Jack stared at the giant Christmas tree in the town square. He was, as always, a little surprised at how tasteful it was. It was decorated with white lights, not the rainbow of lights in every imaginable color that he would have expected. Of course, there were, at a conservative estimate, about a million or so lights on the tree, as well as strung everywhere else one could string lights – and some spots that he wouldn’t have thought it possible to – all around the square.
He still had an hour to kill before his date with Esme. He didn’t know why he was so nervous about it. Now that he’d met Marianne, and struck up what he hoped was the beginning of a friendship with her, he didn’t need to use Esme to get close to her boss. So this was just a cup of coffee and a piece of pie with someone who wrote flirty, not to mention pretty clever, emails. What was there to be nervous about?
Nevertheless, he’d checked out his appearance in every surface he came across. His hair was still neat, the collar of his shirt still looked just right, he hadn’t spilled any food or drink or anything else on himself. He might not have what it took to be a TV star or even a male model, but when he looked back at himself, there was nothing to be embarrassed about, either.
He’d meet Esme, he’d eat with her, they’d talk pleasantly for an hour or so, and that would be that. Not a thing in the world to worry about.
Now that was settled, Jack wandered across the square, then crossed Douglass Road and walked past the Esmerelda Theater and into Romantic Blooms. It was a date, after all, and Esme would appreciate flowers, even if there was no chance of tonight’s meeting leading to anything more.
“Can I help you?”
He hadn’t even seen the woman behind the cash register. It was the owner of the shop – Jack had seen her at the town meeting. Christine, Cindy, Charlene – her name had begun with a “C,” he was fairly certain.
“Just looking. I’ve got a date tonight.”
The woman – Carla? Catlin? – smiled. Beamed, really, from ear to ear. He assumed that anything romance-related produced that reaction pretty much anywhere in Romance, and doubly so in a flower shop. “Oh, that’s wonderful! What’s her favorite color? Whatever it is, I’m sure we’ve got something that she’ll love.”
Jack gave her an embarrassed grin. “I don’t know, actually. Tell you the truth, we’ve never actually met. I guess you could call it a blind date.”
She beckoned him to the counter. Cheryl! That was her name, there on the business cards in the little holder next to the cash register. “That’s so romantic! Well, hopefully it will be, anyway. You can’t go too far wrong with roses.” Jack was about to point out what a cliché roses were, but Cheryl beat him to it. “I know, I know. Roses might seem overdone, but everyone buys them for a reason.”
There were a lot of roses, in colors Jack hadn’t known they came in. “I’ve got my pick, don’t I?”
Cheryl came out from behind the counter and led him to the roses. “A dozen might be a little overwhelming for a first date. And a single red rose could seem a bit overdramatic.” That was one word for it. Jack could think of others. “What about this?” She pointed to a vase full of flowers that were almost, but not quite, purple. “Lavender. Do you know what a lavender rose represents?” Jack didn’t. “Enchantment, majesty, and, best of all, love at first sight.” She paused, for what Jack could only assume was dramatic purposes. “What could be better for a first date? Just one, it’ll make quite the impression, don’t you think?”
Jack doubted that Esme knew the meaning of a lavender rose anymore than he’d known it before he’d stepped into the shop. Still, it was the thought that counted. “You’re the expert. I’ll trust your judgment.”
Cheryl clapped her hands. “Wonderful! I think it’s just the perfect choice. And you know what? I won’t even charge you for it, as long as you promise you’ll come back here to buy those dozen roses for your second date. Deal?”
Jack didn’t have the heart to let her down. “Deal.”