Page 286 - Demo

286Jasmine sold flowers. It might have been her name that steered her into a one-woman business arranging and selling flowers; her beauty and charm certainly aided her skills in being successful. Everyone who encountered her, loved her smile and the innocent air she gave off. Ken needed flowers for the funeral of his wife, a woman of just thirty years who died in a tragic car accident, run down by a police car that was in hot pursuit of a teenage joy-rider. He had heard from friends that Jasmine%u2019s Flower Boutique, a tiny shop in Wantage Town Square, was great at flower tributes and fair priced too. He walked in and the little bell above the door tinkled. The smell of a mixed blossom atmosphere filled his nostrils and lightened the grief in his heart. A young, beautiful woman came in from a back room.%u201cHello. I%u2019m Jasmine. How can I be of service to you?%u201dHe said, %u201cI need to arrange flowers for my wife%u2019s funeral.%u201d%u201cOh, I am so saddened to hear of your loss. Please, come through to the back room with me where we can discuss your wishes in private.%u201d She told him and went to the door, turned the notice to read %u2018closed for one hour%u2019 and locked the door.%u201cPlease, Sir. This way.%u201dKen followed her through to a large room containing numerous trestle tables laden with baskets of flowers and bouquets. She pointed. %u201cPlease take a seat. Would you like a cup of tea or coffee? I was just about to have one.%u201d%u201cThat%u2019s very kind. Thank you. Black coffee. No sugar, please.%u201dShe made him coffee and herself a tea and sat in a chair beside him, passing the cup to him. The Devil Drops By