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Lilacs and Roses and Cupcakes, Oh my!
Henry looked at the bouquet in front of him before double checking his notes.
Bells of Ireland for luck, sprigs of Eucalyptus for protection, and Heliotropes for…color.
Henry’s ears burned as he looked at the final, bright purple flower. Heliotropes actually meant devoted affection, but he couldn’t tell Ana that. Not yet, anyway…
The bell to his shop jingled as the object of his affection stepped inside. Ana, the baker next door, smiled as she walked up to his counter to give him a bag of her leftover breads. She’d been doing that every afternoon since she opened her shop one year, three months, and seventeen days ago.
Not that he was counting.
“Hi, Ana!” he said brightly, reaching to the side and pulling three flowers at random from one of his florist pots. Since his face was still looking at Ana, and not what he was doing, he didn’t notice the water dripping off the end of the stems, onto the floor, and all over his shoes. Ana did, and her grin alerted him to the water now dripping onto the counter. Nervously he swept away some of the droplets that had landed there, but all it did was spread the water further.
He abandoned the effort and instead hurriedly shoved his handful of blooms into the arrangement. He could feel Ana watching him and his ears burned hotter as he grabbed a length of ribbon and tied a bow around the green stems. Once finished, he gawped at the final product.
Roses. Why did I pull roses?
Trying to recover his composure he cleared his throat and grabbed a loose cloth to wipe up the water. Ana deposited the bag onto the now dry counter—she had brought one loaf of rye bread and two pumpernickel muffins. The earthy scents of the dark breads wafted to his nose, and he breathed in reflexively. They combined well with the scent of leaves and dew that permeated his shop, and he felt his mouth water.
“They didn’t go for the dark breads again, eh?” he asked cheerily—probably too cheerily as he tried to hide the sound of his racing heart. “Well, their loss is my gain. I love your rye breads, Ana. Just a little bit of butter and they’re perfection.”
“You’re sweet, Henry. I’m glad you like them.”
Even Ana’s voice was as warm as the rolls she pulled from the oven each morning, and its pleasant tones made Henry melt like butter.
Ana wasn’t really a conventional beauty. She had short dark hair, a splash of freckles across her nose, glasses, and was curvy as her braided challah bread, but Henry thought she was sweet as pie with a slice of heaven. Her lips were as pink as a peony and her voice reminded him, for whatever reason, of sunflowers.
He’d been smitten with Ana since he’d walked next door to welcome her to Main Street. There had been something about the slight sheen of sweat on her face as she loaded a fresh tray of warm bagels into her display case that gave him butterflies, and he still remembered stuttering a little when he asked for her name. They ended up having a whole conversation about baking and small businesses. Ana had been so proud of opening her own shop and then—then he’d tasted one of her pastries—a free sample, she told him.
Then he knew he was a goner. Maybe it wasn’t quite love at first sight, but love at first bite, definitely. Only someone with a heart of gold could make something so delightful. What I wouldn’t give to have coffee with you every morning, he’d thought. And that was love.
On his side, anyway. Ana was friendly to everyone. It was, unfortunately, a one-way attraction.
Ana smiled at him, and his face warmed again as his thoughts returned to reality. He pulled the vase front and center before him. “These are for you, Ana. Good luck tomorrow with your 5k.”
“Aww! Henry!” Anna leaned against the counter as she looked over the bouquet. “Ooh. I like these green ones,” she said, pointing to some of the foliage. “Do these mean something?”
“Bells of Ireland. There for luck.” Henry said as he too leaned against the counter. Casually. Trying for casually. Hopefully casually.
“And these?” she asked as she pointed to the heliotropes.
“Also luck,” Henry lied. Henry had never been good at expressing his own feelings. When he heard there was a whole “language of flowers” in high school, he’d signed right up—it was part of why he’d become a florist. When he’d started crushing on Ana, he’d given her a bouquet of zinnias and honeysuckles, and on one of his more courageous days he’d even given her a book about floral meanings. He hoped she might be curious and decipher his feelings in a slightly less scary, less stressful, less standing-directly-in-front-of-her-while-he-confessed sort of way.
…Only, Ana couldn’t tell a thistle from a tritelia, and so she’d never picked up on his secret messages. It was helpful in moments like now, when he was too nervous to confess his devoted affection. Someday he’d tell her.
“And the roses?” Ana asked, rubbing the silky flower petals between two of her fingers.
“Well…every lady deserves a rose.” He scrambled out.
“Oh, you.” Ana said, batting his arm, though she blushed a little herself. “You’ll make some lady fall for you with that tongue, Henry. Sweet as honey, you are. Quite the catch.”
“Yeah. Hope so,” Henry admitted shyly. Ana stayed to chat a bit about their shops and her weekend plans before finally lifting her present, waving him goodbye, and exiting his shop.
Henry blew out a breath when Ana left and pulled open the drawer to his florist desk. In between the bits and bobs of wire and stem clippers, he had a calendar.
“Day 474 of not asking Ana out. Blast it, Henry. You’re going to have to be brave one of these days,” he muttered to himself. Closing the drawer, he sighed and turned back to his orders. Tomorrow would be another day.
*-*-*-*
Henry really thought he had a chance about a month later. The whole of Main Street was throwing a block party to help advertise local small businesses. The mayor blocked off the street to make way for booths, tables, and outdoor games. All the local vendors were throwing open their doors or setting up temporary shops to take advantage of the occasion. Several even rented a bounce house together, and the fire department built a haystack maze in the adjoining park.
Henry and Ana were working together since their shops were right next to each other. He hoped that maybe, if things went well, he could invite her to a celebratory dinner. He threw himself into decorating her shop for the occasion and thinking of ideas to highlight their combined talents.
Ana made her usual best sellers—bagels, croissants, and French breads—but also added a variety of lavender based desserts. She also cleverly twisted her rolls into a rose pattern, and her cakes and cookies all bore a floral frosting motif. She also placed a stack of his business cards by the register, right next to a truly beautiful display of wedding, baby shower, and graduation cakes decorated with real flowers from his shop.
He, meanwhile, was hosting a four-leaf clover contest. Adults who found the four-leaf clover would receive a free carnation or could enter a lottery for two dozen long stem roses. It was wildly popular, and he was selling other flowers left and right as people perused the shop.
He also had a children’s version. Their clovers were plastic and multicolored, and he’d painted the four-leaf clover just a little bit differently than the others to give the kids an edge. Since that puzzle was for kids eight and under, he figured no one would complain. Children who found the clover got a free cookie from Ana’s shop. She’d even made gluten free and dietetic versions in case anyone had sensitivities. He kept a stack of her business cards by the prizes as well.
Things were going well until a passerby who’d obviously indulged a little too much at Terry’s Township Tavern stumbled over to play the game.
“I wanna play that one,” the man slurred, pointing to the children’s version.
“I’m sorry sir,” Henry said pleasantly. “That one is for the children. I do however have a clover game for adults if you’d like. It’s pretty simple: just pick a clover patch from the counter,” he gestured to four different tins of mini clover fields, “and find the four-leaf clover before the time runs out.” He wiggled a small hourglass that he used to keep track.
“I don’t want that one. I want this one, and the clover’s…there.” He pointed to the plastic four-leaf clover in the children’s puzzle.
“Well done, sir! But again, that game is for children. If you would like to play the adult version, which you may find a bit more fun given the greater challenge, you are welcome to try it! I would be happy to award you a cookie instead of the flower, if you prefer, and you can try as many times as you like until you find the clover.”
“I already found the clover though. Give me my prize.”
He gulped as the man cracked his knuckles. Henry didn’t really want to get into a fight. First, if he were honest, he wasn’t sure a beanpole like himself could take this guy. Second, that wasn’t the type of advertisement he wanted for his shop, and definitely not something he wanted to do in front of Ana’s shop. She’d worked so hard to grow her business and a fight was sure to scare people away.
If it weren’t for the litany of people behind him who would almost certainly demand to play the child’s version themselves, he would just give the man a cookie and be done with it. But that would mean he’d lose out on sales from people browsing while they waited, and honestly, this aggressive man would probably create more problems for other shop owners. That wasn’t right. Business came in ebbs and flows, and they needed to do well today.
So, Henry did the next best thing he could think of: he poked his head out his shop to look for someone with security. Surely, they could escort the gentleman to a cab. He also made a mental note to follow up with Terry later. There were kids here. They couldn’t risk an irritable drunkard causing trouble.
“Oi! I’m talking to you!” the man shouted when Henry took too long to respond. A sudden push from behind propelled him onto the sidewalk. Before he knew what was going on, the stranger had drawn himself up to his full height and grabbed Henry by his shirt. He pulled Henry by his chest while several nearby observers gasped.
This is so not what I wanted! Henry’s mind reeled as he tried to think of what to do now. He’d never been good in stressful situations. What on earth was he to do now?
“HEY!” came a heated voice to his side.
Both Henry and the stranger turned at the sound—just in time for Ana to shove one of her beautiful banana cream pies into the man’s face.
In his surprise, the man released Henry and stumbled backward. Lifting his massive paws to his face, he used his fingers to wipe gobs of whipped cream and banana pudding from his eyes. Sputtering, he shouted and pointed aggressively at Ana.
Ana, who apparently was good with stressful situations, disappeared into her shop. She returned a minute later with an enormous pan filled with airy cupcakes.
“New game, kids!” Ana shouted. “Cupcake wars! Your target is that man. Prize is a coupon for a whole batch of cookies. Ready—fire!”
“Ana, no!” Henry shouted, but his objection was overwhelmed by the joyful screeching of the nearby children. A bevy of kids converged on Ana’s cupcake pan, shouting with chaotic, demonic glee at her invitation. In seconds all the cupcakes were gone, and the man shrieked as he was literally chased down the street by a horde of ecstatic children pelting him with cupcakes. Some of the wilder kids even bent down to re-use the cupcakes that had remained intact after bouncing off the man’s form. The stranger couldn’t escape the sugary ammunition: soon he was a walking pastel Seurat, dotted with the lilac and raspberry pinks of Ana’s frosting and the browns and yellows of the cake. Conveniently, block security neither saw nor heard his pleas for assistance.
Henry was devastated that Ana had given up what would have netted her a significant profit today, but Ana looked incredibly pleased. She gave him a smile and squeezed his shoulder before returning to her shop.
Both of them sold out of their shop inventory that day, and they never made as much money as they did the rest of that quarter. Henry gave Ana a poplar tree not long after. Courage, he’d told her when she asked about the blooms. A thanks for sticking up for him in the fight.
And a reminder, he told himself, to confess how much I adore you.
*-*-*-*
Winter had come now, and Henry and Ana were in her bakery after hours finishing up Christmas cakes for her final deliveries. Their wedding cake side hustle had become so popular Ana had expanded her bakery. Her new assistant made all the cookies and rolls, and Ana shifted to focus on the cake design side of her business. She was exceptionally popular, and things were really taking off. Henry was so pleased for her.
Her new business model meant she had less time to visit Henry’s shop, which was sad, but it did mean she had an increased need for fresh flowers. Ana had insisted on using Henry’s shop for all her blooms, adamant that he was integral to her successful marketing at the block party. Henry was certain her success had come from the article about her creative “community engagement” technique, but he wasn’t about to turn down anything that gave him more time with Ana.
Thus, he found himself arranging a variety of roses and gardenias on a yule log cake while Ana hummed along to Christmas carols in the background. He’d filled her shop with evergreen boughs and poinsettias, and Ana had crafted a fake fireplace against one of the walls. She’d even put up a stocking just for him. It was right beside hers…and her employee’s.
He was trying not to read too much into it.
Ana took a break from her own cake to deposit a cup of hot cocoa and gingerbread cookies beside him. He’d offered to finish up and lock up the shop for her—his flowers were usually the final touch on her creations, and he’d done so several times before—but she’d declined. She liked to watch him work, she’d said. He was pleased but also nervous. Every time her eyes went to his hands, he felt the blush creep back into his ears. He hoped he wasn’t as red as the Santa cookies displayed in her window.
“It’s almost Christmas,” Ana prompted, and he turned to her. His mouth had gone dry with the turn of his thoughts, so he sipped from his cocoa before answering her.
“Yes. It is.” He responded. He wanted to say more but his mind had gone blank. “Got any plans this year, Ana? Visiting family?”
Ana shrugged. “I’m going home for a party, but we celebrate more on Christmas Eve than Christmas. How about you?”
Henry shrugged too. “Most of my family is out of state so I don’t see them much, but we do get together for Christmas sometimes. I should see what the plans are for this year.”
“You should!” Ana said brightly. “If you don’t have anything with your family, you’re welcome to come and meet mine.”
Henry chuckled as he pushed in the final flower and secured it in place with a hidden dob of white chocolate. He used some of Ana’s cooling spray to make sure it stayed perfectly in place. Stepping back, he analyzed his work. It looked complete.
“Maybe I will,” he said, figuring Ana was joking. Surprisingly, she brightened at his words. He turned to look at her more fully. “You seem pleased. Don’t like seeing the family by yourself?”
“No, I love my family, but if you are coming, that means you have to bring a housewarming gift, and I’m going to lobby heavily that you bring a pan of your homemade manicotti.”
“Manicotti to a Christmas dinner?”
“It’s red and green! Or at least, it is if you put the parsley in it.” Ana protested. She seemed so invested it made him laugh.
“Basil, Ana. Basil is what I put on top of it, though there is some parsley, so I guess you’re partially right.”
Ana blushed and fingered the edge of a table. She looked out the window at the falling snow and bit her lip, thinking. The sight was endearing, but also distracting, so Henry forced himself back to his flower selection. He lifted the blooms needed for the next cake in Ana’s collection.
“Actually, Henry…why don’t we take a break? I think Santa left something for you under the tree over there.”
Henry glanced up at Ana again before looking at the artificial Christmas tree beside the fake fireplace. There were several boxes on the floor, complete with bows and nametags.
Henry’s face flushed. “It’s still a week to Christmas, Ana. I don’t have your gift on me.”
“Ooh, but I have a gift?” Ana perked up, and Henry’s face grew hotter.
“Maybe.”
He’d gotten Ana two gifts, really. One was just friendly—a new sign for in her shop. The other was a necklace with an agapanthus pendant…and a literal love letter to accompany it. It had taken him forever to find the necklace and he’d nearly had a heart attack writing the letter. He didn’t know how he would give it to her. He was dizzy with nerves just thinking about it.
“Give it to me later,” Ana said, wholly unaware of his internal panic. She, in contrast, was practically bouncing with eagerness. “But you can open yours now.”
“But—”
“Henry.” Ana gave him a particular look with the hint of a frown. It was her fake-stern face, he’d learned, which meant she wasn’t angry but did really want him to do something. He made his way over to the tree.
He slid out several boxes with his name on them before looking up at her. “You didn’t need to give me so many,” he objected, but she only grinned.
“Open them!” she told him happily, and he lifted the first gift to one of her tables.
“It’s quite heavy, Ana,” he observed. “Is this one of your fabled fruitcakes?” he teased, dodging as she swatted at his arm.
Opening the box, he quirked an eyebrow as he saw…flour. Cake flour.
Ana just grinned at him as he moved to the next gift. All-purpose flour.
Then the next one. Garbanzo flour. Rice flour. Gluten-free flour. By the time he was done, he had half a dozen sacks of flour stacked around him.
“They’re all very interesting, Ana, but I think your elves might have been confused,” he joked.
Turning around he saw Ana, standing behind him with a heart shaped cookie in her hands.
“I know it’s not Valentine’s Day,” she admitted shyly, “but I was hoping ‘be mine’ could still be seasonal…see? I added snowflakes.” She pointed to where she’d decorated the cookie.
Henry just stood stock-still, stunned.
Ana’s voice wobbled nervously as she blushed herself. “I’m not any good with the floral stuff, Henry, but I do know the language of flours, so…cookie.”
Her face was fully red now, and Henry, heart overflowing, floundered. Ana continued “We seem to get along really well, and I’d like to take you to dinner sometime…if you’ll have me.”
Henry struggled to speak, though he desperately wanted to. Come on, brain! Work! Say something!
“Anyway…” Ana hesitated. “You okay, Henry? What do you think about all this?”
Finally, Henry flushed. His ears burned as he shyly took Ana’s hands.
“I have a confession myself, Ana…” he admitted, his own face red. He pointed toward the ceiling as Ana raised a brow. A sprig of green with berries was suspended over the fireplace.
He’d hung it earlier, just in case.
“Is that Mistletoe?” Ana asked.
“You can be taught!” Henry cheered, wrapping his arms around her. Ana blushed and beamed as Henry touched their foreheads, then noses together, holding her tightly.
Her arms slid behind him as the remaining distance between them closed. “I’m glad I got this one right.”