Boone nodded. “I noticed them on the real estate photos. Flagpole brackets need to hold flags. I got us an American flag, a Texas flag, and…” He strode toward the front of the shop, where he picked up one of three flagpoles. He unfurled the flag with a flourish. “This!”
Tucker read it and snickered. “Seriously?”
“We need a slogan. It’s perfect. You say it all the time.”
Jackson nodded. “He’s right. You even have Haley saying it. Grab the ladder, Tucker, and let’s do this thing.”
Ten minutes later, the three McBride cousins stood shoulder to shoulder, hands on their hips, staring at the flags fluttering in the gentle January breeze. Tucker grinned. Something told him Gillian was gonna love this.
* * *
“Thank you so much, Shannon. We enjoy doing business with you.” Upstairs in the cramped, second-floor room that she used as an office, Gillian ended the call with one of their suppliers. She set her phone onto her desk beside the twenty-year-old Princess Bride lamp she kept burning while she worked because the converted storage room had no window or natural light. The Christmas gift from Aunt Cathy, along with the foul ball Gillian had caught at an Astros game when she was eleven and the bowling trophy she’d won last year, were the only personal items she kept here. The rest of the space was filled from floor to ceiling with files and folders and fabric swatches.
Luckily, Gillian was organized by nature, so she managed to work in such a confined setting. However, she did look forward to having a real office once she and Jeremy worked past this rough spot, married, and launched Blissful Events from the mercantile building across the courtyard. She had her office space already picked out. It had four windows and plenty of room for a desk and filing cabinets and the personal touches that would make it hers. She had her eye on a cabinet over at Anderson Antiques that was perfect for displaying some of the hand-painted teacups she collected but had no room for here at Bliss.
She crossed the supplier call off her to-do list and went to the next item. She managed to keep her mind on business and off her personal concerns until she finished up just before noon. She headed downstairs whistling one of Jackson McBride’s songs and broke off mid-note upon finding her mother sweeping up broken glass in the shop’s entry. “What happened?”
“Just clumsy me,” Barbara replied, disgust lacing her voice. “I was digging for my sunglasses in my purse and didn’t watch where I was going. I tripped over my own two feet.”
Gillian gave her mother a quick once-over as she took an automatic step forward. She didn’t see any sign of injury, thank goodness. “Did you fall?”
“No. The yoga classes are paying off. I managed to keep my balance, but unfortunately, I bumped the entry and broke the crystal vase I scored at the garage sale last week.”
“Thank goodness.”
Barbara scowled at Gillian. “It was Waterford!”
“Thank goodness that you didn’t fall,” Gillian clarified. Her mother had a history of taking tumbles. “I’m glad the vase was the only thing broken.”
Barbara wrinkled her nose. “Well, I murdered the poor daffodils too, I’m afraid. Broke their delicate little necks. That’s what I get for bragging about scooping a piece of Waterford out from beneath Belinda Parson’s nose.”
Gillian stifled a smile. Her mother and Mrs. Parson had been Friday morning garage sale shopping partners for more than a decade. The competition to snag the good stuff was serious business. “Hand me the broom and dustpan, Mom. I see some pieces you missed.”
As Gillian swept up the last of the glass shards, Barbara stood with her hands on her hips and made a slow circle, studying the salon’s greeting area. “I hate not having flowers to greet our clients. The room isn’t nearly as warm.”
“I can stop by Blooms on my way back from lunch and pick an arrangement up from Maisy. She always keeps a few made up. Or, if you have another vase, she told me a few minutes ago that she’d got some gorgeous calla lilies in this morning.”
“Callas?” Barbara brightened at the thought. “I love callas. Mini or standard?”
“Minis. Pinks and whites.”
“Oh, beautiful. Get some of both. A dozen. They’ll look lovely in your grandmother’s trumpet vase. I have it tucked away in the back. Tell Maisy I said hello, and don’t forget the flower food!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Now, I’d better run. You know how my sister gets when she has to wait on me.” Barbara picked up her handbag and headed out the door, calling over her shoulder as she went, “No need to rush your lunch, dear. Our MOB called, and they’re running about twenty minutes late. There’s a road closed in Austin.”
“There’s always a road closed in Austin,” Gillian replied as the door closed behind her mother.
She put away the broom and dustpan, made one final adjustment to the bustle of the gown in the front display window, and then grabbed her purse, flipped the OPEN sign to CLOSED, and stepped out into the bright sunshine of a beautiful winter day.
The weather forecast called for temperatures in the mid-seventies this afternoon, with a partly cloudy sky and a slight chance of rain in the early evening. Poor weather certainly wouldn’t prevent anyone from enjoying outdoor activities today.
The mouthwatering aroma of grilling meat seasoned with Mexican spices perfumed the air and reminded Gillian that today was Taco Tuesday. The Miguelitos’ food truck parked in the Marktplatz at lunchtime on Tuesdays. Ordinarily, she ate a salad at home during the week, but on Tuesdays, she treated herself to Miguelitos’ fish tacos with hot peach salsa and a side of guacamole.
After locking Bliss’s front door, she turned and walked at a brisk pace across the courtyard, headed for the passageway at the back of the U, which offered a shortcut to the market square. She had a smile on her face and joy in her heart—until fluttering off to her left attracted her attention.
Fluttering, where there wasn’t supposed to be fluttering.
She halted abruptly. Across the courtyard that Bliss shared with the empty mercantile building, three flags flew from the canopy above the front doors—the Stars and Stripes, the Lone Star, and a third with brown lettering on a field of forest green that read GET GRUBBY.
Gillian blinked, then looked again. Why was her building flying a flag that said GET GRUBBY?
A bad feeling washed over her. Her heart began to pound, and her mouth went dry. Gillian’s gaze zoomed to the lower right-hand corner of the display window next to the entrance. It was empty. Bare! Bare, but for the rectangular residue of tape that for years—literally, for years—had fastened a black-and-red sign to the window. A sign that read FOR SALE.
The sign was gone.
Chapter Seven
Tucker sauntered back toward Enchanted Canyon Wilderness School a happy man. He’d eaten tacos, or a variation of tacos, in cities and towns and villages all over the world, and nothing tasted as good as Tex-Mex, in Texas, on a warm and sunny winter afternoon.
He’d managed to beg off the business lunch with Jones too, which added to his enjoyment of the day. Not only had he thwarted Boone’s plans for him—always a positive—he’d also avoided having to spend at least another hour with Gillian’s banker over German food. Exceptional German food, admittedly, but the quality of the cuisine couldn’t overcome the sour taste that being in Jeremy’s company put in Tucker’s mouth.