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The roses stared back at Ryne, elegant and powerful. Petals splayed, graced by white wisps of baby’s breath to bring out their crimson glory. A light pink bow held the flowers together in the display vase. If she stared any harder, she could cut the glass case with her eyes alone. Was this the one, she wondered? Would this work? Were these flowers too dramatic? Or perhaps too simple?
“Are you planning on winning a staring contest with the roses?” A familiar voice asked behind her, making her yelp in surprise. “Sorry, Ryne. I know which one I have my money on.”
“I-it’s not what you think.” She shook her head with fervor to her father who was bent over to see what she was staring at so intensely.
“What is it that I think?” Thancred feigned ignorance and stood straight from his bent position and shifted his weight onto his right leg.
“I…” she paused, catching her breath again. “I don’t know which one is right.” Ryne’s lips tensed, unsure how to proceed.
“Right?” He gave a teasing, inquisitive look, urging her to continue. “Right, how?”
Thancred only meant well with his light teasing, she knew, but she was too nervous to speak.
“Our little lady intends to give rather than tend to the flowers,” Urianger said over the pages of the thick fantasy novel in his hands. Her other father sat in his wooden chair with crossed legs behind the register at the corner counter and tapped his foot with an unknown rhythm as he read. It was a slow day in their flower shop that day.
“I was hoping to hear it from Ryne, dear.” Thancred tilted his head with a knowing look to his husband.
“My sincerest apologies, dear. To you as well, Ryne,” Urianger apologized with an earnest nod. He looked up with a smile gracing his long face and his hand holding his chin. His narrow eyes looked just as playful as Thancred’s. “What ever is the occasion, I wonder?”
“Ryne,” Thancred switched his voice to a more serious tone, the one he uses when he teaches her how to use the register, or how to take in delivery invoices. “What do you do when a customer is unsure of what to buy?”
She blinked. Ryne expected a more invasive question right away. “Ask them questions about…” she turned to the pink lilies to her right. Of course, she thought, it was a trap to get her to talk. “You ask about the receiver,” she answered with a bowed head.
Urianger hit the print button on the receipt printer to roll out a small amount of paper to use as a bookmark and clapped his book closed around it. The sound was enough to bring Ryne’s attention back and away from her anxiety. With an experienced maneuver, he twisted around the counter and bowed with a flourish that made her smile. “Now, miss, how may we be of assistance?”
Ryne stood up straight, copying Thancred’s confidence with clenched hands. “It’s for Gaia,” she pushed out.
“And what is the occasion?” Thancred now asked in his customer service voice. “Is her birthday coming up?”
Thancred’s people skills had him on the floor more often than not when they had busier days when Urianger was in the back arranging flowers with Ryne, often selling people more flowers than they intended to buy with his silver tongue. His tones, shifts, and body language were well rehearsed and polished over the decade of owning the shop with his husband. While Urianger was always far better at the paperwork side of things and finances than he ever was, Thancred’s strength also came in handy for shipments and deliveries. Ryne sometimes felt out of place with such a balanced duo raising her, despite their assurances and affirmations.
“Not an occasion… I want to convey something to someone.”
“Are you unsure of the feeling, or the flower?” Urianger asked, tending to arrangements within the cooler, checking the thermostat.
“No! I mean – I’m unsure of the flower. Not the feeling… I think.”
Thancred rubbed the stubble on his chin with his hand. “And what is the feeling you think you have here, exactly?”
“Love.” The feeling leaped from her chest. “I want her to know how I really feel.”
The honesty stunned her fathers in their place. Urianger barely held the laser thermometer in his hand, nearly dropping it. Thancred’s hand remained on his chin, almost holding his newly dropped jaw in place. They had surely had their suspicions, to be sure, but it felt rude to make accusations outright. Ryne looked between the two of them, expecting a response.
“R-right. Well.” Thancred scruffed at the back of his head, looking to Urianger for help, who was already shifting his own attention back to the temperature log book with a smile on his face. He was on his own here. “Love,” he repeated and cleared his throat. Ryne began to worry and fret, combing through her long hair with her fingers, running her amber hair smooth.
“Ryne,” Urianger called her attention over as he recorded the temperatures with the scritch of a pen. “Did your father ever tell you how he confessed to me?”
“Uri, please! Surely she doesn’t want to hear about that!” Thancred covered his eyes with his hand.
She shook her head to Urianger, her hair ribbon swaying with her movement. “How?”
“It took but a single flower,” Urianger said with a nostalgic smile, looking past her into the memory. He put the pen back in its cup with the others. “And ‘twas not a rose.”
She looked to Thancred who was now covering his reddening face twisting in embarrassment with both hands. A rare sight for her confident father that could only be brought out from Urianger, but she held back the urge to laugh.
“Which one?” she pressed. If one flower was all it took, surely it was magical.
“One that does not fit this occasion, I think.” Urianger flicked his long silver hair from his eyes. “A black cosmos is not only not in season, but a bit too intimate for a young budding relationship such as this.”
Thancred sighed, regained his stature with another clear of his throat, and went behind the counter to thumb over the books on the shelf. “So Gaia doesn’t know, yes?” Thancred asked, furrowing his brows as he searched for the reference book he had in mind among the shelf.
Ryne thought for a moment and shook her head. She went to the counter with the movement of a ghost and leaned her elbows on the wood, cupping her chin in her palms. “No. I don’t think so. We already hang out so much and she’s done so much for me, it’s hard for me to tell. I don’t… I don’t want the feeling to be misconstrued.”
“Surely not,” Urianger responded, his gaze on his husband fussing over the shelves containing a mix of Urianger’s fantasy novels, guides, and catalogs. He tapped the spine of an older book without a word to Thancred. Ryne watched their exchange silently as her thoughts started to spin and turn.
The book’s simple look blended in with the others. Ryne recognized the guide book that taught her about flower language. Thancred patted Urianger on his back in silent thanks and they started talking lower as he flipped through the many pages, the conversation only caught by Ryne through nods and vague flower names and colors over the opened book. The word “gift” came up. Urianger’s eyes lit up and he thanked Thancred, reaching into one of the counter’s shelves for something small.
Ryne realized then that she had not really noticed just how in-sync her fathers were, or at the very least, given it as much thought. She had a flash of a daydream of her and Gaia making cookies together, laughing in a kitchen together, eating their hard work together. It took a shake of her head to release her from the clouds, but the question started to sink in. Could that be them if this went well? She wondered what she would do if Gaia did not feel the same, if they stopped even being friends. She held herself tightly and looked to her feet.
Her fathers paused their conversation, watching Ryne’s internal battle take hold of her. “Deep breaths, Ryne,” Thancred told her. “I know that look. Come, we’ll figure it out together. We have an idea.”
Urianger’s large hands flitted through the cards with the swiftness of a magician, a hobby he picked up with sleight-of-hand card tricks to pass the time. The deck was ornate and backed with an intricate gold design, the face of the cards themed with different flowers on every card. Thancred had gifted the deck to Urianger for some occasion in their life, though Ryne was not sure when.
She knew that the deck was intricately notched in places that only Urianger’s impressive memory and senses could pick up on. He removed cards from the deck almost at random and placed them in a small pile. As he shuffled the cards in his fingers he muttered whether the flower was certainly not appropriate for such an occasion, out of season, would not be available in such and such amount of time. Ryne leaned on the counter watching him, questioning the point.
“We shall consult fate itself,” Urianger suggested. “If nothing else, this will not only help judge your taste, but Gaia’s as well.” Urianger placed another three cards down with a shake of his head.
“And if that fails, with eliminating potential flowers that would work for the occasion, we can narrow down our choices and find the right flowers for the bouquet,” Thancred said, leaning on the wall behind Urianger. “Or was a bouquet also too cliché?”
Ryne bit her lip and pondered for a moment. “No, I think a bouquet would be fine. Maybe a dark vase to go with it, though?”
“The girl is fond of her darkness, isn’t she?” Thancred thought out loud. “Are you sure she wants flowers? Why not something like chocolates?”
Ryne shook her head. “We go out for chocolates and sweets all the time. I want her to know I’m serious!”
Thancred cocked his head to the side in deeper thought, ruffling his silver hair. Urianger separated the two decks of cards, one notably taller than the other. Ryne worried her options were within the larger deck before Urianger slid the shorter one towards her on the counter.
“Pray. Pick your card, madame,” Urianger insisted, holding his palms in the air. He gestured to the deck with cupped hands. “No tricks. Any card from this pile.”
Ryne shuffled the small stack of cards by instinct and pulled the middle card. The deck consisted of no more than fifteen cards.
Once more, a red rose with its thorny stem stared back at her with the seven of hearts surrounding its image and she frowned.
Urianger leaned on the counter to see the card. “Pray tell, what perturbs you so much about such a lovely flower?”
“It’s… It feels like what everyone gets.” Ryne paused to put her words together, thinking back to the store’s previous customers. “Roses are an easy answer with no thought to it. Even in another color, it seems like most of the people who buy them only get them last minute for their mother on Mother’s Day or to apologize to a girlfriend. Roses are fine if you don’t care about flowers, but I do. She knows I do…” Ryne withdrew again.
Thancred sighed, crossing his arms. “You really are our daughter,” he said with a smile. “Dramatic to a fault, hm?”
“With a penchant for grand symbolic gestures. Right, dear?” Urianger looked back at Thancred who shut his mouth tight. A teasing smile spread on Urianger’s lips at Thancred’s shrug.
“May I see the other cards now?” Ryne asked. Urianger gestured with a gentle hand to go ahead.
Ryne flipped the cards over and spread them on the counter. Thancred went over to the front door and flipped the OPEN card to indicate that they were, in fact, closed for the moment. It was a slow day, anyway, he said.
Fourteen cards remained in lines of seven atop the counter.
“Follow thine heart, and love will surely follow,” Urianger recited. Ryne recognized the line from a poem.
Ryne tapped her fingers on the counter, thinking about how each flower made her feel, about what she had told Gaia, about things she learned from working in the shop, or from her fathers discussing arrangements. It felt like a test, a moment to prove herself. She looked up and saw her fathers beaming back at her. They looked proud and it filled her heart with warmth.
She nodded, determined, and started to flip over each card with consideration.
Lilies were too formal, reminded her of funerals, and other cases were too intimate. Arums were turned over for a similar reason, though she recalled the blue variety being “great for girlfriends.” The word stuck in her throat as she turned it over. Tulips followed shortly after. Ryne noted that the petals were pretty in gardens, but for a bouquet, the petals fell if you breathed too hard on them.
Dahlias gave her pause, but their card was flipped with a comment that they did not imply the right feeling. She noted, however, that Gaia would appreciate them in a shade of purple for a future birthday. She felt a skip in her chest, thinking of the possibilities of the future.
Orchids and sweet peas got an audible no for their delicate nature, though Ryne was fond of them personally. Hyacinths sagged too much for Ryne’s liking, and the shades Gaia was fond of either did not speak well of the receiver, or were far too expensive to obtain. Thus, she flipped it over.
Azaleas reminded her of the time Gaia had asked if you could do something cruel with flowers and not even realize it, what with how many meanings and symbols there are. Ryne had informed her that you could send someone a death threat by sending azaleas within a black vase despite their positive meanings, turning the meanings on their head, in a way. When Gaia pressed for the meanings, Ryne had said that they are good for wishing success for someone, or showing a passion that’s developing, but fragile and pure. Gaia then laughed behind her hand and nodded, seeming to take in the information.
Ryne blushed and flipped the card over.
Thancred pushed off the wall to take a look over the remaining cards. He tapped the viola card. “These in white can imply an emerging love, happiness,” he suggested.
“I know, but they look better in gardens than in a vase or a bouquet.” Ryne spoke with her hand holding her chin in thought before realizing how harsh her comment sounded. “Ah – in my opinion.”
Thancred waved the worry away with his hand. “It’s your gift, Ryne. But does Gaia even know flower language?”
“It’s how I memorized what I know. She helped me study them and still asks me about meanings. I thought it would help with working in the shop,” Ryne answered without glancing up at him. With certainty, carnations and daisies were flipped without hesitation for they felt too childish to her.
“Great, another dramatic one to join the ranks…” Thancred muttered under his breath. He shook his head.
Ryne looked up at him, “Sorry, did you say something, Dad?”
“Nothing, dear.”
She looked back down at the last three cards and the fuchsias gave her pause. Though because of their nature for confiding love, they seemed more like a gift that she would enjoy. Urianger noted before that the flowers reminded him of her once for their fae association and light nature, with her name’s meaning coming from old fae-speak.
“The final two remain, hm?” Thancred noted with his arms crossed over the counter.
“Would these two look good together?” Ryne asked, looking at Urianger and then to Thancred. Urianger made note of red and pink holding lovely meaning behind them. She visualized it in her head. Tall lines of devoted lavender framing pink and red heartfelt hydrangeas expressing a calmness and expression of true feelings. She was certain Gaia liked the smell of lavender as well.
“Oh, certainly.” Urianger nodded. He slid the cards together carefully to not damage the edges and packed them in their box.
Ryne finished with the final touches of the ribbon around the dark vase. The red and pink hydrangeas burst from the vase with stalks of lavender poking around them. Her hands were still stained green from cutting the stems in places, and her white hoodie had stray petals and bits of lavender strewn on the sleeves. Thancred and Urianger both helped along the way, but as soon as Ryne had the vision of what she wanted, she sped through the shop and in the storage. Through years of making arrangements, she knew what she was doing and was once again in her element.
With a deep breath, she was done. Thancred patted the top of her head and lingered there, dangling the keys to the car that doubled as the family car and delivery vehicle with his other hand. Urianger smiled as he took the cellophane from the roll and wrapped her arrangement in front of her.
“Good luck, Ryne. The flowers look great.” Thancred nodded as he dropped the key fob in her open hands as she stared up at him, stunned. She usually only got the car for deliveries with supervision from Urianger or Thancred.
Ryne shook herself back to normal and smiled. With a sudden push, she hugged Thancred and he blinked down at her before giving a short laugh. “Thanks. Both of you,” she said into his chest.
Ryne rubbed her eye with the back of her hand and released him. She tugged her phone out from her hoodie pocket and started clicking her nails on the screen. With a deep breath with every pause to calm herself, she took an excruciating amount of time to type a message, erase it, type it again, erase half, and finally breathed a sigh of relief once she sent it. Thancred turned the sign in front of the shop to OPEN once more now that things were settling down, though they all had a feeling it would continue to be a slow day in the shop just arranging current orders. The phone pinged in Ryne’s nervous hands shortly after and she glowed, her smile wide, thumbing a quick response with no hesitation.
And then she was off in a blur. The two fathers heard her washing her hands with the sink in the back, running upstairs to grab her backpack, stomping down the stairs. She shoved herself into a hug for Urianger and thanked them once more as she sped to the back door holding the key fob with her finger and cradling the flower arrangement before they could even ask when she would return.
“She sure grew up, huh?” Thancred said quietly as the snug back door slammed as Ryne kicked it closed. He still needed to get that fixed. He blamed the cheap paint they used to paint it when Ryne was nine.
Thancred sighed, holding his forehead. In only a blink, Urianger was already at his side, slipping his right hand around Thancred’s waist from behind, holding him. Urianger tenderly took his husband’s ringed hand off his face with his own and kissed the back of it.
“You did well, love.” Urianger softly beamed seeing Thancred turn his expression away with slight embarrassment, his ego melted.
“Do you think Gaia will accept the flowers?” Thancred asked, changing his attention back to their daughter. He leaned onto Urianger’s chest instinctively, knowing Urianger would not release him. Urianger stared at nothing, recalling a memory, stroking his chin above Thancred’s head.
“Gaia had asked me a very peculiar question the other day. The time before last, I believe,” Urianger murmured. Thancred gave him a gesture to urge his story forward, remembering Gaia lingering in the shop when Ryne and him went upstairs to make dinner that day.
“She asked me what kind of flower would be best for Ryne,” Urianger continued, pausing to remember Gaia's exact wording. “As they have been dating for a while now, with all their outings and adventures, Gaia only thought it right to give her girlfriend a gift. She had said with Ryne’s background she did not feel right simply getting roses. The girl seems very fond of Ryne. I suggested some fuchsias and delivered the arrangement earlier this morning before Ryne came downstairs.”
Thancred processed the information in his head for some time, bobbing his head, and it hit him like a swing to the jaw. He released himself from the embrace and whirled around to look Urianger in the eyes. “Wait, hold on. Then that means…?”
Urianger folded his arms and nodded, his eyes closed. “‘T’would seem so.”
“And Ryne doesn’t…?” Thancred glanced at the door to the back and back to Urianger.
Another nod from Urianger with a shrug and drop of his shoulders. Thancred held the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb as a smile crept on his face. She truly was as clueless as her father at matters of the heart. All he could do was laugh and wish the girls well.