Forget Me Knot A Novel

by Margolis, Sue

• ISBN13: 9780385339001
• ISBN10: 0385339003
• Format: Paperback
• Copyright: 2009-07-14
• Publisher: Bantam

Summary

From the acclaimed author ofGucci Gucci CooandApocalipstickcomes a funny, sexy novel about questionable engagementsand a love worthy perhaps of the big screen. Florist Abby Crompton has a knack for arranging the most exquisite bouquets for the hippest clientele. If only her personal life could run as smoothly. Although her fiance, Toby, proposed a month ago, Abby's still waiting for the ring. An up-and-coming lawyer, Toby's been far too busy to shoplet alone muster the energy for romance. If that wasn't frustrating enough, the night she's supposed to meet her future mother-in-law, Abby gets stuck in an elevatorwith a sexy stranger bearing fine wine. Needless to say, a tipsy Abby arrives late for dinner and doesn't make the best impression. In the aftermath of the dinner disaster, Abby is thrilled to learn that a film studio wants to use her shop in an upcoming movie. But when she meets the director, Dan, she's shocked to discover that he's none other than the same man with whom she shared the elevatorand some highly personal information. Now, with Toby putting in more overtime, Abby's feeling even more neglected. And her attraction to Dan is growing dailyas her own life begins to mirror the romantic comedy he's shooting. Featuring an irrepressible heroine,Forget Me Knotblooms with charm, wit, and fun.

Author Biography

Sue Margolis is the author of six books, which have more than half a million copies in print from Bantam Dell. She lives in England, where she's at work on her next novel.


From the Paperback edition.

Excerpts

Chapter One


"HANG ON," SOPH SAID, "you're telling me, the corpse had an erection?"

Abby transferred her mobile to the other ear and with her free hand began setting the shop's burglar alarm for the night. "No, it was the dove."

"The dove had an erection?"

"Duh. Of course the dove didn't have an erection. It flew into the open coffin, found its way into the old man's trouser pocket and made it look like he had an erection."

"But why on earth were there doves flying around the house?"

Abby explained that the dead man, who had been lying in state in the front room of his Croydon semi-detached house, used to make his living as a children's party entertainer. "The doves were part of his magic act. Anyway, just before everybody was due to set off for the cemetery, his wife had the dotty idea of letting the birds out of their cages to say good-bye to their master. My guess is that when he was performing, he hid them in his trouser pocket. Right on cue, one of them headed straight for the clown suit."

"The corpse was wearing a clown suit?"

"Yeah. Red-and-white stripes with gold pom-poms down the front."

"Nice."

Abby stepped onto the pavement and closed the shop door behind her. It was thick plate glass with a stainless-steel handle shaped like a rose in full bloom. Abby was particularly proud of the handle. She'd designed it herself, taking great pains to get every fold, twist and angle of every petal exactly as she wanted it. If you looked carefully--not that anyone ever did, apart from Abby--there was even a tiny metal dewdrop on one of the petals. At first, the design had been meant purely as a business logo. Then she'd had the idea of e-mailing it to one of the cutlery firms in Sheffield and asking if there was any way they could fashion a rose door handle.

Earnshaw & Sons (By Royal Appointment) assured her the commission was well within their capabilities. Six weeks later, the exquisitely crafted tea-rose handle arrived by courier, along with Earnshaw's jaw-dropping bill for three thousand pounds.

In the middle of the door, in opaque lowercase letters,  was the name of the shop: "fabulous flowers." Sometimes, when there weren't many people about, Abby would stand with her nose pressed against the window and gaze at the outsize glass vases full of flowers, still not quite able to believe that the shop belonged to her.

"So, how come you were at this funeral in the first place?"

Another question. Soph was forever asking questions. How much did you pay for it? Why did your father need a colonoscopy? How come your uncle went bankrupt? Soph said all Jews were the same. They were genetically programmed to interrogate. They liked to take an interest in other people's lives. It was their way of showing that they cared. Soph's parents were the same. They even bickered in question marks.

"Sammy, do you have the time?"

"Tell me something, Faye. Do I look like a clock?"

Abby turned the key in the lock. "I wasn't at the funeral exactly." She explained that Smarty Arty, the deceased children's entertainer, had lived across the street from her parents. "Mum had a soft spot for Smarty Arty and his wife. The feeling was pretty mutual, and when Mrs. Smarty Arty found out that Mum and Dad weren't going to be able to make the funeral, she was really upset. Mum was desperate to make it up to her, and since the Smarty Arties were pretty hard up and there was no way Mrs. Smarty Arty could afford more than a cheap wreath to go on top of the coffin, Mum insisted on paying for a really beautiful arrangement, which I put together. When I arrived to deliver it, the old lady invited me in for a cup of tea." A smile formed on Abby's face as she wondered whether her e

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Excerpted from Forget Me Knot by Sue Margolis
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