Grace turned the sign on the front door and locked it. She was closed. Her meeting with the bridal couple had lasted almost two hours.

“I don’t know how you did that,” Troy said, stacking up his papers.

“I was taught,” she said. “The couple I worked for—they were so perfect at pleasing people.”

“When I first met Jake and Janet I thought they were headed for divorce. When they left, I thought everything would be fine.”

“This is so typical. They think they have a budget, but what they really have done is run out of money after the dress and reception and pictures, but they still want flowers.”

“For fifty bucks,” Troy said with a laugh.

“You have exceptional hearing.”

“Yeah, it’s a teacher thing.”

“They’ll probably argue about the expenses several times between now and the wedding and they’ll spend more than they plan to because it’s always more. But I use all the flowers I order so the bouquets and arrangements will be stunning, and that’s a fact. I’m very good at this.”

“Where’d you get the program that pulls the flowers together?”

“Mamie and Ross, the couple I worked for, daydreamed about something like that. We could make up sample arrangements and bouquets, photograph them and load them on the computer, but this is state-of-the-art. I worked on it with a nerdy girl I met in Portland. I admit she did most of the program work, but I designed the site and loaded the flowers and arrangements. Isn’t it great? It’s like creating an online greeting card. Mamie and Ross sold it to a couple of noncompeting florists. I think they got a good price.”

“Did you get a good price?” he asked.

“More than that, I got my future.”

Seven

For Ray Anne Dysart, life was more productive and satisfying than ever before, at least as far as she could remember. She had her real estate business, mostly property management, small but respectable. She owned her own home, something she had worked hard to make happen as a hedge against retirement, even though she had no intention of retiring until she had no other option. She had her best friends, Lou McCain Metcalf and Carrie James. And she had Al.

Dear Al. He was hardly her first steady man. She was a little afraid to think about what number he was in a long line of previous beaux and lovers; in fact, she had been married three times. All water over the dam. Al was the most special man she’d ever known and completely unlike her usual type. He was a mechanic for one thing—grease under the blunt nails on those big calloused, gentle hands. He was physical, rough and ready and the best-natured man she knew. Plus, he had those three foster sons. Yes, there was a time Ray Anne had wanted children but she’d gotten over that a long while back. The boys, Justin, Danny and Kevin, were nineteen, fifteen and thirteen respectively. Good boys and Al kept them in line, but Ray Anne didn’t feel equipped to be a parent to boys, foster or otherwise. She was a girlie girl. Yet she couldn’t help but admit she enjoyed them and got a kick out of the way Al was able to manage them.

She felt she was thriving with Al and his family of boys. Of course, most of the time it was just Al she was with. She saw him every day. She would swing by Lucky’s, the service station where he worked. Or he would drop by her house before or after his shift, provided his boys were taken care of. Sometimes they met at the diner for a quick meal or Cliffhanger’s for a drink. Cliff’s was the only restaurant in town with tablecloths. Sometimes they managed a whole evening or day off together; sometimes she joined Al and the boys for dinner. And if they planned carefully, she and Al could get naked and have some real quality time. Once or twice a week.

Like now.

It was Sunday, early afternoon. Al had the day off. The boys had driven to the nursing home where their mother resided. They visited her at least once a week, such devoted sons. Ray Anne took complete advantage of the opportunity when the boys were otherwise occupied.

She stretched out in bed. She smiled. She could hear the shower running. Al had spent the morning in her garage, changing the oil in her car, checking her brakes and such. He wanted to clean up before joining her in bed. She wore one of her sheer lacy, seductive little nighties, waiting. Her cell phone chimed and she frowned. It better not be important, she thought. She’d been looking forward to a little time alone with her man.

It was her cousin, Dick. Ray Anne had very little family, but she and Dick had been close growing up and kept in touch. She picked up. “Dickie, let me call you back in a little while...”

“It’s important, Ray,” he said. “Call me back right away, okay? As soon as you can?”

“What’s so important?”

“It’s Ginger,” he said. “She’s just not doing well. I don’t know what more to do. Me and Sue, we’re out of ideas. She’s had counseling, talked to the minister, her friends have tried to boost her up. We thought maybe if she went to stay with you for a little while...”

“Honey, I don’t know what to do, either.”

“Could you think about it? Even if it’s only a few weeks? Because we worry about her and she just won’t help herself. We thought maybe a change...”

“Do you have any idea how gloomy it is here in winter? I wouldn’t expect it to lift her spirits any. And besides, I’m in a... Well, I’m in a relationship and it’s hard enough finding time.”

“Ray, it’s almost spring and you always got a relationship, don’t you? Girl, I think I need help this time. Could you just think about it? See if you get any ideas that could help us out? Because we don’t want to lose her. Ain’t we lost enough?”

She took a deep breath. “Sure. Of course. Let me think about this. Let me ask some of my close friends for ideas. They know a lot more about kids and family stuff. I love her, you know that.” The shower stopped. “I just don’t know anything about how to help in a situation like hers. And God, I’d hate myself forever if I just made it worse. You know I’m not much of a mommy kind of girl.”

“You were her fairy godmother,” he said. “Just the sight of you made her happy.”

“Well, the sight of me is damn hard to fix up these days. I’m not young anymore.”

“Neither am I,” he said. “And she isn’t that young, either.”