The Accidental Florist

I'm still a little dizzy and food doesn't sound good.'

They watched Curb Appeal instead. It was an episode Jane had seen at least twice before, but she didn't care.

Shelley finally got up when the show was finished and said, 'I have to go home and take a little nap.'

Jane went to her kitchen door to watch her leave. Both

of their cars were in the adjoining driveways. Shelley was walking well, but lightly touching the hoods to make sure of her footing. When she reached her own kitchen door, she made a victory sign to Jane and went inside.

Jane also decided a nap was a good idea in spite of it being only seven in the evening. She went to the stairs to her bedroom and paused for a moment. She could crawl up them safely, but Todd might come out in the hallway and realize she was still a little tipsy. So she clung to the stair rail and called out to Todd when she got to the top landing, 'I'm just back from a long drive and I need a short nap.'

There was no reply. The door to his room — Mike's old room — was closed.

Jane didn't wake until morning, still in the clothes she'd worn the day before. At least she didn't have a hangover. In fact, a good night of deep sleep had cheered her up considerably. She went to the bathroom to brush her teeth before showering and was horrified at the state of her hair. She looked as if she'd been in close contact with a tornado overnight. A really punk-looking hairdo.

Her first published book about Priscilla was coming out in about two weeks. She'd been surprised at what a slow process publishing was. First her agent had a few minor corrections to suggest. Jane made them. Then the editor had a few more to be made. Then the copy editor went at it hammer and tongs. When all that had been done, there were requests for input on the cover copy and blurbs. And then her editor faxed copies of the cover andplacement of her name. By that time nearly a year had passed and Jane had finished the next one, except for letting it sit and stew before rereading the final draft. Good thing they had a picture of her looking a whole lot better than she did this morning.

Chapter

TWO

T

he next morning, when Jane went out for the newspaper, Shelley was coming inside with hers. They made no mention of the day before. Shelley looked as chipper and normal as Jane did now that Jane had fixed her hair. The cats had indeed eaten all the spilled cat food and Jane had cleaned up the floor. 'I have coffee brewing. I found a new brand at a Starbucks in Kansas. A hint of hazelnut flavoring, I think. But not saying so on the container. Want to try it out with me?'

'Sure,' Shelley said, pitching her own newspaper on her kitchen porch. 'Isn't it odd that all the houses on this block were constructed with the kitchen in the front of the house?'

'I like it that way,' Jane said. 'I can sit at the kitchen table and see what's going on along the street.'

'So do I,' Shelley agreed. 'This coffee is good. I wonder if our own Starbucks carries it as well?'

'I've always just had their mocha when I buy it there. We'll have to go look and see next time we stop by.'

'Are you ever going to marry Mel?' Shelley asked.

Jane gawked at her. 'Surprisingly, I've been thinking a lot about it. You know he tried to give me an engagement ring that awful Christmas that his furnace died, and he and his dreadful mother, Addie, stayed here. I said I'd keep it for later. But he decided I might lose it and he took it back and put it in his bank lockbox.'

'Do you suppose he still has it? After all, you and he have had a very long, happy relationship and now that you're going to have only one child at home most of the time, you should consider it.'

'Do I have to propose to him?' Jane asked with a glint in her eye.

'Why not? You're an independent woman. Not a wimp. The worst that could happen is that he'd turn down the offer. And you know he wouldn't.'

'I'm fairly sure you're right. I'd like for him to live with me in this house. It would mean giving up several closets and cleaning out the other half of the garage for his precious MG.'

'When did you become so practical?' Shelley asked. 'All these years hanging out with you,' Jane replied.

'You're the most sensible, practical woman I know. Except for your give-'em-hell driving habits.'

'You'll note, I hope, that I've never been in an accident,' Shelley claimed.

'But other people you terrified have ended up in ditches, I'd bet.'

'I never look back,' Shelley said proudly.

Jane was quiet for a few minutes and then said, 'I'm going to have to plan my proposal to Mel. I don't think, `You wanna get married, big guy?' is quite appropriate.'

'Ask first if he kept the ring he tried to give you. Would that be a way to start a proposal?'

'Good idea. Thanks.'

As it happened, Mel called Jane later in the day and said, 'Want to go to your favorite pricey restaurant tonight? I have something to tell you about.'

He sounded so serious that Jane was scared. Was he getting ready to dump her just as she was about to propose marriage?

'Of course I'd like that,' she said, trying to make it sound as if she meant it.

'You sound wary,' Mel said. 'It's not a bad thing. Just something I suggest you and Shelley might want to do.'

Jane sat down at the kitchen table, thinking that he'd come to understand her a little bit too well. 'I can't wait to hear what it is. What time should I be ready?'

'I've already made reservations for seven. Is that okay?'

'It's fine. I'll leave a sandwich and chips for Todd.' 'Can't he do that himself?' Mel asked, sounding sincerely confused.

'Sure he could. But I'm a mom.'

Mel was quiet but relaxed as they drove to the restaurant. They always had a private booth where they couldn't be overheard. The waiter handed them the poster-sized menus, asked if they wanted a drink while they studied the menu, and disappeared to get each of them a glass of the house merlot.

They both knew what they wanted. Jane chose a green salad and chicken scalloppine. Mel wanted a salad and the largest filet mignon on the menu. They might choose desserts later.

The waiter returned with the restaurant's signature rye bread rolls and butter along with their drinks, took their orders, and disappeared.

'What is it you wanted to tell me about?' Jane asked when she'd finished a roll and tasted her drink.

'It's about your and Shelley's safety.'

'I don't understand. Is this police work? Are we in some kind of danger we don't know about?'

'In a way. But it's not a police secret. Women are attacked far more often than men. Men tend to fight back,