He came for a flower. The greeting took longer.
“Good morning,” Daniel said.
The clock above the square struck twelve. He stood with one hand raised beside his white hat, waiting for the last stroke to reconsider.
“Good afternoon,” said the woman behind the flowers.
“Only just.”
“You can try again.”
He lowered his hand, then raised it once more. “Good afternoon.”
She smiled. “There you are.”
One Red Flower
Three metal buckets stood on a wooden table: red flowers, white daisies, and yellow tulips. Water gleamed on the dark stems, and a few damp leaves clung to the boards. The woman wore an apron over her white dress, with a loose strand of hair escaping from her cream-coloured bun.
Daniel pointed to a red bloom.
“That one, please.”
She lifted it from the bucket. A drop landed on her shoe.
“An occasion?”
“A kitchen shelf.”
Her fingers paused beneath the flower.
“It’s a rather bare shelf,” he added. “I’ve been meaning to do something about it.”
“Does it have a vase?”
“A marmalade jar.”
“Empty?”
“Since breakfast.”
She laughed and reached beneath the table for a sheet of paper. “Then you’ve come at the right time.”
Before the Paper
As she trimmed the stem, Daniel looked at the daisies. One leaned far out over the rim, its petals brushing the neighbouring bucket.
“That one seems to be leaving.”
“It does that. I turn the bucket, and by lunchtime it’s looking over the edge again.”
“Perhaps it prefers tulips.”
“It was looking at my sandwiches yesterday.”
The scissors clicked. She laid the red flower across the paper, then looked up as he began telling her about a plant on his windowsill that had spent the winter growing behind the curtain.
“Did you move it?”
“I moved the curtain.”
“Considerate.”
“The plant had done more work.”
A customer approached with a shopping basket. Daniel stepped aside while the woman counted six tulips, folded their paper, and found a length of twine. He watched a little water run between two boards. His own flower lay ready beside the scissors.
After the Sale
When the customer left, she wrapped Daniel’s single stem. He paid, took his change, and tucked it into his pocket. The paper felt cool where the wet end had touched it.
“Thank you,” he said.
She nodded. He shifted the flower into his left hand, leaving his right free for a goodbye.
“And the plant?” she asked.
His hand stopped halfway up.
“Sorry?”
“Behind the curtain. What happened when you found it?”
Daniel turned back toward the table.
“It had reached the next window.”
“You must have quite a windowsill.”
“Would you like to hear about the other end?”
She rested the scissors beside the buckets. “I think I’d better.”
Names, Eventually
They were discussing the inconvenient position of his kitchen tap when she said, “I’m Mae, by the way.”
“Daniel.”
He glanced down at the wrapped flower. “I meant to ask much earlier.”
“We were busy with your shelf.”
A breeze lifted the corner of the unused paper. Mae caught it beneath the scissors, then moved the leaning daisy clear of a tulip.
“I’m here tomorrow,” she said. “Good morning is available until twelve.”
“I’ll come earlier.”
“You needn’t rush, Daniel. The other greeting worked quite well.”
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