Frank turned to Will. “I wondered where all those flowers at the courthouse came from. They from you, boy?”
“They sure are. Not that it’s doing me much good. Yet.”
“You’re positive she’ll like ’em?” Frank looked at Mrs. C. again.
“Of course she will! I’m a florist, and I know my business!”
Will detected an undercurrent of jealousy in her tone. This could be promising—if only Frank hadn’t turned his attention to another woman.
“I’ll take ’em.”
“I haven’t told you how much they are.”
“I don’t care. She’s worth it.”
Frank winked at Will. Mrs. C. saw it and fumed. In fact, Will noted, she was so mad, she doubled the price.
“That’ll be eighty dollars. Would you like a card to go with them?”
Frank slapped two fifties on the counter, saying, “Keep the change, and yes, I’ll take a card.”
He chose a pen and started writing in the card. Mrs. C. tapped her foot. Will grinned at her. She glared back at him. A strategic retreat right about now would be a good idea, but Will couldn’t drag himself away. Instead, he climbed the stepladder and pretended to wipe down a top shelf.
“There.” Frank placed the card in the bouquet and stood back as if to admire his handiwork.
“If there’s nothing else I can help you with, then you’ll be going,” Mrs. C. said in dismissal.
“Not so fast,” Frank said, handing over the flowers.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“Read the card.”
Scowling, she opened it and read aloud. “‘Dearest Edna, Roses are red, violets are blue. My heart is so lonely, lonely for you.’”
Will’s heart soared. But Mrs. C. looked as though she didn’t know whether to laugh or be sick.
The sight of Louella munching on one of the buckets of brilliantly colored gerberas brought her back to the present. “Oh, you naughty pig!” she cried, picking up a broom to chase Louella off. Louella spotted her and squealed, charging toward the protection of Frank’s legs. Unfortunately, she knocked over several flower-filled buckets and crashed into Will’s ladder in her haste to escape.
The doorbell rang, announcing another customer, as Will tumbled off the ladder and landed on top of Louella who squealed even louder and rushed out the back of the shop. She headed into Mrs. Carmichael’s living quarters, leaving a trail of wet trotter prints in her wake and Will lying half-dazed in a flower-strewn pool of water.
“You and your blasted pig, Frank Farquar! You should both be locked up,” Mrs. C. declared as Will felt himself all over for injuries. “Now look what she’s done. Get her out of my home!”
“I can’t understand this. I told her to be on her best behavior. Maybe she’s jealous?” Frank muttered and went in pursuit of Louella.
The jealous comment only served to make Edna Carmichael madder. She picked up a vase and threw it at him. It hit the wall and smashed.
Will dragged his attention from the commotion at the back of the shop to the customer who’d entered through the front door.
The judge was standing there, her expression contemptuous as she stared at the scene of devastation.
Will scrambled to his feet. “I’m afraid you’ve caught me at a bad time.”
“I wasn’t coming to see you, Mr. O’Malley, but since you’re here, I can deliver my message in person.”
“I’m all ears.” He offered one of his deep-dimpled grins, knowing from experience that women would forgive him anything if he smiled at them. Except maybe this particular woman…
The judge was unmoved by his overture. “Thank you for the flowers. Please don’t send me any more,” she said, then turned on her heel and left the store.
Will was puzzled. Why wouldn’t a woman want flowers? His dad had wooed his mom with flowers. His mom had apparently been as difficult to date as the judge, but his dad had persisted. Three months later, they were married, and now, nearly forty years on, they were still blissfully in love. If persistence had worked for his father, Will was sure it could work for him. However, he couldn’t keep presuming on Mrs. C.’s generosity. He needed to find a real job—a paying job—one the judge would respect.
“I’ll pay for any damage,” Frank said as he walked into the front of the shop with Louella in tow, a sullen expression on her face and her tutu torn to shreds.
“Just. Get. Out!” Mrs. C. yelled, picking up the lilies and hurling them at Frank. “And take these with you!” Mumbling under her breath, she went to survey the damage to her home.
Will glanced from Frank to Mrs. C.’s apartment doorway and then back again at Frank.
Frank shook his head. “I guess I left my run on Edna’s affections too late.”
Will didn’t want to point out the obvious—he was around forty years too late. Still, where there was life, there was hope. “Let me talk to her. I think your romantic gesture was a mite too overwhelming for a woman of Mrs. C.’s, ah, independence.” He was going to say age, but thought better of it. If Frank was feeling his oats, then Will didn’t want to go reminding either of them they were getting old.
“You’d do that for me, boy?” Frank pulled a cigar from his pocket, stuck it in his mouth and chewed on it.
“Where true love’s concerned, I’d walk to the ends of the earth. On hot coals.”
Frank nodded. “That you would, boy. That you would.” He shot another forlorn glance toward the rear of the shop. “You let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”
Will slapped his shoulder. “No problem, Mr. F.” He hunkered down to talk to Louella. “Now, Lou, you’ve got to promise me you’ll behave yourself. You’ve gone and upset Mrs. C. and spoiled your daddy’s chances of a hot date tonight. Understand?”
The pig snorted and pushed her snout in Will’s face.
Will wiped his face with his sleeve and stood. “Can I suggest next time you come visiting, you leave Lou in the car?”
Frank frowned, as though that hadn’t occurred to him. “Excellent idea, boy. She was only jealous. Usually she’s a good girl.”
“Maybe she needs a four-legged companion,” he said, thinking a certain dog of Miss P.’s would be perfect.
“I ain’t gettin’ another pig. Lou doesn’t like other pigs. She gets real jealous and tears the place up. Much worse than this.” He started to tidy up.
“I’ll take care of that,” Will said. “Your best strategy right now is to get out of here. I’ll sweet-talk Mrs. C., sing your praises, and I’ll tell you when the coast is clear for another visit. Okay?”
Frank slowly contemplated his suggestion. No wonder a live wire like Edna Carmichael had slipped through the older man’s fingers all those years ago.
“If that’s what you figure, Lou and I’ll be gettin’ along.” He peeled off another two fifties and put them on the counter. “To pay for damages,” he explained, then shoved a wad of cash into the donation tin. “For the buildings. Maybe it’d be better if Edna opened that bank account herself.”
“To be fair and honest, it’ll need two signatories, and considering you’re our major donor so far, you should be