Dribbles - 23. Thankful

My place. Thanksgiving. Be ready or suffer the consequences.

I took back the pen and tucked the notecard in with the flowers. The guy ordering them had asked for hydrangea blossoms the same color as the blue sweater he had on. Not a flower requested every day, but not that unusual. But it was the final item he asked me to put in the gift basket, a turkey dressed in bondage gear, that brought a whole new meaning to the pair of big, blue balls of flowers on either side of the toy. Where the heck did someone find something like that? It had to be some sort of a joke.

He raised an eyebrow when I giggled. "Something wrong?"

My laugh turned into a cough. "Oh. Um. No. Sorry, just a little tickle in my throat." He so didn't buy it. I squirmed under his steady stare. "We deliver, if you like."

"Yes, I don't have time. They go to 733 Oak Ridge. I expect them to be delivered in exactly one hour, since I'm paying for the premium service." He slowly slipped on his leather gloves.

I nervously bobbed my head. "Yes, uh, sir." I bet he had high expectations. I'd deliver these myself, just to make sure. "Anything else?"

"No, just the receipt." I hurried to ring him up and get him out of my shop. Usually people ordered an arrangement and left. He'd stuck around to make sure it was perfect. It'd taken thirty minutes for him to approve two flowers, rejecting the first eight bunches I'd picked out. He was intimidating, and I didn't want to wipe away the sweat trickling down my neck to dampen my shirt in front of him. The man getting the flowers was a far braver soul than me... or seriously masochistic.

When the bell tinkled a second time as the door shut, I sagged against the counter, thankful he was gone. Just another day in the florist shop.

Right.