CHAPTER 002

Grace’s Point of View

"Hello, I am Grace," she said in a low voice, her voice even though her chest tightened. Mr. Vincent pulled his eyebrows in and looked at the papers in his hands. I am sorry, can you repeat that?“

I am Grace, from Flower Fetish.” She smiled and gave the printed confirmation. His eyes opened. “Ah, yes. The flowers.

”He slipped the papers under his arm and nodded to her. Would you help us in decoration as well? We are running short on time. ”Grace hesitated. “Well, we only came to deliver ”Blaise came up before she could complete and pulled her aside. She bent near and spoke in a panic. “What are you saying?

”Grace blinked. We did not come here to decorate; we came here to drop the flowers.“ They need our help, Grace. Look around.” Blaise indicated the big hall with its high roof and the bare tables waiting to be prepared. Will we ever again have such an opportunity? Grace let out a quiet sigh.

“Blaise…”“Come on. We should have fun here as long as we can. Blaise winked. We shall be glad to do so, Mr. Vincent. He pointed to the long hall, and the girls trailed him. We only need to know where to begin.

They started to work very fast, filling vases with white tulips, roses, and lilies. The candles on the aisle were tossing over the white flowers, and their fires were playing in the air. "Beautiful," said she to herself. Grace stood still and looked at the image of the flowers in the glass table, and something ached in her chest.

She recalled what her father had said to her: Blossom where thou art planted. I suppose Mr. Vincent will be glad. Peonies were twisted through rings of silver and hung round the tables like halos. Grace’s heart swelled. Mr. Vincent shook his head in a thin smile.

Her lips curved into a smile. “Perfect,” she murmured. Blaise passed by and patted her. “We really did well, Grace. It looks perfect. This is a thousand more than we had settled on. “I hope so.” Grace swept her eyes over the hall. This has to be a special night for somebody.“ Miss Grace. Miss Blaise.

”They looked round and saw Mr. Vincent with a folded scrap of paper. “Here is your check.

” Grace stretched out, and her eyes opened as she beheld the number written across it. “Sir, there must be a mistake. Grace looked at her, with her eyebrows drawn up. She attempted to give the check back.

The flowers were fresh, and you had done more than your part in decorating.” No mistake. My employer is happy with your work. Blaise applauded her and broke in. “But—” Grace began.

She grabbed the check in her two hands before Grace could object. “Thank you, sir. We do like this very much, indeed we do. Mr. Vincent passed away smiling, and his voice became hard. "Not charity," Blaise said. “We cannot just—”I would like to thank him personally, Grace said. Consider it as respect for our work. Nevertheless, the chest of Grace tightened. She despised the thought of being given some extra money that she had not worked hard to get.“ Could I meet your employer? Grace pointed to the candles and chandeliers.

Grace blew a kiss and sighed. “No. He never sees anybody without an appointment. Grace bit her lip but nodded. "She must have been special," Blaise said to himself, whoever she was. The flowers, the decorations…”Mr. Vincent threw back his head, and his face was inscrutable. “Occasion?”

“Yes.” "No wonder you wish to conceal," Grace said. “All of this.” His voice remained flat. “There is no celebration. My employer lost a loved one. These are memorial flowers. The smile of Grace faltered, and guilt ached in her throat. She looked away. “I am sorry.” She gave Blaise a warning look, and she was silently telling her not to go any farther.

The cool evening air was touching their skin as they walked back to the trucks." I am sorry about him," Grace said to herself. Grace bent and took them up. “Maybe his wife.” “Could be.” "No, I was not," I said, and I pushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “Well, I am starving.”

Blaise put her arm through the arm of Grace. “Let’s eat. ”Grace chuckled faintly. “Me too. Grace, alone, went to the fountain in the center of the courtyard. “Five minutes.” Blaise ran to the parking lot to get the truck. Blaise was making fun, and his eyes were shiny. The dying light gave a warm glow to the marble statue.

She leant her head, examining the sculpted form of the woman, face concealed by draped cloth. He looked at her and was still puzzled and laughed. “Sometimes I want to hide too. I wish I could vanish out of all. Her voice wavered. I would like to be such flowers... to spread love rather than this sadness.

A tear slipped down her cheek. She swept it off, ashamed of her own weakness, and turned—right into the breast of someone. “Oh!” She stumbled back. “I… I am so sorry. I did not see you. ”Roses on the ground between them. "Not tonight," said Blaise firmly.

I am sorry; I ought to have been listening. She looked up. Her breath caught. It was he—the gardener she had seen before.

“You again.” She forced a small smile. “I could say the same.” His lips curved faintly. Grace’s cheeks warmed. Did you hear me just now? Were you? “Talking to yourself?” His eyebrow arched. “No. He picked one of his bunch of roses that was new and handed it to her. “Finished your work?” he asked.

She nodded and looked at the roses in her hand. A sharp sting made her gasp. “Ouch. ” She had a thorn in her finger. Blood welled up. Elijah walked forward with an inconsiderate smile. “Here, let me—”Grace hastily drew her finger to her lips. “It is fine.”

"I ought to have clipped those thorns," he said to himself. Grace shook her head, smiling a little, pained. “It is not your fault. Thorns teach us that there is a price to roses. They hurt us sometimes, so we listen.

He studied her words, puzzled. She stooped to take the last rose, and he stretched out to it. Their hands brushed. He was a long, thin-bodied man with curls on his forehead.

Grace breathed and raised the rose to her nose. You have to pay the price to get something valuable. She walked away with the bloom in her hand. You are overthinking a florist. As they came to the house, Blaise Grace stood at the door. Grace blinked. “What is this for?” “Nothing. Just a rose. You are a florist. I am a gardener.

That is reason enough, isn’t it? ”Her lips tugged upward. She accepted the rose gently. “Thank you. ”They sat down to supper, and there was no talk. Blaise was at the truck, talking on the phone. “What was that?” He smiled and threw his bowl of cereal. You had been talking to him for some time. He is handsome. ”Grace rolled her eyes. “He is just a gardener.”

“Even better.” Blaise tsked. I thought for a moment that Mr. Vincent was the owner of this mansion. Clearly not. ”Grace laughed softly. “Stop. We need to go. I have to cook for my family. ”Mike had hit her on the cheek, which was tender. “We worked hard. You are coming to my house. ”Grace shook her head quickly. “No. Your brother—”“He likes you. So what? I would be delighted to see you, his girlfriend.

Blaise winked. Grace’s cheeks burned. “Shut up.” Blaise grinned. “Do not worry. Mum and Dad are away at Grandma's, and Elijah is away. It will just be us. ”Grace hesitated. “Fine. But pizza. With extra toppings.” “Deal.” Blaise clapped her hands.

Later Blaise pressed the check into her palm. The candlelight fluttered over the dining table. She turned, glaring. “You lied.

”Blaise winced. “I am sorry. He insisted. ”His apron was full of flour, and he had his spatula in his hand. “Hello, Grace.” Grace swallowed. “Hello, Elijah.” "You are an ass in that apron, brother, you are," Blaise teased. Blaise was just on the point of replying when a voice in the doorway broke in.

“How was work?” he asked. Grace shifted on her feet. “Busy.” “Go freshen up. "Dinner is ready," said he, in a warm voice. We have to tell you about the farm and this shop.

Grace nodded, and her stomach was gnashing with worry. Grace barely tasted the food. She was already thinking of the check in her bag—the one that would give them time with the bank. "It will be all right," Blaise whispered and embraced her. “This will help. Hold on to it. ”We must speak to you of the farm and this shop. “I hope so. ”Blaise was just going to reply when a voice in the doorway intruded.

The following morning Grace frantically searched her things. “What the hell… where is it?” Her voice shook. The check was gone. Her heart raced. She ripped her drawers, her bag, and the kitchen. Nothing. She stumbled downstairs. “Mike! ”Her stepmother wheeled about. “Why are you shouting at my son?” Grace’s voice cracked. “I had a check. I needed it for the bank.

Please… ask him if he saw it. ”Her stepmother squinted and then stared at Mike . Blaise pulled her into his arms, and Grace cried on his shoulder. Now you are accusing me of stealing?Grace’s lips trembled. She grabbed him in desperation. “Mike, please.

It is for Dad’s farm. His shop. I am not accusing you; I am pleading with you. He shoved her aside, growling. “Get lost.

”The body of Grace trembled, and the tears rolled down her face. She knew, but she could not prove it. She sat in her truck outside the shop later, holding the wheel. Blaise pulled her into his arms, and Grace cried on his shoulder.

We must speak to you of the farm and this shop. Blaise pulled her into his arms, and Grace cried against him. Blaise came to the window, in alarm. “Grace, what happened? What is wrong?

”Grace shook her head. “I lost the check. It was Mike. I do not know how to prove it, but he stole it. I do not know what to do. ”Blaise was just going to reply when a voice in the doorway interrupted.“How am I going to save the farm? The shop?” The words of Grace ran in tears.

There is something we have to tell you about the farm and this shop. “Miss Grace Romero?” Grace turned quickly. Two men in suits stood there. “Yes?” “We are from Golden Bank. We must speak to you of the farm and this shop. Grace’s stomach dropped. Her knees weakened. “How much time do I have?

”One of the men gave her a paper. “One week. ”She looked at the words with blurred eyes. The paper fell in her hands. One week. Her voice trembled. “What happens if I cannot pay?”

The response of the man sliced through her like ice. What will they steal of her when she cannot find a way?