Chapter 12: The Night Before

The form with my name on it was folded in my back pocket, and Brooke's torn check sat in an envelope in my bag.

I had not said a word about either to anyone but Sam.

If Brooke wanted her flowers, she would get them, and she would stand under them while I decided what to do with the rest.

Friday afternoon, the day before the reception, Roz and I stood on stepladders in the Pennell ballroom and built a wall of flowers.

It was the arch behind the head table, eleven feet tall.

White ranunculus, garden roses, sweet pea, and three hundred silk-lined peony heads wired into the frame.

From the floor it looked like a real June garden.

Roz wired the last peony and climbed down to look.

"If I didn't know better," she said, "I'd think you loved her."

"I love the arch."

"It's the best thing you've ever made."

"It's a good arch."

"It's perfect," Roz said happily. "Nobody will be able to look away from it tomorrow."

"That's the idea."

The doors at the far end of the ballroom opened, and Sam walked in with a leather bag over one shoulder.

My stomach dropped before he said a word.

He had a flight bag.

"I have to go to Chicago," he said when he reached me. "Tonight."

I was holding a roll of wire, and I put it down carefully.

"Tonight."

"A freight board meets at nine tomorrow morning. If Pennell moves his forty-three percent, I need a replacement contract signed before he does.

"I've put this off for a week." His jaw tightened. "It's the only flight I can make. I'll be back by four tomorrow."

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