yet; The Times had always been his morning newspaper.
Well, practical joke or not, there would have to be a retraction put in as quickly as possible!
And she would have to ring Emily as soon as she got to the shop, warn her of what had happened. No doubt her bubbly daughter would find the whole thing hilarious. And if it had been anyone other than Greg Neilson perhaps Helen might have found it amusing too.
Her full-time assistant, Sonia, and the two young girls who usually helped out on a Saturday were already waiting outside the shop to be let in when Helen parked her car on the road opposite just before eight-thirty, getting out and taking the newspaper with her. Thank God none of the three girls waiting for her read The Times, although she realised there would probably be some explaining to do to some friends today who would wonder if the announcement was correct, and why they hadn't been told sooner.
As it very often was first thing in the morning, the telephone was ringing inside the shop as she unlocked the door for them all to enter, the two younger girls making a start on taking out the buckets of blooms and arranging them on the pavement outside; by nine o'clock the shop would be ready to open. Sonia went straight through to the back of the shop to make a start on making up the bouquets from the boxes of fresh flowers that had already been delivered.
Helen opened the order book that always lay beside the telephone, picking up the pen next to it before lifting the receiver, knowing it would probably be some poor man who had forgotten his wife's birthday or their wedding anniversary and wanted to know if it was too late to get flowers delivered today; these frantic early-morning calls were invariably from such worried men. Helen always felt sorry for them.
‘Palmer Florists, can I help you?’ She smiled as she answered the call; Sonia would make the delivery later on today, and the wife in question would never even guess at her husband's frantic early-morning call to the florist.
‘Helen.'
Just that. But it was more than enough.
Her hand tightened about the receiver until her knuckles showed white, but she replied smoothly, ‘Zack.'
‘You've seen the newspaper?’ Again he spoke with the minimum of effort needed to make himself understood. Again it was enough.
Two could play at that game! ‘Yes,’ Helen answered as economically.
‘I think we should talk, don't you?’ It was an instruction, not a request.
It had always been so with this man; he ordered, everyone else jumped to obey.
Helen stiffened resentfully. ‘I don't see any point—–'
‘Our children have seen fit to announce their engagement to each other—unless you put it in?’ The idea suddenly seemed to occur to him.
‘Certainly not,’ she snapped.
‘I didn't think so,’ he rasped. ‘In that case, the announcement seems more than enough reason to me for the two of us to talk!'
She felt the colour burn her cheeks at the intended rebuke. Ridiculous. The whole thing was a practical joke anyway, so why should she feel guilty for refusing to discuss it with this man? Because that was exactly what he was trying to make her feel.
‘It's a joke, Zack,’ she told him impatiently. On all of us, she thought wearily. Whoever the little devils were who had done this, they couldn't realise just how much of a joke it was!
‘What the hell makes you think that?’ he bit out tautly.
She stiffened. ‘I think I have a close enough relationship with Emily for her to have told me about something like this,’ she scorned.
‘Do you?’ Zack returned softly.
She gave an outraged gasp. ‘Now look here—–'
‘I'll call at the shop at four o'clock this afternoon,’ he cut in arrogantly.
That had always been the trouble with Zack; he moved too fast for her, too fast for most people! ‘I don't—–'
‘We can talk then,’ he spoke autocratically over her objection.
‘—have the time to see you this afternoon,’ she finished determinedly—and then realised how aggressive she had probably sounded as there was a pointed silence on the other end of the line. Well, damn it, he wasn't even letting her finish what she wanted to say! She drew in a controlling breath. ‘It's Saturday, Zack,’ she reminded him evenly. ‘I have three weddings today, and—–'
‘And our children have just announced a fourth!’ he bit out tautly. ‘That is more important than anything else either of us has to do today.’ He was reminding her that, as a surgeon, he was probably busier than she was! ‘I'll be at the shop at four,’ he repeated firmly before replacing the receiver with a decisive click.
Helen's hand was shaking so much—whether just from anger at being bullied in this way, or from the shock of having to talk to him at all, she wasn't sure!—that it took her three flustered attempts to replace her own receiver.
One thing she was sure of: Zack would be here, as stated, at four o'clock this afternoon! He was a man who always did exactly what he said he was going to do, no matter how unpleasant the task—and she certainly had no reason to believe, if it weren't for Emily and Greg, that he was any more eager to talk to her than she was to him. The opposite, in fact!
Sonia wandered into the tiny room they laughingly called the office at that moment, her preoccupied expression telling Helen that she was looking for the list of today's orders. But her expression turned to one of concern as she glanced up and saw how pale Helen was. ‘All right?'
All right? All right? No, it was not all right; just talking to Zack Neilson had totally unnerved her.
‘Fine,’ she answered shakily, wishing she sounded more convincing. ‘I just—I have a phone call to make, and I'll be right with you.'
Sonia, a ravishing blonde in her early twenties, wasn't fooled for a minute by Helen's attempt at a smile. But over the two years the two of them had worked together they had learnt to respect each other's privacy. And so, with one last concerned glance, Sonia disappeared with today's list of deliveries.
Helen quickly picked up the receiver and dialled Emily's number, well aware that time was marching on, and she still had those three weddings this afternoon.
The telephone rang and rang at the other end, and when a sleepy voice did eventually answer she knew instantly that it wasn't Emily's. There was a further delay while the still-sleepy flatmate, one of the three girls Emily shared with, wandered off to get Emily from her bedroom. Only to finally wander back again minutes later to inform Helen that Emily wasn't in her room and that she must have gone down to the library early to study.
Helen knew it was much more likely that Emily had been to an all-night party and hadn't even got home yet; the library wasn't even open for another ten minutes!
Emily was at college studying English Literature, but as she was able to breeze through any studying involved with ease she tended to have a fairly hectic social life. God knew what the party tomorrow night was going to turn out like!
Helen
