"Henley, make a run to the store and get some stuff for the gourmet basket to fill the Napoli order."

"Sure Frank, do we need anything else?" I ask as I take off my apron and grab my purse.

"No, just don't take too long, we have a lot to get done today."

I grab some bills from the petty cash bag and head out the back door. I'm the head floral designer at Crescent Cove Flowers. Gourmet baskets, dozen rose arrangements, funeral sprays, wedding bouquets; it's all in a day's work around here.

Frank owns the shop and I've been working here for years, well as long as someone my age can do something and still get away with the phrase, 'doing it for years'. I love designing. I get to meet a lot of interesting people, be creative, play with flowers, and chat with my co-workers. Don't get me wrong, it has its moments. We deal with all manner of things like Bridezillas, grieving widows, jerky husbands that need to make up for yet another indiscretion, and hard deadlines. Not to mention when flowers you need for a huge funeral the next day come in dead. How about when they get delivered light pink when you ordered baby pink? Yes, those things really matter to brides and grieving widows.

Let's not forget about Frank. Frank is in his early fifties, a little bald on top and has deep crinkles around his eyes and on his forehead. He is tall, almost 6 feet and is helpful when it comes to reaching a vase off the top shelf. He has a little spare tire around his waist and sports plaid shirts and khakis most days. He is a bit crotchety and he thinks everyone, especially our customers, is stupid. His favorite phrase is, "people have no common sense." We hear that about fifteen times a day, especially after he hangs up from taking an order or talking to someone about a bill.

I can't really complain about him as a boss. He lets us do our thing, we get to gossip and chat in between customers and phone calls, and as long as the work is done on time he doesn't care how long we take for lunch. He is sort of like a father to most of us too. He has a crusty exterior but he would protect any of us girls like his own daughter and always slips a twenty dollar bill in my hand when we close up on holidays. He even orders us a pizza from time to time. I gotta give the man credit. He didn't name the shop something cutesy like "Buds and Blooms" or "The Stalk Market" or "Thistle Do Nicely". Perhaps it lacks a bit in originality but I like working at "Crescent Cove Flowers." I don't have to feel stupid every time I answer the phone to take a funeral order by saying, "Thanks for calling Petal Pushers, how may I help you." A full day of that and I would probably stuff a daisy down my own throat.

I hop into my little silver Honda and head the few miles to the grocery store. Today has already been a doozie and the last thing I need is some embarrassing run in with an ex looking like crap. I sneak a glance in the mirror on my visor to see if I should do any touch ups. It seems like no matter where I go in this town I run into someone and I never look my best. I survey the goods and decide a little lip gloss wouldn't hurt. The girl staring back in the mirror has mousy brown hair that my stylist wants to highlight, hazel eyes, and a body that isn't afraid of a few curves. I think the day they were giving out height and boobs a few workers called in sick. I'm what you might call 'petite' that sounds cuter than short right? In the boob department I've always been told that, 'more than a handful is a waste' and I really hope that is true because these B cups aren't raising any male eyebrows. At least not that I have noticed! These concessions about curves, height, and cup size help me sleep at night. I glance in the mirror again and pinch my cheeks a few times for some color. I've been told I have great skin so that helps, and I keep it nice and healthy, aka pale. I am a Florida native, but I am not a sun lover, go figure right?

I peek one last time as I pull into a parking space and decide this is as good as it gets. In my opinion I am not pretty, but I guess you could say cute. I mean no one has ever stopped to stare at me, either for being incredibly ugly or attractive, so I feel like that is a good place to be. I don't have the best track record with men. I do ok with kids and friends so that is some consolation. I even manage to get to work on time every day and pay my bills on time, or close enough that one reminder postcard is all it takes!

I live in a little town called Crescent Cove. It's mostly a retirement town on the west coast of Florida. It is right on the beach which should make it a great place for young people, except the over sixty-five crowd got here first and claimed it. I guess that is the advantage of being old, you get to places before the young people are even born so you can claim them first. It is the kind of town that offers Early Bird specials, if you like dinner at four o'clock, senior discounts, and forget looking for an apartment. All the affordable places to live are 55+ communities but I love this town anyway. I grew up here, born and raised, there aren't many of us. This is the place where most people come to retire. My parents raised me here but they moved away five years ago when my dad was offered a promotion and a transfer to Chicago. Since my mom is a nurse she decided she can really work anywhere. She was tired of geriatrics anyway and went to the opposite end of the spectrum and is working in a pediatric hospital and loves it.

Half of the tourism in this town is funerals. We have the beach, lots of parks, and there are a few places for young people to hang out, but it is the sort of town that you have to know how to make your own fun. It is also the kind of place you have to park half a block away when going to Wal-Mart, because the population here doesn't drive or park so well anymore if you catch my drift. So in reverence to my little silver Honda I park at the end of the lot.

As I am tooling around the produce department finding some nice oranges and a fresh pineapple for the gourmet basket I catch a glimpse of someone that looks vaguely familiar. His back is to me so I dismiss it and keep looking for the perfect bunch of grapes. As I head over to the cracker and cookie aisle I pick out some of the fancy kinds that I can't afford to buy for myself and place them in the cart. I spin around off in the direction of the candy aisle and bump my cart right into the back of the vaguely familiar form I saw back in produce.

"Ouch, watch where you're ..."

"Eli? Oh gosh, I'm sorry I didn't mean to bash into you! I wasn't looking where I was going," I quickly explain feeling foolish.

He moves in to hug me and says, "Henley, I haven't seen you in what three years? How have you been?"

"I've been good, still working at Crescent Cove Flowers, in fact I'm shopping for work right now. I can't chat long, lots to do." I say trying to move along as I talk. He starts to follow me and so I feel compelled to ask how he has been.

"So how have you been doing?"

"I'm ok, just broke up with my girlfriend," he says looking dejected. I give what I think are sufficient platitudes and scurry off in search of a box of chocolates and some fancy olives and jam.

I keep glancing ahead and behind me to try to avoid another run in with him, literally or figuratively. Eli was the guy I dated the longest since my high school boyfriend Gabe. A whopping six months. He is a nice guy but there just wasn't...