Another Delivery Day

“Brrring, Brrring” Annabelle dropped the knife in her hand and grabbed the phone, “Thank you for calling Agawam Flower Shop, how can I help you today?” I was thankful to have the extra hands to assist me at the shop, especially to answer the phone as mine were quickly placing the flowers Annabelle had cut into water tubes so the cross that Mr. Capuano ordered could be made.

The cross was the standard design Mr. Capuano sent for funeral services for his friends and clients. The 30” Styrofoam cross generally took eighteen stems of fugi or football mums to make the shape. One bloom per water tube inserted and aligned in the precut Styrofoam. After the fugi mums were in place, lemon leaf, or laurel, or whichever greens were available would be fresh cut and inserted directly into the sides of the cross to give it a wider form.

Babies Breath would be carefully inserted in little groupings between the greens and the mums. Wrapping each fluffy filler grouping in wire and attaching them to a wooden pick added another layer to the artistic design, as well as fill in areas to hide the mechanics.

Annabelle repeatedly said, “Yes Sir” into the phone as I pointed to the vase containing a rose behind her. She handed me the rose and continued to talk to the client on the phone.

This rose was placed in room temperature water last night, with a little extra floral nutrients added to force the rose to open more. It was now the perfect size to place in the middle of the cross, but first I needed to make the bow.

Annabelle repeated the order into the phone, “Yes, Sir that will be one dozen yellow roses designed in a vase sent to the address you will provide us with tomorrow. Yes, Sir, I have dated the order for Thursday, so it will be delivered then.” She rolled her eyes and smiled, “Yes, Sir, $116.95 will be the total including tax and delivery.”

“Yes Sir, Ok. We will see you tomorrow morning.”

My hands were busy moving 2” wide ribbon strands and looping them to make the white bow for the center of the cross. Over, under, long loop, two scissors cuts and a twist of a wire completed the task.

“What’s up with that order?” I asked placing the bow into the center of the cross and adjusting the long strands to cascade down the left side.

Annabelle said, “Mr. Who-wants-to-remain-anonymous, will be in tomorrow morning to drop off his own card, and pay cash.”

Over the years the shop has had its share of “anonymous” senders. Paying cash, and wanting their identity to be a surprise. We always try to get a phone number just in case there is a problem. There never has been but we worry.

I reached for the beautiful opened rose, snipped its long stem to 5” and inserted it into a water tube which I had already put babies breath into. I carefully placed it in the center of the ribbon and pushed the water pick into the foam.

“He didn’t give me a name or number so if he doesn’t come in tomorrow to pay, just toss the order.” She said, resuming her position of taking the knife and carefully sliding it down the stem of a rose to remove the thorns.

“We got yellow roses in today, so when you clean them, just mark them sold in the back cooler. If he comes in, we have them, and if he doesn’t, then I will use them in the Martin’s memorial service this weekend.”

Annabelle looked at me worried, “Will we have enough roses for the funeral if we do sell that dozen?”

“Oh yes, I don’t have to use yellow roses for the Mrs. Martin’s casket flowers, her husband requested summer bright colors, so if the yellow roses are sold, I can use the gerberas in place.”

The next day, a tall older man entered the store carrying a small box wrapped in tan packing paper. Attached to the box was an oversized Hallmark card taped several times securing both to each other.

Annabelle and I exchanged a look understanding who he might be.

“Hi. How can I help you?” Annabelle smiled at him.

He cleared his throat, “Hello, I called yesterday regarding an order of yellow roses for Thursday’s delivery.”

“Yes, it was me that spoke with you.” Annabelle looked at the package in his hand, “Did you want to include this with the delivery.”

“Would that be possible?” He asked.

“Of Course.” He handed Annabelle the package. The name Cora Wang with a Main Street address was printed large and legibly. “This is the address it needs to be delivered to.”

Annabelle smiled, “No problem. The deliveries leave at eleven, so she should receive it before noon on Thursday.”

He smiled and reached into his pocket, “That’s perfect. Thank you. How much do I owe you?”

“$116.25”

He handed her a one hundred dollar bill and three tens. “Keep the change as a tip.” He said and winked at her.

“Thank you Sir. May I have your name and phone number in case we have any issues with the delivery?”

He hesitated for a moment, then handed her a business card which was tucked in his billfold of twenties. “You can contact this number, but I would prefer if anyone asks who placed this order, my identity remain confidential.”

Annabelle took the beige colored card. Bold black letters read Jack Denver, Private Investigator with a long distance number in the bottom left corner.

Annabelle glanced my way then quickly returned a smile to the man, “Mr. Denver, I will only call if we have a problem with the delivery, if you don’t hear from me, then all went well.”

He nodded and headed out the door. “Thank you Miss…”

“Annabelle” she replied.

“Thank you Miss Annabelle, and just so you know, I am not Mr. Denver.” He winked again and left.

“What a mysterious man.” I said.

Annabelle moved his package to the back counter, smelling it as she walked.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I smell something. Maybe it’s just the paper, but it’s pretty funky.”

“Brrring, Brrring,” Anabelle left the packaged on the back counter and answered the phone, “Agawam Flower Shop, How may I be of service?”

As Annabelle took another order, our driver Tim entered carrying a brown bag, “Good morning ladies, I brought you fresh croissants from the bakery.”

Tim was always bringing in sweet treats for us. I showed him the funeral cross which Mr. Capuano ordered, and the other designs in the lower level cooler. He carried them up and gently secured them in the delivery van.

Annabelle covered the mouth piece on the phone, pointed to a vase of blue hydrangeas, white snap dragons, and white roses, “Tim, that order for Mulberry Street, needs to be there before 12:30, the lady will be leaving then for a doctor’s appointment.” Tim nodded and continued to load the van.

At the end of the day, Annabelle placed the package for Cora, next to the vase of yellow roses that I had designed and attached a note to the roses “Deliver with attached package.”

Thursday arrived, Annabelle called me and told me she was running late. Her car battery hadn’t started. “Take your time, everything is good right now. I am just finishing a last minute order for todays delivery.”

She interrupted me, “Mary, don’t forget to have Tim deliver that package with the yellow roses. I told the guy it would be there before 12.”

“Don’t worry, you put on a note on it, so it will be done. I’ll see you when you get here.” I was proud to have such a loyal employee who took such care in all the details.

Tim arrived, read the note on the roses, and asked “What’s in the package?”

“We don’t know. Annabelle took the order, and with instructions that the sender remain anonymous.”

Tim rolled his eyes, “Ugh, I hope this isn’t going to be a rejected delivery like last time we had a secret admirer.”

We both remembered that delivery well, the man wanted to send his wife flowers with no card, and when she got them, she couldn’t understand why there wasn’t a card. She ran after Tim in the driveway, “Excuse me sir, there is no card in this envelope. I don’t know who sent them.” Tim told her he didn’t know anything about that so he called me. I explained the sender instructed me not to identify him but did mention she would know who they were from.

When Tim told her that, she said, “Take them back, the asshole doesn’t even have the balls to apologize, he thinks the roses will do it for him. Well, fuck him.” She shoved the vase back into Tim’s hands. “Ma’am, I can’t take these back, they have been paid for.”

“Well, give them to your wife, because this wife doesn’t want his flowers anymore. The shit for brains knows I know he forgot our anniversary. He could have at least written an apology card.”

Tim didn’t know what to do. He brought them back to the store. The customer called the next day wondering why his wife never got the flowers, when I explained, he apologized and asked if he could drop off a card to have them redelivered.

When Tim redelivered it, he left it on the front porch without ever ringing the doorbell, he didn’t want another encounter.

“I’m ringing the bell and leaving them.” He said, as he carried out the yellow roses.

I gritted my teeth, “I don’t think you should, I don’t know what is in the package, and so I don’t want it unattended.”

Tim slumped his shoulders. “Fine, I’ll deliver it, but she better not toss them in my face.”

The house on Main Street was gorgeous, we all knew it well. It was the only all white brick house on Main Street. Tim stepped up the three stairs leading to the grand front door and pushed the doorbell button which was adorned with golden oval frame.

A girl in her mid-twenties opened the door dressed in workout clothes. Her curly brown hair bundled in a messy bun on top of her head. “Hello.” She said.

“Hi. Are you Cora Wang?”

She nodded, smiled with joy, and said, “Yes, I have been wondering when and how I would get this package.”

Tim handed her the vase of roses and the small brown wrapped package with the oversized card.

“These are gorgeous, my favorite color too.”

Tim smiled, “Well, someone knows you well.”

She smiled back and said, “Yes they do. Thank you.”

She closed the door, Tim returned to the shop empty handed and loaded up the van once again.

Annabelle had arrived and was on the phone taking another order. I was finishing a bouquet for the arrival of twins which needed to be delivered to the hospital before 2; another delivery day at the flower shop had begun.