“Oh, I just have a feel for these things,” says Hannah with an airy wave of her hand and a dirty look at me, as if she’s reading my mind. “Did you tell her that you’d be wearing a flower? Did you specify what kind?”

Blazer Guy shakes his head. “I just figured something like this . . . ?” He points to a yellow carnation. “Something bright, you know? Friendly.”

“Oh no! No, no, no. CJ, come on over.” Hannah beckons to me. “CJ’s my apprentice,” she informs Blazer Guy. “CJ, tell— I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

“Richard.”

“Tell Richard about yellow carnations.”

For the record, I never actually asked to be Hannah’s apprentice. I’ve more or less grown up at Heart’s Desire, but I never really did anything beyond take the occasional phone order until this fall, when Hannah’s assistant found a better-paying job and left. Not long after that, Hannah asked me if I wanted to learn the art of floral design, and it turns out I kind of love it. I love the colors, the textures, the shapes, and the scents. I love how each flower has its own personality, and I love figuring out how to put everything together in ways that mean something.

“Yellow carnations say no. Like literally, that’s what they mean. N-O,” I say obediently, and Hannah nods her approval as Blazer Guy winces.

“Oh. I don’t want that.”

“I mean, they certainly have their uses,” says Hannah sweetly. “But I can tell you’re more thoughtful than that. You must be a bit of a romantic at heart.”

Blazer Guy scratches his head and smiles bashfully.

“You deserve better than carnations, and so does your date. Let us personalize it and make it perfect for you.”

Hannah proceeds to pepper Richard with silly questions: favorite color, favorite animal, favorite vacation spot. Then she gets personal: What’s his defining quality? What are his hopes for this particular date?

“I guess I hope she likes me enough for a second date?” he says uncertainly. “And I hope I like her.”

Hannah turns to me and asks, “Well? What do you recommend?” To Richard, she stage-whispers, “Prepare to be impressed. She’s really gifted.”

Right. No pressure or anything. “Hmm . . . First date, first date . . .” I drum my fingers on my chin, stalling for time. “It’s the wrong season for lilacs . . . pink rosebuds for new love?”

Even before Hannah frowns, I know I’ve failed. Pink rosebuds? Could I have picked anything more clichéd? He could have gone to Safeway for that advice.

“Mmm . . . Pink rosebuds . . .” Hannah’s nodding as if deep in thought, but it’s just for show. “Those are nice, but maybe a tad conventional, don’t you think? And a little presumptuous. We can do better.” She smiles at me kindly. “Try again.”