Read Online The Look of Love: A Novel by Sarah Jio - Free Book Online

even care if I succeed or fail at this so-called gift? What does it matter to you?”
    She smiles to herself. “We are a sisterhood, dear. In a world where all are blind, we see.” She places her hand on my arm. “You mustn’t fail.”

Chapter 4

    H ow can we help you?” Lo says to an attractive man as he walks through the door of the flower shop. Lo handles our male customers with such skill that by the time they’re ready to make a purchase they are either head over heels and asking for her phone number or charmed into submission and eager to buy any item she recommends.
    “I have a problem,” the man says. He’s wearing a fedora and a well-tailored pinstripe suit.
    Lo grins. “Nothing that a flower arrangement can’t fix.”
    “That’s what I’m hoping,” he says, cocking his head to the right, somewhat playfully, at Lo. “Here’s the thing. I messed up. I broke a woman’s heart, and I, well, I want to mend it.”
    “Mend her heart, eh?” I hear the sarcasm in her voice. She doesn’t like this man. Not one bit. “And, may I ask, how bad was the, er, heartbreak?”
    “Bad,” he says. “Listen, I’m not proud of it, but I cheated on her.”
    At my place behind the counter, I bite my lip. It never ceases to amaze me how men regard florists as therapists. One whiff of a rose and they spill their guts.
    “I see,” Lo says, taking guarded steps toward our front-end case, where we keep the type of arrangements a certain subset of the population likes: vanilla combinations of roses and baby’s breath, with the occasional carnation thrown in for good measure. No matter how inventive, creative, and imaginative you can get with floral design, some people just want boring. “And you’re looking for flowers that say, ‘I love you. I’m sorry. Take me back.’”
    “Yes,” the man says, looking at Lo as if she has psychic abilities. “Exactly.”
    “Right, then,” she says, opening one of the refrigerator doors. “Then I’m going to suggest pink roses, with a generous helping of baby’s breath.” I cringe as I watch her reach for the vase.
    “This is perfect,” the man says.
    “Good,” Lo replies with a sly smile.
    As she swipes his credit card, another customer enters, the man in his forties from the other day. “Want me to help?” I say to Lo, who looks up and catches his eye.
    “No,” she says, looking ahead intently. “You have all that paperwork to do, and you have a hair appointment this morning, right?”
    I nod.
    “I’ll take him,” she says as Mr. Cheater walks out the door.
    I can see the way her hips sway as she approaches him. Lo is a pro at the game of love, and I love to watch her do her thing, even if I sometimes disapprove of her tactics.
    “Well, hello again,” she says, smiling and tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear.
    He scratches his head, accentuating his gold wedding band.
No, Lo, no.
    “I need something simple,” he says. “Peonies, maybe. With freesia?”
    Men aren’t typically familiar with peonies, so I know Lo is impressed. “Oh, what’s the occasion?” she asks, obviously prying.
    He rubs his forehead. “It’s, well, it’s for someone special.”
    “A lady in your life?” she says, walking to the back counter.
    “Yes,” he replies.
    “Your wife?”
    He hesitates, then shakes his head. “We’re going through a rough patch. But no, these are for my mother. Tomorrow would have been her wedding anniversary, but my father passed away last year.”
    “I’m sorry,” Lo says, “and about your wife too.” But on the latter point there is no true concern in her voice, only curiosity. “Are you separated?”
    “Well, we’re headed that way,” he says, shaking his head. “I mean, can I be honest with you?”
    She nods with rapt attention.
    “I’m trying to go through the motions of someone trying to save their marriage, but”—he rubs his forehead—“I just don’t know that my heart’s in it.” He sighs. “That probably