Chapter 3

I watched the place where my schedule had disappeared inside Royce's coat. Then I turned to Pastor Ames and held out my hand.

"The next wedding order, please."

Pastor Ames looked toward the counter. A single white copy rested beneath Delphine's palm, its corner darkened by water from the rose stems. I knew the date without seeing it. I had ordered the lilies six weeks earlier and counted backward from their opening day.

"Nell," he began, "the church council wanted continuity."

"How thoughtful. May I have the order?"

His fingers separated and joined again. He had blessed our marriage twenty-nine years ago. He had also called me before every Christmas service because nobody else could keep white lilies standing beneath the sanctuary heat.

Delphine lifted her hand. I reached for the paper, and Pastor Ames reached first. He drew it toward himself with both hands, careful enough to make the refusal feel ceremonial.

"The standing arrangement has been transferred," he said.

The cut beside Delphine's thumbnail had stopped bleeding. She wrapped a strip of green stem tape around it and pressed the end flat with her teeth.

"Starting when?"

Pastor Ames turned the order around. Where NELL HARROW had appeared every season, DELPHINE SARR sat in fresh black type. The delivery notes beneath it were mine: two altar urns, six pew clusters, bridal-room vase, lilies opened halfway and no farther.

My fingertips stayed on the counter. The wood had a nick from the winter Royce dropped a bucket and spent an hour sanding the splinter smooth for me. He had protected my hands from that small injury. Now he stood behind me while another woman's name covered my work.

"This wedding is Saturday," I said. "The flowers are already in my cooler."

Delphine's gaze moved to the back room. For one second, need showed plainly on her face.

"I'll pay you for them."

"Thank you. They're not for sale."

Royce stepped closer, lowering his voice as though the others could not already see the wound. "Don't turn this into a fight."

I slid the order from beneath Pastor Ames's hands. My throat would not close properly, but my fingers found the line for the florist and covered Delphine's name.

"I accepted this wedding. I bought for it. I will finish it. After Saturday, the church may discover what continuity costs."

Pastor Ames closed his eyes briefly. He apologized with my name, then opened them and left the decision exactly where it was.

"Delphine has the standing arrangement now."

She drew the paper toward her, but I kept one corner pinned. The sheet bowed between us. Beneath the delivery notes, the price line showed the same figure I had charged the church for nine years, including three summers when lilies had cost me nearly half again as much.

Delphine saw it. So did Royce.

I released the page. "Please order your own flowers."

Then I went into the cooler and marked every stem reserved for Saturday with red thread. I had tied one hundred and twelve knots before weddings, always so no funeral order could take a bride's flowers by mistake. This time the knots meant nobody would take mine.

When I returned, Royce had the order. His thumb rested over the price line while Pastor Ames waited by the door and Delphine held her taped hand against her apron.

Royce folded the sheet until the numbers vanished into the crease.

"We'll talk about this later."