Read Online The Art of Arranging Flowers by Lynne Branard - Free Book Online

you walk in the door to sign the guest book, the large one for the head table where my parents will sit, and another couple of small ones for where people place the gifts.” She taps her finger on her chin. “Do you have four gold vases?”
    My mind is reeling because I have to call Cooper right away. I’m going to need to order white roses. “Um, yes,” I reply, recalling the box of silver and gold vases I bought from a floral show last year.
    â€œGreat! Let’s put all of the arrangements in gold vases. That should satisfy my sister. She said for me to spend about two hundred on flowers. Oh, and a corsage for Mom and a small rose for Dad, something that matches all the others. Let’s go with white, I guess. Will that be about two hundred dollars?”
    Nora is punching numbers on the calculator. She does my bookkeeping in addition to helping me clean and work the counter. “Two hundred twelve,” she answers, and I’m impressed that she knows enough about the arrangements to know how much to charge. I give her a big grin.
    â€œPerfect,” Kathy responds. “You have my credit card on file, right?” And she takes back the twenty-dollar bills she had placed on the counter to cover the plant rental. “Just put everything on that.”
    I nod. I’m pretty sure she has a Visa card for the real estate company on file with me, but I’m not one to ask about business and personal charges. I let the customers sort that stuff out. I take out my pad and write down the order so I won’t forget this conversation.
    â€œSo, just get the plants at the Buckley house by two this afternoon. My appointment with Mr. Cash is at three. And then you can pick them back up any time after lunch tomorrow. I’m going to try and take my pictures in the morning. And I’ll come by Friday before you close to pick up the anniversary flowers. The party is Saturday evening at the Silver Bear Lodge. We can put those in a box or something so they won’t spill, right?”
    I nod. I’m making all the notes I need to have for myself about plants and golden vases and white roses. “Thank you, Kathy.” I finish writing and glance up from the counter.
    She studies me. “Posture,” she says, and I snap up tall. “And don’t forget to breathe.”
    I inhale.
    â€œPerfect,” she responds with her teacher’s voice. “I’ll see you on Friday,” she adds. And she turns to walk out the door.
    We watch as she opens the driver’s door and gets into her Cadillac.
    â€œI never liked her,” Nora says, and her comment makes me laugh.

• T EN •

    I AM making a list of supplies I will need for the rest of the week when Captain Miller walks in the door. Nora has gone to pick up Jimmy. He only had to stay in jail overnight. She is going to stop by the wholesale shop in Spokane and pick up some red ribbon, extra greenery, and little hearts on sticks to add to the bouquets being ordered for next week.
    â€œRuby, I find myself in a quandary.”
    Captain Miller was an astronaut. He’s the most famous man in Creekside, the smartest too, I imagine. He has four PhDs but he retired from the military as an officer and prefers Captain to Doctor, so that’s how he’s addressed by most of us around here.
    He flew four missions to the moon in the 1970s. He claims he had an epiphany on the second trip, suddenly understood the notion that everything in the universe is connected, that we are all made of stardust. He came home, sold everything he owned, studied paleontology and ancient mysticism at a college in Texas, and became immersed in the fields of quantum physics and the nature of mind over matter. He started a foundation and has written lots of books, gets asked to speak all over the world. He’s a brilliant man but most everyone in Creekside hasn’t a clue about what he does or how he thinks.
    â€œCaptain