He Loves Me Not (Bunch-A-Blooms 1)

“So is she,” he murmured.

“Good answer, son,” George said with a nod that made him feel like he’d won a million-dollar prize. The hardest part was done. Now the real planning began.

***

It was a tradition that he and Petunia spent the evening of his birthday and hers together. That usually meant meeting up for at least a quick drink or a bite to eat. This time, however, it was different. He took his dad’s advice and made it about their journey through life together, with a scavenger hunt everyone had pitched in on, unbeknownst to her.

“Happy birthday, Mas.”

“Happy almost birthday, Petunia.” He handed her a travel mug of coffee. “You have about ten minutes to get up and meet me downstairs. I planned something different this year.”

“Wait.” She cupped the mug, frowning. “It’s your special day. I’m supposed to be giving something to you.”

“No, we agreed it’s our days, and this will be fun for both of us. Trust me, it’s a scavenger hunt.”

Her eyes twinkled. “You didn’t.”

“I did. Now get dressed and join me for our first clue and our customary Buskens breakfasts.”

“A cheese cup?”

“Do I ever disappoint you?”

“No.” She beamed, and he laughed.

“Wait, what should I wear?”

“Someone who shall remain nameless picked out your outfit for the day. It’s in the box on the table.” He gestured toward the bright yellow package sitting with roses on the iron table where they often drank their coffee.

“You really went all out, didn’t you?”

“Kind of felt appropriate after last year’s fiasco. We didn’t get to do anything for our thirty year anniversary. This is our do-over.”

“Ugh. To be fair, who expected a freak snow storm at the beginning of March?” she asked.

“Only in Cincinnati,” he agreed. “I’m going to go check on the plans while you caffeinate and dress.” He tried to play it cool as he left the room, sweating in his dress jeans and black cashmere sweater. He wanted to look nice for the photos he’d hired a photographer to take as he trailed them with Bryce and Olive. Willow was manning the store but had the celebratory champagne ready for after the acceptance.

He gave the kitchen nook a critical eye. He set up like Lois and Melinda showed him, but it lacked their finesse. The cardboard box housing the smaller envelope was set beside the platter he’d filled with cheese cups and Bearclaws, their two favorite indulgences. ‘Petunia, take a trip with me through the years’ was written in an elegant cursive font. He traced the words with the tip of his fingers. His future depended on this doing its job. Despite their prior agreement, he was a bundle of nerves.

Footsteps on the stairs drew his attention. He turned to watch her descend. She was stunning in a white and blue

striped skirt, a pretty pink blouse with a bow, and a white cardigan. She was a vision with her hair pulled back from her face, excitement shining in her eyes, and a grin the size of Texas on her lips.

“You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she whispered bashfully as she glanced away. The winds of change were blowing around in the atmosphere; she sensed it, too. “Oh.” She clapped her hands and hurried over to the counter.

“No peeking at clue number one until your breakfast is done.”

“Are you planning on rhyming the entire time?” she asked as she grabbed a cheese cup.

“Sadly, I’m not that skilled in it. A lyricist I am not.”

“I thought for sure you’d hit me with an ‘I’m a poet, and you didn’t know it’.”

Shaking his head, he grabbed a Bearclaw, in an attempt to eat his nerves and play it cool. They polished off two pastries before she declared herself done and washed her hands at the sink.

“Okay, now gimme gimme,” she said, opening and closing her palm as energy vibrated off her in high frequencies.