Night of the Living Dandelion -11 by Kate Collins

Author:Kate Collins
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Penguin Group USA, Inc.
Published: 2011-01-26T22:00:00+00:00

“Good meeting?” Lottie asked, when I wheeled into the shop. She was standing behind the cash counter, filling out a phone order form. The coffee parlor had pretty much emptied out.

“That young nurse was quite lovely,” Grace said, coming out of the parlor.

They both smiled at me, hoping I’d share a tidbit of information with them. They didn’t know how much I wished I could. I missed our lively discussions. Instead, I pointed toward the curtain. “I’ll be in the back working on orders until Marco picks me up at noon.”

I rolled through the curtain and turned to find Grace behind me. “Abby, love, I believe I’ve found a place to hang your mum’s mobile.”

“Where?”

“Behind the new dieffenbachia.”

“Behind it? Won’t it be obvious to my mom that we’re hiding it?”

“Not if I shift the tree over a few feet before it’s time for Mum to arrive.”

“That’ll work.”

Grace started toward the curtain, then paused and turned back. “You do know that bloodletting could be considered exsanguinating, don’t you?”

Damn Grace’s supersonic hearing! “Yes, I do. But thank you anyway.”

When I didn’t say anything more, she said, “Well, then, I’ll just go hang that bat mobile.”

Said Batwoman to Girl Blunder.

I plucked an order from the spindle. It was for a table centerpiece for a thirty-fifth wedding anniversary celebration, so I pulled out my handy anniversary guide, which told me my theme colors should be in tones of coral and jade. The closest I had to true coral was orange-red roses. After that, I’d have to make do with orange lilies, Gerberas, and carnations, so I pulled a mix of all four, plus green carnations. For a base, I eyed the collection of containers stacked on top of the cabinets and realized I couldn’t reach any of them.

Frustrated, I decided to find a way. I wheeled over to the counter along the back wall, dragging a wooden stool with me, and then, balancing on my good foot, I climbed onto the stool, got onto the counter on my knees, and carefully raised myself up. Once I felt balanced, I stretched my hand as high as I could reach . . . only to miss the mark by several inches.

“Abby, good Lord!” Lottie exclaimed, rushing over. “Why didn’t you call me?”

I slumped down onto the counter. “I thought I could do it.”

“You can’t do everything you used to do, sweetie,” she said, helping me down.

“I hate being so dependent.”

“I’m sure you do, but sometimes you’ve just got to accept your limitations. Now tell me which vase you want.”

Accepting limitations was a skill I had never mastered. Five minutes later, however, I was back at the worktable, my supplies laid out in front of me, ready to bury myself quite contentedly in my new design. I started with a round glass vase, then fastened a flat glass plate onto the top so that it looked like a cake platter. I placed my wet foam in the center of the plate and used orange-colored sisal to cover the foam and add texture.

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