“Orange calla lilies are my favorite,” I said, walking back toward the hallway.
“Did you see me take it?” he asked as I passed him. “Is that how you knew?”
“No, I told you. I arranged all of these. It was obvious.”
“Well, I’m impressed.”
“Don’t be. And seriously, don’t steal my flowers again.” I left him standing there in the cafeteria, staring after me.
In the hallway, I pulled out my phone and sent a message to Micah: PSA, there’s an entitled guest roaming the halls. Engage at your own risk!
A train of wheelchairs rounded the corner and blocked my way for a moment as several nurses escorted their patients toward the lobby.
“Sophie,” Mr. Washington said as he was being wheeled by. His nurse, Kayla, stopped. “I think my wife once owned a skirt like that.”
“Is that a compliment or a statement, Mr. W?” I asked.
“Always a compliment, Miss Sophie. You look stunning.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you know how to tie a bow tie?” He held up the bright red material.
“I do.”
“Could you help out an old man with arthritis?”
“Of course.” I stepped forward and draped the tie around his collar.
“My nurse doesn’t know how to tie this,” he said, as if everyone in the world should have this skill.
“Guilty,” Kayla agreed. “How do you know, Sophie? This town doesn’t really have any black-tie affairs.”
“I watched some YouTube videos when I was like ten and practiced on one of my dolls,” I said, looping the tie. “My mom wasn’t exactly thrilled with my new skill because I’d cut up one of my skirts to make the bow tie.”
“That’s funny. I forgot you were into fashion,” Kayla said. “You want to go to design school or something, right?”
When she said it like that, it sounded like a passing thought and not my everything. “Yes.”
“Have you applied for my scholarship?” Mr. Washington asked. “You’re a junior this year, right?”
I tightened the bow tie and stepped back. “I am. But you haven’t changed the rules of your scholarship, have you? I thought it was only for students who want to go to college in Alabama.” Mr. Washington had more love for Alabama than anyone I knew, and he had been bribing students to fill its colleges for over twenty years now.
“It is.”
“I’m going to school in New York.”
Mr. W’s wrinkled brow became even more wrinkled. “But your mother told me you couldn’t afford that.”
“I’ve been saving, and my dad is going to help some.”
He must’ve heard the defensiveness in my voice because he said, “That’s great, but it doesn’t hurt to apply. There’s nothing wrong with a backup plan.”
My mom liked to use that phrase a lot too—backup plan. She had me failing before I’d even begun.
I nodded. “I’ll think about it.” I’d think long and hard about how I wasn’t going to do that at all. In a year and a half, all my dreams were going to come true.
When I brought the boxes of gift bags back into the cafeteria, Mr. Entitled was nowhere to be seen. Thank goodness. But Caroline was there, messing with speakers she had set up by two potted plants.
“Oh, good!” Caroline said, coming over to me. “I was worried I left them at home.” She peeked into the top box I carried. “Aren’t these adorable?” She picked up a cellophane bag with little red hearts on it. “They match the centerpieces!”
“Cute,” I said, trying to sound sincere.
“Now,” Caroline said, “if you’ll fill each of the bags with a large pinch of pink grass and a handful of these wrapped chocolate hearts, they’ll be the perfect little take-home favors for the guests. There’s some ribbon to tie the bags in there too.” She looked around like she was searching for something, then put her hands on her hips. “You can’t put the bags together in here. That’s not very professional. Do you think you can find a room somewhere?”
“I’ll do it in the back of the kitchen,” I said. “Mr. Williams doesn’t ever mind if I take over a counter.”
“Hmm. I don’t know if that will work today.”
“Why not?”
She looked at her watch. “Oh, it’s nearly time. Just tuck the boxes in that storage closet and you can get to them later. Right now, will you go to the lobby and see if they have all the guests gathered yet? If so, you can lead them inside.”
“Okay.” I found the supply closet outside the kitchen, pushed the boxes under the bottom shelf, and walked down the hall. The entire lobby and part of the hallway was filled with chatting families.
“Good evening!” I tried to say above the voices, but nothing changed. I scanned the group, curiosity getting the better of me and wanting to place Mr. Entitled into a family. But I didn’t see him anywhere. I did see Kyle, though, standing next to his grandma. So she had moved into the home sometime in the past year.
Kyle was wearing a tie, which he’d already loosened, with a collared shirt and jeans. His blond hair was rumpled and falling into his eyes, as always. He smiled at me and I smiled back, my face getting warm. Maybe my brother hadn’t ruined things after all.
Finally one of the nurses let out a loud whistle and a “Quiet down, y’all!”
I turned my attention back to the group. “I’m glad you’re already having fun,” I said. “If everyone is here, we’d like to welcome you into the main event. Please follow me.”
I led the large group back down the hall, acutely aware that Kyle was probably watching me. But I was here to work, not get distracted.
Inside the cafeteria, soft music poured from the speakers. “Welcome!” Caroline beamed.
I held the door open while the group filed inside, so I heard their first oohs and aahs. Caroline was right; they loved the over-the-top setup.
Kyle was one of the last to enter, and he paused right next to me. “I didn’t know you were going to be here,” he said.
“Every Occasion did the flowers.”
“Oh, yeah. That makes sense,” he said.
“You didn’t get asked to play?”
Kyle and I went to school together, but we’d also been at a couple of the same events since I’d started working at Every Occasion last year (after I’d been turned down by the one place in town I wanted to work at: Minnie’s Alterations).
“You think my band would’ve gone over well here?” He nodded to the speakers with a grin. Kyle’s band played mostly loud and unintelligible music, but somehow they made it work.
“Your grandma doesn’t like your music?”
He laughed, and the sound made me smile.
“See ya around, Evans.” He joined his grandma at a center table.
Just as I was about to shut the cafeteria doors, a man wearing a white chef coat and a sour expression swept out of the kitchen. He grumbled something and angrily marched to the end of the hall, where he shoved open the door leading outside and stepped through. He looked vaguely familiar but I couldn’t place him. Had Mr. Williams hired an assistant chef? I didn’t think he could afford that. He already employed Lance Ling (a guy who went to school with me and Micah) to help out at events.