Sunset in Central Park (From Manhattan with Love #2) - Sarah Morgan Page 0,2
from the sun.
“Do we know what’s happening?”
“No, but I can tell you it’s not all celebration. Paige needs to work magic.”
Eva glanced around wistfully. “It all looks so pretty and we’ve worked so hard to make it perfect. Normally I love bridal showers. I always think of it as a final celebration before the bride and groom ride off into the sunset.”
“Sunset is what happens before darkness, Ev.”
“Can you at least pretend you believe in what we do?”
“I do believe in what we do. We’re a business. We manage events and we’re damn good at it. This is just another event.”
“You make it sound so clinical, but there’s a magical side to it.” Eva straightened the wing of a silk butterfly. “Sometimes we make wishes come true.”
“My wish was to run a successful business with my two best friends, so I guess you’re right about that. There’s nothing magical about it, unless managing to function after an eighteen-hour day is magical. And coffee is definitely magical. Fortunately, I don’t have to believe in happy endings to do a great job. My responsibility is the flowers, that’s all.”
And she loved it. Her love affair with plants had begun when she was young. She’d taken refuge in the garden to escape the emotions inside the house. Flowers could be art, or they could be science, and she’d studied each plant carefully, understanding that each had individual needs. There were the shade-loving plants like ferns, ginger and jack-in-the-pulpit, and then there were the sun worshippers, like lilacs and sunflowers. Each needed an optimum environment. Planted in the wrong place, they would wither and die. Each needed the perfect home in order to flourish.
Not so different from humans, she mused.
She loved selecting the right flower for the right event; she enjoyed designing displays of plants but most of all she loved growing them and watching the changing seasons. From the extravagant froth of blossom in the spring to the elegant russets and burnt orange of the fall, each season brought its own gifts.
“The flowers are beautiful.” Eva studied the bunch of flowers artfully arranged in the pitcher. “That’s pretty. What is it?”
“It’s a rose.”
“No, the silvery one.”
“Centaurea cineraria.”
Eva gave her a look. “What do normal people call it?”
“Dusty miller.”
“It’s pretty. And you used sweet peas.” Her friend drew her finger wistfully over the flower. “They were my grandmother’s favorite. I used to leave bunches of them by her bed. They reminded her of her wedding. I love the way you’ve put this together. You’re so talented.”
Frankie heard the wobble in her friend’s voice. Eva had adored her grandmother, and her death the previous year had been devastating. Frankie knew she missed her horribly.
She also knew that Eva wouldn’t want to have a wobbly moment at work.
“Did you know the sweet pea was discovered by a Sicilian monk three hundred years ago?”
Eva swallowed hard. “No. You know so much about flowers.”
“It’s my job. What do you think of this? It’s Queen Anne’s lace,” Frankie spoke quickly. “You’ll like it. It’s very bridal. Perfect for you.”
“Yes.” Eva pulled herself together. “When I get married I’m going to have that in my bouquet. Would you make it for me?”
“Sure. I’ll make you the best bouquet any bride has ever seen. Just don’t cry. You’re a mess when you cry.”
Eva scrubbed her hand over her face. “So you’d be happy for me? Even though you don’t believe in love?”
“If anyone can prove me wrong it’s going to be you. And you deserve it. I’m hoping Mr. Right rides up on his white horse and sweeps you away.”
“That would attract some attention on Fifth Avenue.” Eva blew her nose. “And I’m allergic to horses.”
Frankie tried not to smile. “With you, there’s always something.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For making me laugh instead of cry. You’re the best.”
“Yeah, well, you can return the favor by handling this situation.” Frankie saw Paige hand Robyn another tissue. “He’s dumped her, hasn’t he?”
“You don’t know that. It could be anything. Or nothing. Maybe she has dust in her eye.”
Frankie glanced at her friend in disbelief. “Next you’ll be telling me you still believe in Santa and the tooth fairy.”
“And the Easter bunny.” Composed again, Eva whipped a tiny mirror from her purse and checked her makeup. “Don’t ever forget the Easter bunny.”
“What’s it like living on Planet Eva?”
“It’s lovely. And don’t you dare contaminate my little world with your cynical views. A moment ago you were talking about Mr. Right.”