For Whom the Bluebell Tolls (4 page)

Suzy’s eyebrows rose as she looked at the flower as if for the first time. It was a lovely variety, almost pure white with just a ring of pink around the outside.

“In keeping with the theme”—I pointed to the green flowers—“I also added some bells of Ireland, to wish the happy couple the best of luck. And calla lilies, which, when inverted, look a little like bells. And which I see in the bride’s earrings.”

“Oh,” Suzy gasped.

Gary leaned over and held her hair back while the camera zoomed in on her earring and then on the flower.

“Calla lilies mean
magnificent beauty
,” I added. “Instead of adding more traditional filler, I used lily of the valley, which also resemble small bells. Kate Middleton had them in her bouquet, and they carry a number of meanings. My favorite is
happiness restored
.”

“What else can they mean?” All challenge had drained out of Suzy’s voice. She was in wonder of her bell-shaped flowers and their meanings.

“
Purity of heart
,
humility
, and
chastity
.”

Suzy snorted. I suspected chastity wasn’t high on her list.

“Nice sentiments,” Gary said.

“And I’ve set them in a larger reproduction of an antique silver tussy mussy holder. Very Victorian, and you can see the little wedding bells embossed in the metal.” Suzy was enraptured, and I then showed how the bouquet could stand upright on its own or be removed from its stand for that walk down the aisle.

“Now the next bouquet is a little more modern in design?” Gary said.

“Absolutely. My business partner, Olivia Rose, made this one.” I pulled the cover from her bouquet. Too late I realized I’d used Liv’s maiden name, which she still used in business, so I hoped she’d be okay with that.

“Tell me about this one,” Suzy said.

I described the clean design of cascading white calla lilies, with just a little bit of eucalyptus for greenery, hand-tied in a white satin ribbon and secured with little bell-shaped pins.

“Now what does the eucalyptus mean?” Suzy asked. “It smells a little like cough drops.”

“It’s wishing you health, actually.
Protection
and
healing
.”

“And the white calla lilies mean
happiness restored
,” Gary said.

“No, actually they mean
magnificent beauty
,” I said, “but it’s easy to get them confused.”

“Cut!” Gary yelled. “Can we take it back?” He cleared his throat and waited until the red lights came on. Smooth as silk, he went on, “And the white calla lilies mean
magnificent beauty
.”

“That’s right. Good memory.” I got it. Don’t embarrass the host. I could play along.

“Very clean. Quite modern,” he said. “I can’t wait to see what else you brought.”

I lifted the covering for Shelby’s design.

Suzy gasped.

“We were going for something a little out of the box. This was constructed by one of our new young designers, Shelby Frazier. The construction is curled and wired lily grass, which he’s used to make an elaborate three-foot cascade. He then embellished that with gorgeous variegated foxglove, so that the flowers start out small at the top, and at the bottom, there’s a symphony of bell-shaped blooms. They really look like bells, don’t they?” I asked.

“Oh, they do!” This was clearly the bride’s pick.

“And a surprise.” I picked up the bouquet and shook it gently. The jingle bells Shelby had wired into some of the flowers made their signature chime.

The bride squealed and clapped her hands. “And what do those flowers mean?”

“I’m not sure lily grass has a meaning of its own, but lilies generally mean
beauty
and grass is a symbol of . . .
submission
. You know, the whole love, honor, and obey thing. Right?” I cemented my smile and hoped they’d drop it there. Gary had assured me we’d only talk about the language of flowers for the Victorian bouquet, and yet he’d started carrying that forward into all of them. I hoped and sent up a quick, fervent prayer that they wouldn’t ask what the foxglove meant.

As if on cue, Gary and Suzy both said, “So what does the foxglove mean?”

So much for the power of prayer. “Well, of course this flower was chosen primarily for its shape.” I paused, hoping that would satisfy them.

They stared, waiting for me to fill in the blanks.

“
Insincerity
.”

Silence reigned on the set for about thirty seconds until the cameraman snorted.

“Cut!” Tristan yelled.

“No, keep it rolling,” Gary said.

Suzy became livid. “Why in the world would you put such a flower in a bridal bouquet? Insincerity? What are you trying to imply?”

“I . . . I was under the impression that we were only going to use the language of flowers for the Victorian-inspired bouquet. The others were constructed simply for their beauty and your bell theme.” I resisted the urge to say “corny bell theme.”

“What made you think we wouldn’t ask?” Gary asked in that voice sweet as molasses. Grandma Mae would have said “butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth,” but butter is oily just the same.

Two could play at that game. I put on my sweet voice. “Well, Gary, had you yourself not informed me that you didn’t ‘want to get bogged down with that jazz,’ as you put it, I would have been happy to make sure all the flowers had positive floriography—”

“So this is your fault?” Suzy turned on Gary. “I spent hours filling in those stupid questionnaires and then more hours with you drilling me about my whole life. You should know what I like by now.”

“Trust me, Suzy, it’s for your own good.” He took her shoulders in an attempt to soothe her.

She jerked away.

“Now look.” He turned to me. “I should fire you for what you did . . .”

“What I did? But you did say—”

Gary’s scowl stopped me dead in my tracks. This dude was seriously bipolar. Then Liv’s voice chimed in my ear: “The customer is always right.” Not that she was there, but it was as if she were sitting on my shoulder, like the good angels in the old cartoons. Or like Jiminy Cricket.

“I’m sorry.” But the thought of Liv in green makeup and dressed as a cricket made me smile. Fatal mistake.

“You think being fired is funny?” Gary’s cheeks turned red, and his bulging eyes made him appear apoplectic. “I’d find another florist right now if we weren’t so far behind schedule. I’m going to do you a favor and we’ll finish up the interview, nice and pretty. But don’t think you’re going to be on
Fix My Wedding
again. And no exposés, either. I have enough friends in the wedding industry to ruin you, and don’t think I can’t. You can expect a more immediate financial hit when we charge you for the taping delay.”

“But, Gary.” Brad stepped forward. “All she did was—”

“Oh, so the glorified gofer is standing up for her, is he? Are you going to be the big man and protect her? It’s because of you that I hired her in the first place. I don’t know why I took the word of such a washout. I must have been out of my mind.”

And if he wasn’t then, he was now. Of course I didn’t say it. But I did think it.

Gary advanced on Brad. “She’s not the only one who should be in fear of her career. There’s going to be some staffing changes around here in the near future. Who knows? Maybe you’ll be one of them.”

Tristan stepped between them. Brave man. “Hey, how about we break for a few minutes, huh? Get our heads on straight and finish up that last bit. It was going great until that point.”

“No, let’s finish now, starting at the last bouquet. And you”—Gary pointed at Suzy—“don’t ask what the foxglove means.”

“Now, wait a minute,” Max began, but Gary stared him down.

Suzy nodded, using a finger to sweep upward on her tears so she wouldn’t smudge her mascara. We then restaged the reveal of the final bouquet, talking about its shape and flowers without the meanings, and with little enthusiasm.

“How’d it look?” Gary asked.

“A little stiff,” Tristan said, “but maybe we can intermingle some of the facial expressions from the first go-around.”

“Do what you want.” Gary turned back to me. “I’ll send my
gofer
”—he glared at Brad—“to let you know which, if
any
, of the designs I deem acceptable.” Then he stormed off.

I let out the breath I was holding and heard others do the same.

“Is he always like that?” I asked no one in particular.

“It’s the weirdest thing,” Suzy said. “Sometimes he’s sweet as pie. When we were doing the original interviews, he seemed so nice, like he was really interested in me. Well, not in that way, since he’s . . . you know. And on camera he’s, well, Gary.”

As Suzy walked back to the inn in the consoling arms of Daddykins, Brad joined me behind the flowers. “Something seems to be bothering him. And I’m sorry you had to go through that.” He put his arm around my shoulder. “If I knew he’d be on edge like that, I never would have recommended you for the show. I thought I was doing something nice.”

“Oh, you were. It’s not your fault Gary’s bipolar.” Talk about insincerity. “Do you think he really means to fire you?”

Brad offered a half smile in response. “Probably just blowing off steam. I wouldn’t worry about it. But at least the taping part of your responsibility is over. And the flowers for the reception are okayed by Gigi, so you’ll mostly be dealing with her now.”

“And here I always thought Gary was the nice one,” I said.

“Not this week,” Brad added.

*   *   *

“He said that to you?” Liv was livid, pacing the back room after I recounted my story.

Shelby shook his head. “He seems so different on television.”

“Oh, Shelby.” My heart was broken for my friend and coworker. “I’m sorry so much of the drama centered around your design. It really was spectacular and deserved better than that. He still might choose it. The bride was entranced the moment she saw it. Maybe I should have—”

“It’s not your fault,” Amber Lee said. “We all were right here when he told you not to mess with the meanings of the flowers for the other bouquets.”

“And maybe I should have used something else.” Shelby scrubbed his face. “But that foxglove was gorgeous, you have to admit.”

“Very,” I assured him. “That design could have been featured in any bridal magazine in the country.”

“So now we sit and cool our heels until he decides to tell us which design he picked?” Amber Lee leaned against the worktable.

“He’s supposed to send Brad,” I said, “who’s getting the raw end of the deal, too. Gary demoted him from potential associate producer all the way back to gofer in one fell swoop.”

“Not quite the dream job he left Ramble for, is it?” Liv said.

As I paused to consider this, I could hear a bell in the distance. “What’s that?”

“Don’t go changing the subject,” Amber Lee said. “Seems to me that you’ve been seeing a bit of Brad since he got home. And with Nick around, that’s bound to be trouble.”

“Don’t you hear that bell?” I paused a moment to listen. “Something’s going on.”

“Sounds like the one at old First Baptist,” Shelby said.

“Maybe they’re filming something for the show,” Liv suggested.

“No.” I shook my head. “I saw the filming schedule. Everything was over at the Ashbury today.”

I walked through the shop and out the front door to the sidewalk. Liv and Amber Lee followed me. Other townspeople had also stopped what they were doing and left the shops and restaurants. Soon, half the population was lining the sidewalk. We stared down the street toward the historic stone church.

A black Range Rover was parked out front. Maybe they were filming after all. Or checking out the bell in the church prior to filming.

But soon sirens joined the pealing of the bell, and a Ramble police car sped down Main Street.

I started running toward the church.

“Audrey, wait!”

I glanced around to see a pregnant Liv trying to keep up. “No, stay at the shop. I’ll let you know what I find out.”

Without turning again, I sprinted around the rubbernecking citizens and arrived at the church just as the police were going in. I stood hunched over, my hands on my thighs, as I tried to regain my breath, then stared at the building. The Range Rover and a police car with its gum ball lights still flashing were parked out front. The Range Rover was the same car Brad had used to take me to his mother’s house. Was it just last night? Did that mean Brad was inside? What was wrong?

I tried to run through the front door, but Ken Lafferty stepped outside and warned me to stay back.

While we stood waiting, more officers arrived and sped inside. What seemed like hours later, one of them led Brad from the building. Thank God he was alive. Even from yards away, he seemed dazed, and his eyes weren’t focused on his surroundings.

I ran up to him. “Brad, what’s happened? What’s wrong?”

He wagged his head.

“Brad!” I grabbed his shoulders and shook him.

He shivered.

I took his hands, which were like ice and beginning to tremble, despite the warm, sticky air. I turned to the officer. “He’s had a shock. Can you help me get him over to the bench?”

“Sure,” the officer said. “But don’t leave yet. Bixby’s going to want to talk to him.”

I was so glad for the help that I didn’t think about Bixby or why he’d want to talk to Brad until a couple of minutes later when Brad’s breathing became more normal and he squeezed my hand in response.

“Brad, are you okay?”

He exhaled. “I think so. Oh, what a thing to have happen.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “How could he have done that by accident? He must have done it on purpose.”

“Who? Done what?”

Brad sniffled and straightened himself.

“Gary. He texted me and asked me to meet him here. Something about the bell.”

“The bell was ringing,” I said.

He nodded. “The bell started ringing as I pulled up. I figured Gary was testing it out. By the time I got up to the bell tower . . .”

I swallowed hard. This couldn’t be good. And Bixby wanted to talk to him?

“What did you see?” I asked.