Free Lilies That Fester by Janis Harrison Page A

polite.”
    â€œRelax, Bretta, it’ll work out. Everyone comes here to get
away from that ‘same old rut’ as you so aptly put it. If the beds are comfortable, the service is efficient, and the food is delicious, who’s going to complain?”
    â€œI hope you’re right.” I studied him thoughtfully. “How did you get into this business?”
    Alvin leaned against the wall and talked as I filled a couple of buckets with warm water. “I started a career in the Peace Corps. Now I cater to the ‘lush’ and ‘gush’ of our society.” He made a face. “I’ve dealt with both ends of the spectrum—famine and deprivation and gluttony and abundance. Overseas, I literally got sick from all the deplorable sights. I had to come home to recuperate.”
    Alvin gave me a sad look. “It’s a fact that children are starving all over the world. I couldn’t make myself go back overseas, so three times a year, I produce a benefit performance at the open-air theater that’s part of the Haversham Hall estate. All the proceeds go to an orphanage in Somalia.”
    â€œAlvin, I had no idea. That’s admirable and very—”
    â€œI’m not doing anything fantastic. Tell me how you became a florist?”
    I was in the middle of my tale when the food arrived. While talking, I’d filled several buckets and was ready to pry off the lid from the box of flowers. Alvin suggested we eat before we cut stems. My stomach growled agreement.
    The waiter had put the food on a small table after we’d cleared it. As Alvin and I sat down, I studied him, looking at him in a new light. His smile was shy; his eyes twinkled good-naturedly.
    â€œI’m impressed with what you’re doing for those kids overseas. Most people talk about it, feel bad, but don’t do anything. If you’ll send me information about the next benefit, I’ll see to
it that you have coverage in my hometown paper.” I raised my iced-tea glass in a toast. “Good luck and congratulations.”
    Alvin clicked his glass to mine. “Thanks, Bretta. It’s a deal.” He took a slurp, then wiped his upper lip with a napkin. “Now let’s talk about this floral conference. What’s got you so upset that you’d walk out on that—what did you call it?—introductory dinner?”
    I picked up a section of a chicken wing and took a bite. Alvin would be impartial and from what I’d discovered he was a good listener, but did I really want to talk about the contest?
    I chewed and after swallowing reached a decision. “Let’s just forget it. We’ll eat this great food, and then cut the flower stems. Afterward, I’ll toddle off to bed, and tomorrow morning, I’ll wake up with a clearer head and a brighter outlook.”
    â€œSounds good.” He dipped an onion ring into the puddle of catsup on his plate. “You know what this snack calls for?” he asked, casting me a conspiratorial glance.
    My mouth was full. “Hmm?”
    â€œA piece of blackberry cobbler, or there’s coconut cream or chocolate pie. Take your pick.”
    â€œI can’t eat all that before I go to bed. I won’t sleep a—” My willpower fled at his offer of my favorite dessert. “Did you say coconut cream?”
    We were visiting, having a good time, when the door opened and Gellie stuck her head in. Seeing me, she demanded, “How many storage rooms are there in this place? I must have opened twenty doors before I heard laughter. I knew it was you. There’s no mistaking that cackle.”
    She came into the room, eyeing the food and licking her lips. When she saw Alvin, she smiled. “A party? I hope I’m
invited.” She unzipped her purse. “I don’t suppose I could get a cup of hot water?”
    Purse. I whipped around looking for mine. I searched under the table, on the back of my chair,