1 The Ladybug Jinx Read online

“I’ll have it all,” Sam said with confidence. His stomach had come alive with every food item she listed.

  He smiled as the waitress walked back scribbling on her pad. He knew he threw her for a loop, just as her diner had thrown him for one.

  Sam’s mind drifted back to Bianca before she was sick. Her sun kissed blonde hair tussled over his pillow always made his heart pound. He could endlessly touch the ends of her hair careful not to wake her. Many times he smelled her, not only sleeping next to her but during love making.

  Her soft hands comforted him after long days of working on set. He was known as the bad boy, the trouble maker on set. At home he was different. Sam had never cared for or respected any woman as he did Bianca. She took the chaos out of his life.

  The clinking dishes bought him out of his deep image of Bianca, forcing his eyes to focus on the paper. Just as he was turning to the front page, the waitress walked over to fill his cup.

  “Where you from?” she asked.

  Have you no shame? He’d never been around someone so nosy. Sam thought thinking of the right answer, “California.” He answered truthfully. Why not? After breakfast, he was going to hop back in his car. He quickly looked down for fear she would recognize him. The last thing he needed was to be found by his agent or paparazzi.

  “What ya doing down in these parts?”

  Her silver name badge read Mamie. She looked like a Mamie although he’d never met a Mamie. “Well, Mamie.” He didn’t have to worry about coming up with some lame brain excuse, she was off and running to the next table. The diner was getting fuller by the second.

  Sam was amazed how thin and basic the paper was. He was used to the Times. He opened the front page to a photo of two women and a baby. He laughed when he read the caption “three generations.” He reread the caption and studied the photo trying to figure out why it was news.

  The waitress waited next to Sam holding his plate in one hand, “Move the paper.” She demanded him and he obliged without question.

  “Mamie, why is this news?” He pointed to the three generations of women.

  “Three generations.” Mamie beamed with pride like she knew them, “Ain’t she cute.”

  Sam surprised himself agreeing with her. He has never paid any attention to children.

  “You should see her in person.” Mamie talked like the little baby was of royalty.

  She still didn’t answer his question on why it was important, but for some reason it seemed to warm his heart. He hadn’t seen anyone so happy to celebrate three generations, much less a community.

  The help wanted ads jumped out as soon as he turned the page. One in particular.

  Wanted: Delivery boy Ladybug Florist, apply in person. Ask for Celia Briggs.

  Flower delivery boy? The question pleased Sam. He could imagine a breakfast date with Mamie every morning, reading the local paper and delivering flowers. How ironic. Bianca had loved flowers. She’d never let their house go without fresh flowers every week.

  At first Sam didn’t understand why it took so long. “Just pick one,” he’d say to her when she would walk through the aisle of the open air farmer’s market. He smiled remembering how she would pick up each stem, raise it to her nose and slowly inhale the fresh scent. Sam secretly enjoyed going to the market taking a sexual pleasure in her picking sequence.

  He couldn’t wait to get her home and seductively make love to her. She knew she was seducing him with each flower, she knew what waited for them when they got home.

  “You want your check?” Mamie interrupted his thoughts. “You’re taking up a four topper and we have a line. If you want to stay, you need to move to the bar.” Mamie slammed down the check.

  “Mamie, what do you know about Celia Briggs?” He studied her face.

  “What you want with Celia?” Mamie growled like a protective mother. Sam instantly knew if he wasn’t going to get much out of her.

  “She’s looking for a delivery boy and I’m looking for a new job.”

  Mamie slid her fingers down the eye glass chain until it reached the stem of her glasses. She placed them on her head taking the paper from Sam and reading the help wanted ad.

  “I think she wants a boy, not a man.” Mamie’s accent drug out the ‘a’ in man.

  Sam wasn’t going to let Mamie detour him. He had a feeling about this job. Maybe it was the connection to Bianca; maybe it was a fresh start that excited him. All he knew was that he’d be going there before it opens and apply before anyone else.

  The sleepy town had come alive. Trucks had lined the main street and pedestrians walked along the sidewalks where the carriage lights had long shut off. Several people lined along the wrought-iron fence, with their coffee’s from The Trembling Cup, and watching the waterfall. Quickly Sam took the coin out of his pocket, and tossed it in with hopes he’d be The Ladybug’s new delivery man.

  Sam used his Blackberry to retrieve the address of The Ladybug and the Garmin to find it. He found the town to be somewhat remote and backwards, but liked the slow pace. Even driving behind the John Deere tractor made him smirk.

  The country roads lead to the brick driveway with a small wooden sign: The Ladybug Florist. His stomach pitted. He had never applied for a job he knew he wasn’t going to get. What about questions, job references? Hell, Sam thought, it’s a delivery boy.

  He found the red brick home odd for a floral shop, but woman turn a piece of wire into a piece of art. He wasn’t one to question a woman, something he learned long ago from his own mother.

  Sam noticed the cute dog having a field day with his presence at the bay window. The closer he got the small grey dog yelped. The sign on the door signaled the florist was not open.

  The listed time was ten o’clock and by his watch it was five minutes till ten. He could go back to his car and wait, or he could stand there as the redhead bolted down the stairs and opened the door.

  “Earth laughs in flowers.”

  Ed Waldo Emerson

  3

  The ad was waiting on the fax machine when Celia poured her first cup of coffee. Maybe no one would respond to the ad. She wasn’t ready to be responsible for another person. She would figure it out somehow. Maybe her father could make small deliveries near his house; she could use her lunch hour and after work to deliver some. It would work out, she just knew it.

  There was no need for Megan to send her a proof of the ad. There wasn’t much to it, so Celia decided to leave it on the fax.

  “Good morning, Boy,” she hollered out to Charlie as he bounced around trying to catch a squirrel.

  She embraced the silence of her life. Until recently her life had been a constant roller coaster in Cincinnati. Depositions, emails, meetings, late dinners then driving an hour and a half on weekends to take care of a sick mother.

  “Cee is taking a leave of absence.” Her mother would say to her friends. “Just helping out until I can get back on my feet.”

  Of course everyone knew her mother’s cancer had spread to her liver and it was only a matter of time. “Leave of absence” was really a nice way of saying her daughter was spending her last days with her.

  Driving back and forth caused Celia to get lost in her childhood dream of owning her own florist. A dream she could never reveal until her mother’s death, it was one her mother had not shared. Celia had fulfilled her mother’s dream and with her mother’s passing Celia realized it was now her turn.

  She enjoyed her life, embracing her dream. She’d get up by an internal clock, sip her coffee while watching the morning news—giving her time to wake up. Not the constant on the go big city lawyer she once was.

  Charlie barked causing her to glance out the window. Her first customer was knocking before she even walked down stairs.

  Six foot four businessman, khaki pants, brown loafers, white tee underneath a nicely pressed cardigan. Rolling her eyes, she knew his type. He was a yuppie, his straight floppy brown hair laying just about the brow, and aviator sunglasses. Even the last button
on his cardigan was left unsnapped in an undone, preppy kind of way.

  “Good morning.” Celia opened the door and turned around the sign on the door.

  Roses, she thought. He was going to get roses. She hated roses. They always pick roses.

  She doesn’t understand why. It’s not like they are the prettiest flower, but the rose is the most expensive. The more they spend, the better they look. If they’d only pick based on meaning alone, they’d never pick the red rose.

  He wasn’t from around these parts. She knew everyone in town. Plus the blue Mercedes two door coupe was not the local favorite. That was a Ford truck. Having been a lawyer gave Celia wonderful people reading and observant skills.

  “How can I help you?” Celia asked, her mind already creating a bouquet of roses.

  He pulled out the newspaper from under this arm. “I am here about the ad.”

  “For your son?” They must be new to the area.

  “No. For me.”

  “Oh, hold on.” Celia started to back into the other room to retrieve the ad from the fax machine. Damn it, Megan, Celia thought, what did you do? What did the ad say? Puzzled she picked up the copy.

  Wanted: Delivery boy Ladybug Florist, apply in person. Ask for Celia Briggs.

  She read it over and over. Nothing special, nothing deceiving. Just the logistics.

  “Is the position still open?”

  She turned to find him standing in the old doorway. Thank God for these old houses and large door frames.

  “Yes it is. I just put the ad out today.”

  “Lucky me.” He grinned, almost blinding her with his handsome good looks. “I’ll take it.”

  Just like that? Celia didn’t like the cocky attitude. There was no way he was serious. She peeked back at his car. She guffawed.

  “You have to be kidding me-right?” She was amused.

  “I don’t understand,” he stated without a smile or a smirk. There was a thread of irritation in his voice. “I don’t joke about work. Are you taking applications or not?”

  “Yes, but it doesn’t pay well and it’s not full time.” Again she looked at the car. And she confirmed it was a Mercedes.

  Celia had planned the applicant to be a teenager or young adult who could make afternoon deliveries. Her father could make early deliveries.

  He pointed back to the car. “That’s a loaner until my, er, truck is fixed. I really need a job to help pay for it. I need this job.” He said as he tapped on the newspaper lying down on the white farm table.

  Charlie rushed in jumping up on him. He bent down to pat the excited dog.

  Celia felt betrayed. Charlie was supposed to be loyal to her, not an arrogant yuppie. Celia took a dog treat out of the dog jar, luring Charlie back on her side.

  “I don’t even know your name. And you haven’t even filled out an application.”

  Celia had no application, but it bought her some time to get this stranger out of her life.

  “Sam Reynolds. I have a great driving record.”

  Celia didn’t want to shake the hand he stuck in front of her. But she did. Only to have her hand dropped shortly after he touched it. She could see physical pain in Sam’s deep brown eyes.

  “Can I have an application, please?” Sam looked down at the paper.

  Celia was so taken back by his reaction from her touch, her mind had drawn a complete blank. “Um. . .I don’t have an application.” She stammered. Celia felt flush with stupidity. Something she never let a man see.

  “Celia?” The bell dinged along with her father’s booming voice. Charlie had not budged. He continued to look at the new stranger in town, as mesmerized by Sam as she was.

  “Here you are.” Marty walked into the room. He began to leave once he saw Sam. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had a customer.”

  “I’m not a customer. Sam Reynolds.” They shook hands.

  “Marty Briggs, Celia’s father.”

  Celia smiled. She could tell by the tone of her father’s voice he wanted Sam to know that he was the only man in her life.

  “What can we do for you, Mr. Reynolds?” Marty asked.

  “Sam, please.” Sam stood a little taller and stated why he was standing in Celia’s florist. “I’m applying for the job.”

  Marty rubbed his hands together, looking pleased as punch. “See, Celia, I told ya we would find someone. And we just put the ad out.”

  Celia saw Sam’s eyes light up by the warmer welcome Marty seemed to be giving him.

  “Dad, could I see you upstairs please.” She pointed her finger in the way of the steps.

  “Excuse us for one minute, Sam.”

  She tried to be as polite as her parents had taught her, but the decision to hire Sam was up to her and she needed to stop the hemorrhage her father was creating.

  “Come on Charlie.” Celia patted her leg and said before she turned the corner to go up the stairs for a little privacy.

  “Dad, it’s my shop.” Celia reminded her father who was right behind her.

  Thankfully Celia knew the old house like the back of her hand. The hardwood floors were old and the board just before the steps was loose and always made the worst creek when stepped on.

  “See.” Celia pointed down stairs when she heard the noise. “He’s eavesdropping on us right now. We don’t know him dad and the ad is only a few hours old.”

  “I know Celia, but he is here to apply and he seems normal.” Marty tried to reason with her.

  Celia pulled him into the second floor living quarters she’d made her home. It was the only way she could afford a home and a shop. The three bedrooms one bath has become one bedroom, media room and efficiency kitchen. Only the efficiency kitchen is adorn with stainless steel appliances, granite counter top and island wrapped in wainscoting and two bar stools. The exposed brick made the kitchen inviting and company forget they were above a florist.

  “There is something wrong with a grown man, who drives a Mercedes and wants to deliver flowers.” Celia tried to keep her voice down to a high whisper when she shut the media room door behind her.

  “Maybe it’s not his car.”

  Celia remembered he said something about a Ford, but she can’t recall.

  “Dad, if this doesn’t pan out and he’s some kind of serial killer, you…” She pointed her finger at his chest. “You are going to start delivering full time.”

  Celia flung her long silky red curls behind her shoulder and gave her father a scowl.

  “Okay fine,” Marty said. “Tell him it’s a trial period. Then maybe a few more applicants will apply.”

  Celia thought for a moment. She could have him do some of the far away deliveries until she finds a suitable applicant, then just tell him it’s not working out.

  “Fine. But you are helping him out.” She opened the door, took a deep breath to collect her thoughts and walked down the stairs.

  “I’m sure you heard us discussing your employment, Mr. Reynolds.” Celia felt her eyes narrow. She pointed to the squeaky board. “You weren’t as quiet as you thought you were.”

  The red blush across the bridge of his nose and around his cheeks made Celia weak in the knees.

  “I. . .” Celia looked away to calm herself, then back at Sam. “This is a paid trial. Something I’m doing with everyone who applies.”

  Sam nodded. Celia wanted to smack the smirk off his face. There was something about him that she didn’t like and she couldn’t put her finger on it.

  Celia went to the map hanging up. “This is the Grandberry Falls. As you can tell it isn’t very big, but there are outer lying areas that are too rural to put on a map. I will try to MapQuest everything and print it out for you.”

  “That won’t be necessary. I have a Garmin.” Sam quickly closed his mouth as Celia’s flew open.

  “Who’s Garmin?” Marty questioned.

  “A fancy GPS system, Dad.” Celia rolled her eyes in disbelief her father would fall for Sam’s suave ways. His reaction was what sh
e needed to confirm there was something fishy going on with him.

  “I’d like to see this Garmin,” Marty said. “Maybe I need one of those.”

  “Why? You know all the streets, and the whole purpose of getting another delivery person is because you don’t want to drive.”

  Marty’s cheeks flushed and he stepped backwards. Obviously he was embarrassed by his daughter’s ill manners. “You’ll have to excuse Celia. She is talking out of school and wasn’t raised that way.”

  Sam looked between the father and daughter.

  “When can you start?” Celia wanted to get him started only to be able to fire him by week’s end.

  “Today,” Sam confidently stated.

  It was a lot for Celia to take in before her second cup of coffee. Hand holding was not on her to-do list today. But getting started on the day’s orders was.

  “It’s already been a long morning and I have a long day of orders to fill.” Looking at Sam, she gave in. “Why don’t you take the day to explore the town and be back tomorrow morning at ten o’clock? I’ll have some easy deliveries ready for you, and when you are done with those, you can ride along with my father and he can show you some of the country roads.”

  “I thought the whole idea of hiring a delivery person was to let me stop.” Marty questioned Celia.

  “Of course it is, Dad.” Celia was going to get her father back to work one way or the other. “We can’t just throw him into the fire. That wouldn’t be good training.”

  “Former lawyer.” Marty pointed at Celia. She could see the pride in his face of her previous life.

  Celia was exhausted by day’s end. She had four orders of “get well soon” arrangements going to the Veterans Memorial Hospital in the morning. The hospital was thirty minutes away. She’d give those to Sam to deliver. That way she could kill two birds with one stone, he’d be out of her hair for an hour and all of the orders are in one place. He couldn’t screw that up.

  Celia was slowly becoming the confident person she always wanted to be.

  “There’s something not right with that Sam.” Celia patted Charlie who was nestled up against the bend of her knee where he sleeps nightly. Charlie wagged his tail just at the mere mention of Sam. She couldn’t shake the notion she knew him from somewhere, but where?