SINCE MOST OF THE MORNING is gone, I decide to take care of some wedding-related business with a stop by Primrose Florists. I have something very special in mind for Helen’s bouquet and I want to find out if they can do it.
“I have to say, Father,” the younger Primrose says, “that it’s a bit of an unusual combination. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that.”
“Do you think it will look bad?” I ask. “That’s the last thing I want, obviously. But it has a symbolism that’s important to both of us.”
She takes a sheet of paper and a pencil and proceeds to do a rough sketch. “Something like this, I think, will look exquisite. Unusual, but exquisite. Certainly, the three colors will go well together.”
I look at the sketch. “That’s better than what I had in mind. Do it.”
She nods and says, “It will
