“Her business is floundering.”
Jess didn’t reach for another flower. Instead she said, “Poor girl. It’s so unfortunate.”
“And no one’s helping her.”
“Well… I still buy all my lingerie there. Regardless of what Lydia has to say about it.”
“What right does she have to say anything at all?” Liza queried as she reached for the remaining empty basket sitting on the workbench, thinking she could follow Jess’ lead while they talked.
“Lydia doesn’t consider Ginger’s wares…suitable…for Wilder.”
“Again,” Liza pointed out as she wedged the green foam into the bottom of the basket and sprinkled some water on it to dampen it, as Jess had done with her baskets. “Who is Lydia to talk? What business is it of hers what people wear—or do—in the privacy of their own bedroom?”
“Her husband is the reverend. Being his wife means she has certain obligations.”
“Like cramming morality down the throats of the townsfolk? Subjecting people to her views and opinions, touting them as governing guidelines of decency, even though, last I checked, Texas hasn’t yet seceded from the nation and become Bain Country?”
“Well…”
Liza continued on, her voice hitching up a notch or two as her aggravation got the best of her. “There is a Constitution upholding all Americans’ rights and freedoms. Or did I miss the part that says the citizens of Wilder are excluded from the rights under the First Amendment? And for that matter, wasn’t the amendment to abolish liquor repealed in like, what, the 1930s?”
Jess laughed. “Boy, when you get on a tangent!” She shook her head and smiled. “Remind me not to engage in a debate with you on, oh anything!”
Liza stabbed a stem into the foam. She thought it was a lily, but couldn’t say for sure.
“Sorry,” she said, contrite. “Didn’t mean to go all Rambo on you.”
“No, it was great. I mean, I completely agree. Except…” She shrugged a shoulder as she watched Liza jam another flower into the foam. And cringed. “Being the reverend’s wife, of course she’s going to take offense over Ginger’s displays.”
“I noted several cheap knockoffs of brand-name shampoos in Lydia’s shop, but I didn’t take offense to her pushing fakes on to her clients.”
“It’s not the same,” Jess
said.
Of course, she was right, but still. “So Lydia frowns upon the goods Ginger is trying to sell and everyone else follows suit because Lord help them if they should publicly choose sexy lingerie over God,” she borrowed Jack’s sentiment about booze from the night before, “and the next thing you know, there’s a silent ban on Ginger’s boutique and all the hard work and money she invested is for naught.”
Jess sighed. “I hear what you’re saying. And it’s not like Lydia is personally trying to destroy Ginger’s business—”
“Not just her business,” Liza interjected, “But Ginger herself.” She recalled how distraught the shop owner had been on Saturday and it broke her heart all over again.
Jess was silent a moment. Liza picked up a yellow daisy—an easy one to identify—and poked it into the base in the basket. She pushed too hard and the delicate stem snapped.
“Damn,” she muttered.
“Careful,” Jess said. “You have to ease them in gently. Otherwise you’ll end up with all those broken stems—and each one costs me money.”
“Sorry. You can take it out of my pay.”
She laughed. “I will not.”
“I’ll be more careful.” But it was going to take her twice as long to assemble a basket than it did Jess. In fact, Jess was reaching for the satin to lavish the arrangement with a bow while Liza had only stuck a half-dozen or so stems into her basket.
Jess finished up and came round to Liza’s side of the workbench. Assessing her work, Jess let out a soft tsking noise, as she was prone to do. Looking at the basket with a critical eye, Liza could see her dismay.
“Little crooked, isn’t it?”
“You have to keep it balanced on both sides, knowing you’ll use a larger flower in the center as the focal point.” She reached for a book, flipped through some pages and set it on the table next to the basket. “Try to copy this arrangement.”