Colorado Christmas

Luke was on the wrong side of thirty-five. Hardly a boy.

“He needs a wife to help him with the ranch and those dear little girls of his.”

Considering Luke’s unhappy marital history, Will didn’t have much faith in his brother’s taste in wives. He’d been cranky since the day he said, “I do.” Since it was a shotgun wedding, Will could understand Luke’s foul mood. Tory had set a trap for Luke that he couldn’t see through at the time. However, the doomed marriage did produce three sweet little girls.

The shop’s doorbell rang and in stepped Frank Farquar with Louella at his heels, sporting a pink tutu. Mrs. C. sucked in her breath.

“Edna.” Frank removed his best black ten-gallon hat. It was Frank’s prosperous rancher look. To Will’s knowledge, the only time Frank had been anywhere near a cow was when he was barbecuing beef.

Will scratched Louella behind the ear, then busied himself with restacking some shelves out of Mrs. C.’s reach, figuring he should stay for a bit longer. After all, Frank might need his moral support.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Farquar?” she asked.

“I’d like a bunch of your most expensive flowers for someone very special.”

Will was taken aback. Frank Farquar had a ladylove? Judging by the look on Mrs. C.’s face, that particular bit of gossip hadn’t made its way down to her part of Main Street. Yet.

Yesterday, as he’d put up new shelves for her, Mrs. C. had related their story. She’d had such hopes for her and Frank all those years ago, yet he’d been too busy making a success of his rock quarry to get around to proposing marriage. She’d wondered how different her life would have been. Would they have had the children she’d so desperately wanted and been unable to have with her husband, Jeb Carmichael?

She expelled a sigh as though she’d been thinking the same thing as Will.

“You work too hard, Edna.”

She bristled. “I do not. And I’ll thank you to mind your own business.” She plucked a bunch of pink-and-white Oriental lilies, ripe with perfume, from a bucket of water. “These are my most expensive blooms.”

Lilies were Mrs. C.’s favorite and she always kept them in her store, saying their exotic scent cheered her, even on the bleakest days. It surprised Will that she’d recommended them for another woman.

Frank shrugged. “I dunno. Do you like ’em, Edna?”

“What’s it matter what I think?” she snapped, then seemed to rein in her temper. “Of course I do. They’re beautiful flowers. However, if you’d prefer roses, I can order some for you. Will has cleaned me out of roses this week.”

Frank turned to Will. “I wondered where all those flowers at the courthouse came from. They from you, boy?”

“They sure are. Not that it’s doing me much good. Yet.”

“You’re positive she’ll like ’em?” Frank looked at Mrs. C. again.

“Of course she will! I’m a florist, and I know my business!”

Will detected an undercurrent of jealousy in her tone. This could be promising—if only Frank hadn’t turned his attention to another woman.

“I’ll take ’em.”

“I haven’t told you how much they are.”

“I don’t care. She’s worth it.”

Frank winked at Will. Mrs. C. saw it and fumed. In fact, Will noted, she was so mad, she doubled the price.

“That’ll be eighty dollars. Would you like a card to go with them?”

Frank slapped two fifties on the counter, saying, “Keep the change, and yes, I’ll take a card.”

He chose a pen and started writing in the card. Mrs. C. tapped her foot. Will grinned at her. She glared back at him. A strategic retreat right about now would be a good idea, but Will couldn’t drag himself away. Instead, he climbed the stepladder and pretended to wipe down a top shelf.

“There.” Frank placed the card in the bouquet and stood back as if to admire his handiwork.

“If there’s nothing else I can help you with, then you’ll be going,” Mrs. C. said in dismissal.

“Not so fast,” Frank said, handing over the flowers.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“Read the card.”

Scowling, she opened it and read aloud. “‘Dearest Edna, Roses are red, violets are blue. My heart is so lonely, lonely for you.’”

Will’s heart soared. But Mrs. C. looked as though she didn’t know whether to laugh or be sick.

The sight of Louella munching on one of the buckets of brilliantly colored gerberas brought her back to the present. “Oh, you naughty pig!” she cried, picking up a broom to chase Louella off. Louella spotted her and squealed, charging toward the protection of Frank’s legs. Unfortunately, she knocked over several flower-filled buckets and crashed into Will’s ladder in her haste to escape.

The doorbell rang, announcing another customer, as Will tumbled off the ladder and landed on top of Louella who squealed even louder and rushed out the back of the shop. She headed into Mrs. Carmichael’s living quarters, leaving a trail of wet trotter prints in her wake and Will lying half-dazed in a flower-strewn pool of water.

“You and your blasted pig, Frank Farquar! You should both be locked up,” Mrs. C. declared as Will felt himself all over for injuries. “Now look what she’s done. Get her out of my home!”

“I can’t understand this. I told her to be on her best behavior. Maybe she’s jealous?” Frank muttered and went in pursuit of Louella.

The jealous comment only served to make Edna Carmichael madder. She picked up a vase and threw it at him. It hit the wall and smashed.

Will dragged his attention from the commotion at the back of the shop to the customer who’d entered through the front door.

The judge was standing there, her expression contemptuous as she stared at the scene of devastation.

Will scrambled to his feet. “I’m afraid you’ve caught me at a bad time.”

“I wasn’t coming to see you, Mr. O’Malley, but since you’re here, I can deliver my message in person.”

“I’m all ears.” He offered one of his deep-dimpled grins, knowing from experience that women would forgive him anything if he smiled at them. Except maybe this particular woman…

The judge was unmoved by his overture. “Thank you for the flowers. Please don’t send me any more,” she said, then turned on her heel and left the store.

Will was puzzled. Why wouldn’t a woman want flowers? His dad had wooed his mom with flowers. His mom had apparently been as difficult to date as the judge, but his dad had persisted. Three months later, they were married, and now, nearly forty years on, they were still blissfully in love. If persistence had worked for his father, Will was sure it could work for him. However, he couldn’t keep presuming on Mrs. C.’s generosity. He needed to find a real job—a paying job—one the judge would respect.

“I’ll pay for any damage,” Frank said as he walked into the front of the shop with Louella in tow, a sullen expression on her face and her tutu torn to shreds.

“Just. Get. Out!” Mrs. C. yelled, picking up the lilies and hurling them at Frank. “And take these with you!” Mumbling under her breath, she went to survey the damage to her home.

Will glanced from Frank to Mrs. C.’s apartment doorway and then back again at Frank.