kids file in, a blend of artsy teens, notable for their dyed hair and body piercings, and burly, athletic types. Pizza and sauce are apparently the ultimate unifier, and she thinks someone should tell that to today’s politicians. Although only six years have passed since Riley graduated from the University of Wisconsin-Madison, in some ways it feels like decades. These kids aren’t worrying about whether to hire a band or a DJ for their wedding, about whether they should limit their invites to a hundred guests (and risk offending distant family members) or invite two hundred people, many of whom are merely far-flung acquaintances. Sometimes she has to stop herself from stepping into Slices just to slip into one of its social circles and eavesdrop. A few sweet minutes of pretending she’s back in school, where the most important concerns are tomorrow’s exam or Friday’s party.
Working in the Square, next to Harvard Yard, makes her job even more enjoyable because there’s something appealing about being so close to all that brainpower. In theory, it seems she should be getting smarter through osmosis. Often a professor or a student will wander into the store looking for flowers and strike up a conversation. Usually, they’re hopeless when it comes to knowing what they want, but Riley is only too glad to help.
She likes to think of herself as a matchmaker, bringing the right bouquet together with the right customer. Even those shoppers who have a good sense of what they want are often hard-pressed to tell a petunia from a begonia. That’s where Riley comes in. “My wife, who’s home sick, could use a little pick-me-up,” a professor might say, and Riley will hurry to suggest massive pink peonies or a bouquet of cheerful yellow and white tulips. She’s forever trying to steer customers away from roses (a popular choice), which, in her opinion, are the world’s dullest flowers. Why on earth would anyone choose roses when so many other gorgeous blooms abound—colorful dahlias, lilies, lilacs or snapdragons?
Riley is tidying up the counter, discarding the chopped-off remnants of stems, when the bell on the front door jingles. When she glances up, it’s not a customer, but Marilyn, her mother-in-law-to-be, and Riley’s sunny mood instantly evaporates. As lovely as she seems, Marilyn is, Riley has learned, the kind of woman who often arrives under false pretenses. It takes a while before the true purpose of her visit reveals itself.
“Riley! So nice to see you,” Marilyn says as if she’s surprised to find her daughter-in-law here, at Riley’s place of work, in the middle of the day. That she says this even though Riley and Tom had dinner at her house last night makes it even stranger. A dinner where Marilyn sprung the news that she’d booked lunch reservations at the Seafarer for this Friday to sample wedding-reception menus. Riley nearly spit out her shrimp scampi, knowing full well that she and Tom could never afford a wedding venue as lavish as the Seafarer. But Marilyn was quick to add, “Hugh and I insist on paying for the reception. Really. You kids should save your money for a house.” And maybe for the first time in the entire stretch that she has known Tom’s parents, Riley found herself agreeing with the woman.
“Hi, Marilyn,” Riley says now with fake cheer. Her mother-in-law strides over and gives her a kiss on both cheeks. “What a nice surprise. What brings you in?”
“Well,” Marilyn sets her purse down on the counter and glances around the store before continuing. Riley braces herself for whatever bomb she might be about to drop. “I’m so glad you asked, sweetheart. I was hoping to grab you for a minute, maybe a quick bite to eat?” She pauses when Riley doesn’t respond. “But if you’re too busy...”
As her voice trails off, Riley scrambles to come up with an excuse. Except for the two of them, the store is painfully empty. “I’m sorry,” she says, inventing her story as she talks. “But I can’t step out right now. I’m the only one here.” Rick will be back any second; he’s around the corner grabbing a coffee. “But we can talk here, can’t we?”
Marilyn sighs heavily, as if this is a huge disappointment, but plows ahead nonetheless.
“All right. Well, after dinner last night, Hugh and I got to talking.” Riley can only imagine what Marilyn’s latest plans are for her wedding. Swans parading across the lawn? Acrobats? The Boston Symphony set up on the terrace