in my hand. “You might want to eat that anyway.”

“I intend to.”

The gala coordinator called in the afternoon.

She had the proposal open in front of her and wanted to go through it while we were both available.

I moved to the worktable with my notebook.

“We liked the overall shape,” she said. “Would you be able to make them taller?”

“A little. Are you trying to fill more space in the room, or make them more visible from the entrance?”

“From the entrance, mostly.”

I looked down at the sketch.

“I can adjust the display there. If I raise all the table pieces, you’ll lose the clear view across the tables.”

“You think people will have trouble talking?”

“They’ll be leaning around the flowers.”

She was quiet for a moment.

“All right. Show me what you mean for the entrance.”

We went through the rest of the proposal. She asked about color, delivery, and what would happen if one of the flowers wasn’t available. I told her what I could promise and what I’d need some flexibility on.

By the end of the call, there were three changes in my notebook.

“Send me the revision,” she said. “I’ll put it in front of the committee.”

“You’ll have it this afternoon.”

I hung up and checked the time.

There was enough of the day left. Provided I got moving.

For the next two hours, I barely looked at my phone.

Once the revised proposal was sent, I helped finish the remaining orders, cleaned my tools, and checked the next morning’s deliveries.

Only then did I remember I still had to change for dinner.

I had a clean blouse at the shop. I kept it there for customer meetings when there was a good chance I’d spend the morning with wet stems pressed against my clothes.

It would have to do.

In the small mirror, I checked the cuffs and brushed a stray piece of greenery off my shoulder.

My hands still smelled faintly of flowers after I washed them.

There was nothing I could do about that, either.

I reached the Wells house a few minutes before seven.

I’d grown up here. I knew where the floor creaked and which hallway led to the kitchen. That didn’t stop me from checking my reflection in the dark glass beside the front door before ringing the bell.

Catherine met me in the sitting room.

She was dressed for dinner. I was dressed for a customer meeting, with my work bag still over my shoulder.

“Eleanor.”

“Thank you for inviting me.”

“You can leave your bag in the hall.”

I took it back out, checked that my phone was on silent, and set it beside my coat.

When I returned, she gestured toward a chair.

“They won’t be long.”

I sat, keeping my hands loosely together in my lap.

“Was the shop busy?” she asked.

“Yes. I’ve been working on a proposal.”

“For a wedding?”

“A charity gala.”

She nodded, waiting.

“The Symphony’s,” I added.

Her attention sharpened slightly.

“You’re doing the flowers?”

“Not yet. They’re reviewing the quote.”

“I see.”

I couldn’t tell whether she was interested or simply placing the event among the people she knew. I didn’t offer anything more.

She asked whether I wanted a drink. I chose water.

We’d barely settled again when I heard voices in the hall.

Jonathan came in first, speaking over his shoulder to Derek. Whatever he’d said made Derek answer with a short laugh.

Then Derek saw me.

His gaze paused on my blouse before coming back to my face.

I stood as Jonathan approached.

“Eleanor. Good to see you.”

“You too.”

He glanced at Catherine. “Are we late?”

“Not quite.”

He smiled at her and went to put away the folder he was carrying.

Derek remained near the doorway.

I hadn’t seen him since leaving him in our kitchen that morning. He’d shaved, changed, and put on a suit. The familiarity of waking beside him felt less easy to hold on to here.

“You came straight from work,” he said.

“Yes.”

His eyes moved briefly to my hands.

I resisted the urge to hide them behind my back. There was nothing wrong with them. One small cut on my thumb, a trace of color near a nail that hadn’t quite washed away.

“How did the order go?” he asked.

“She collected it on time.”

“Good.”

I couldn’t tell whether he remembered anything beyond my reason for leaving that morning. Still, he’d asked.

Catherine rose.

“Let’s go through.”

Derek stepped aside to let me pass. As I moved past him, his hand touched the small of my back, brief and familiar.

I kept walking toward the dining room.