triumphantly for Marissa to see. Two figures coiled around one another like snakes. A star shone brightly overhead. “It is that, child. This card is L'Amoureux - the Lovers. For good or for worse, you’re going to be marked by love.”
Chapter 7
At 1:25 – an hour later than her stomach would have preferred – Marissa managed to make her way to the front to grab a bite to eat. Crazy Betty and a customer conferred over a Tarot reading. Marissa shook her head. Crazy Betty was the only one in the whole place who would not, could not, be reprimanded. Must be her age. She, on the other hand, was fair game for Cara Giannola, Marissa’s bossy, control freak of a supervisor. When Marissa entered the back room this morning, Cara tapped her watch and crooked her finger, indicating that she come in and meet with her RFN, an acronym that Cara often used – Right Fucking Now.
“Close the door behind you,” Cara said, without looking up. “We need that McCarthy account done RFN, as in yesterday. And we need the ad specs emailed to John Jacobs Clothier. And meet with accounting to go over the status of the Shirtless Boyz account. We may need to postpone their ad until they pony up. And since you’re late, you’ll be making up the time later tonight, right, Ms. Engles?” She pounded two sheets of paper between the stapler.
Marissa wondered if that was supposed to be her head getting stapled. “Yes’m,” she mumbled , but Cara never heard her, or if she did, she didn’t acknowledge. That’s what Cara was like – you either said something interesting worth acknowledging or you didn’t. Most of the time you didn’t.
As she exited into the crisp spring air, a floral delivery truck pulled up to the curb. She paused to see a uniformed man leap from the truck, trot to the back, retrieve one of the largest floral arrangements she had ever seen, and head for her office. He zipped past her, nearly knocking her over.
“Oh, sorry,” he said, steadying the huge vase.
“Who’s the lucky recipient? I work there,” she said, smiling.
“A gal named Marissa Engles.”
Marissa’s heart leaped up into her throat, and a shy smile crept along her cheeks. “That’s me.”
“Oh.” The man paused for a moment and looked at her. “Lucky lady. I was picking up my second round of deliveries when the guy came in. He was intense. He handpicked every stem in this arrangement, right down to the Baby’s Breath. Usually customers just poi nt to a picture, pay, and leave.” He glanced down at the card. “He also wrote a virtual book. No little scribbled note for this guy. I had loaded up the truck and was ready to go when he finally finished with your card. Where do you want them?”
The tiny birds batted against her insides, seeking escape. Her body ignited with excitement. “Um, bring them in and put them on the counter. I’m going to need a crane to get them into my car.”
“Yeah, he was insistent that you get these here. He sent another bunch to your home.”
A warm flush spread through Marissa’s cheeks. “Well, I’m not there. What do you do with them when the person isn’t there?”
“Oh, if the porch is safe enough, we leave them there. Otherwise, we come back later. Don’t worry. Now, can I put these down? They’re heavy.”
Marissa held the door open for the guy. He placed them on the front counter, nodded, and zipped away.
Crazy Betty and the customer looked up from their Tarot reading and gaped. “Lord, lord, lord, child, did I tell it right or what?” The elderly woman heaved her body up from her seat at the counter. “What does the card say? Give an old woman a thrill.” The movement stirred her lungs into violent protest. She pressed her stiff white handkerchief to her mouth until the coughs subsided. “Buddy, Buddy, Buddy, the pathway is clear.” Her eyes rolled up in her head and then settled back into position like cherries in a slot machine. “And the angels are ready. You’ll be