The Accidental Florist

keep fuzzy and tickle our noses.“
    “Might as well. Neither of us are going anywhere tonight, are we?“
    By dusk, when the cats climbed back over the fence, Meow limping a little, both Jane and Shelley were tiddly. Jane stood up to call the cats in and almost lost her balance.
    “Jane, you’re drunk.“
    “No, I’m not. I drove all day long and then sat out in the setting sun drinking diluted champagne. That’s all. Let’s see how you find your own way home.“
    “I just live next door, Jane,“ Shelley said, standing and waving her arm, nearly tumbling over her chair.
    “Coffee,“ Shelley pleaded. “Strong coffee. I’m not sure I can get home without crawling across both our driveways.“
    Holding on to each other, with the cats wreathing around their ankles, they made their way to Jane’s kitchen. “I have to feed the cats first or they won’t leave us alone.“
    Jane spilled a third of the cat food on the floor. She looked down and giggled. “They’ll eat it anyway.“
    Shelley had also spilled some of the coffee mix on the counter. They sat down at the kitchen table, listening to the cats crunching their food and smelling the coffee brewing. Every now and then, one or the other of them laughed softly at nothing.
    “Can you pour the coffee or should I?“ Jane asked.
    “First one who can stagger across the room will.“
    Shelley won because Jane skidded on some of the hard little cat food pellets. They made their way carefully to the living room, carrying the cups that were only half full so they wouldn’t spill, and sipping while watching Paula Deen cooking a pork roast on the Food Network.
    In two minutes, Jane burped slightly and said, “Let’s watch something else that’s not about food. I’m still a little dizzy and food doesn’t sound good.“
    They watched Curb Appeal instead. It was an episode Jane had seen at least twice before, but she didn’t care.
    Shelley finally got up when the show was finished and said, “I have to go home and take a little nap.“
    Jane went to her kitchen door to watch her leave. Both of their cars were in the adjoining driveways. Shelley was walking well, but lightly touching the hoods to make sure of her footing. When she reached her own kitchen door, she made a victory sign to Jane and went inside.
    Jane also decided a nap was a good idea in spite of it being only seven in the evening. She went to the stairs to her bedroom and paused for a moment. She could crawl up them safely, but Todd might come out in the hallway and realize she was still a little tipsy. So she clung to the stair rail and called out to Todd when she got to the top landing, “I’m just back from a long drive and I need a short nap.“
    There was no reply. The door to his room—Mike’s old room—was closed.
    Jane didn’t wake until morning, still in the clothes she’d worn the day before. At least she didn’t have a hangover. In fact, a good night of deep sleep had cheered her up considerably. She went to the bathroom to brush her teeth before showering and was horrified at the state of her hair. She looked as if she’d been in close contact with a tornado overnight. A really punk-looking hairdo.
    Her first published book about Priscilla was coming out in about two weeks. She’d been surprised at what a slow process publishing was. First her agent had a few minor corrections to suggest. Jane made them. Then the editor had a few more to be made. Then the copy editor went at it hammer and tongs. When all that had been done, there were requests for input on the cover copy and blurbs. And then her editor faxed copies of the cover andplacement of her name. By that time nearly a year had passed and Jane had finished the next one, except for letting it sit and stew before rereading the final draft. Good thing they had a picture of her looking a whole lot better than she did this morning.

Chapter Two

    The next morning, when Jane went out for the newspaper, Shelley was coming inside with hers. They made no mention of the day before. Shelley looked as chipper and normal as Jane did now that Jane had fixed her hair. The cats had indeed eaten all the spilled cat food and Jane had cleaned up the floor. “I have coffee brewing. I found a new brand at a Starbucks in Kansas. A hint of hazelnut flavoring, I think. But not saying so on the container. Want to try it out with me?“
    “Sure,“ Shelley said, pitching her own newspaper on her kitchen porch. “Isn’t it odd that all