first finished centerpiece, a glow of pride filled her. Her flowers were every bit as artistic as Hattie’s couture creations. Not bad for a factory girl who only dreamed of creating something so lovely as she plucked an endless line of dead chickens in a cannery.
Rose peeked through the curtains into the shop. There were no customers, so Mr. Carmody had taken it upon himself to prune dead bits from the potted plants. Unaware of her watching, he moved with considerably more grace than usual, circling and snipping assuredly. What had made an educated, titled, wealthy fellow like William Carmody so insecure? It was a puzzle, and Rose dearly loved solving those.
As if feeling her gaze, Carmody began to turn. Rose retreated behind the curtain, heart bumping a trifle too fast, and returned to her work.
Sometime later, four almost perfectly matched arrangements stood in a row. After admiring them a moment, she went to telephone her delivery man. God bless Guy for insisting on installing the wondrous invention in both her business and Hattie’s. The modern tool made life so much easier.
In the shop, Rose found Mr. Carmody besieged by customers. She joined him in serving the rush. For the next twenty minutes, flowers flew out the door, the full buckets diminishing and orders for arrangements “like the attractive one in the window” rising.
Rose rejoiced over every sale, although she began to fear she had not bought enough stock. It was difficult to calculate how many flowers would be needed on any given day. Growing things were more trouble than the silk flowers, ribbons and laces at the millinery. Those might go out of fashion but would never fade or decay so one could keep a generous supply on hand.
When the shop was empty once more, Rose leaned against the counter with a sigh.
Mr. Carmody sat down heavily on the stool. “Is it always so busy? How do you manage on your own?”
“Sometimes it is difficult, but I can’t really afford to hire an assistant yet. I cannot thank you enough for your aid today. You stepped in and did precisely what was needed.”
His gaze dropped. “I was happy to help. Were you able to finish your order in time?”
“The delivery man arrived in back while you were occupied. I suppose my customers thought it odd a fine gentleman was assisting them.”
“They did not look past the apron.” He indicated her striped apron which he had donned. It was ludicrously short on his long form. “Anyway, I’m the sort of fellow people don’t notice, which is fine with me as I prefer to blend into the wallpaper.”
“I feel the same way,” Rose said. “I prefer to blend in and remain unnoticed.”
Carmody rose from the stool. “Miss Gardener, I don’t believe you could avoid being seen. Your appearance invites attention. Your hair… and your eyes. You are like…” He mutely waved his hands as if performing a magic trick. “You are a lightning flash.”
Embarrassment etched a scarlet trail across her cheeks. “Oh my! You are too kind. That is the most, er, descriptive compliment I have ever received.”
He wedged his hands into the apron pockets and looked out the window.
Rose wished to soothe his perpetual discomfort. “You could never blend into the wallpaper, Mr. Carmody. Your presence is indomitable. I think that is the word I mean. Strong and resolute. Is that correct?”
“That is how you perceive me?”
“Yes. Absolutely. A rock, someone on whom a person may rely.” She extended her hand, inviting a shake. “Might I consider you a friend, Mr. Carmody?”
“I hope you will, Miss Gardener, for I should very much like to be yours.”
They formally shook, once… twice, before letting go.
“I must leave now, as I have a tutoring appointment this afternoon,” he said.
Guy had never mentioned his friend taught, another facet of this unusual Mr. Carmody to explore. “I pray helping me has not made you late.”
“Not at all.” Carmody met her gaze with piercing eyes and a subdued smile. “Good day, Miss Gardener.”
“Good day, Mr. Carmody.”
Rose watched him leave and touched together the fingers of the hand he had shaken. She assured herself the reason she felt a bit lightheaded and swoony was because she had not eaten any lunch.
What a difference a few hours could make. That morning she had dreamed of a greenhouse and the prospect of designing one had dropped into her lap. She had wished for help in the shop and a courteous man arrived to aid her. Like the fortuitous first