My shop remains closed the week after Christmas, but I ask my four main people and a high school kid who serves as 'gopher' to come in and help with the inventory so Val and I can close out the business year. Thanks to the big contracts and Val's precise ordering system, we've precious little to count. In three days the work is completed and I plan for us all to take off until after New Years, but a panic call from a favored client wanting something unusual for a New Year's Eve party cancels that. I'm about to refuse the contract when Val, Cary, and Danny overhear the conversation and tell me to go for it.

Cary remembers something. "Hey, boss. Remember those stupid animated Santa and elf figures you bought? Let's go with a Passing to the New Year theme and use 'em. I know Joyce makes some of her own clothes, so let her make up some kind of robe for the Santa so he'll look like Father Time, and put a diaper on the elf for the baby new year."

"No, wait a minute," Val says. "What if they're the main decoration? Put the Father Time figure in a grandfather's clock and at midnight have him pop out and hand a calendar to the baby who comes out of the arrangement of greens at the same time."

"Yeah. I saw a plastic grandfather's clock not long ago that's just about right for the figure. I can antique the clock so it looks like real wood," Danny adds.

Cary grabs a pad and pencil and does a sketch that surprises me at its imagination and beauty. "How's this?"

"Amazing, Cary. I hate to throw a damper on this, but I think you're gonna need some more animation for what you've got in mind."

"Got that covered," Val says. "Guy in one of my computer classes at school used to work for the guy you got that stuff from. He told me bought a big box of parts they used to use for all that because he likes to tinker around with computer controlled animation. Want me to give him a call?"

Cary jumps up. "I'm gone. You go get them figures and put 'em on my bench, Danny. Go get that clock, too."

"You think you can come up with the robes and stuff for the figures, Joyce?" I ask.

When Danny comes back and shows me the clock, I almost fall out of my chair. Tacky doesn't begin to describe it. "Damn, Danny, Cary's gonna kill you. How're you going to make that look presentable?"

He grins. "Wait and see. If the kid says it'll work I'll have it looking good by tomorrow morning."

"No sweat. I did one does what you want while I was working for Action Figures. This is their stuff so I know how to handle it."

"Okay. Give Val your figure; he'll call you soon as we get the contract. I'll pay your travel today whether we get it or not. Val, work up a bid fast and I'll take it by and see what she thinks soon as we leave here. We've got only two days, you know. I'll give you a call at home if she's buys it so you can let Ted know and place the order for flowers."

"Yeah, babe, live stuff this time. I'll help you work out what we'll need," Cary adds with a grin.

I have two days of surprises. First, my client is delighted with Cary's ideas and tells me to get started immediately, not even asking the cost. The next morning, Ted shows up and spends the morning adding the motors and parts needed to make Cary's idea work, going so far as rigging the clock, which is a small electric clock, to set off all the action at midnight. By mid-afternoon Danny shows me the clock which I would never recognize. It looks very nice, almost like the real thing in miniature.

When Ted finishes installing the things he couldn't while Danny was painting the clock, he offers a great suggestion. "I know you didn't pay near what these figures actually cost, but you should hang on to 'em and use 'em again in the future. It's no trouble to make them look different, so you can rent them out to keep the cost down."

"I'm going to be around for a while, so I'll be glad to give you a hand when you need it."

"Thanks, you've done good work. Tell Val and Joyce to add your name and phone to our list."

I was delighted when the local paper gave our work for the Christmas tour six full pages in their Home supplement on Sunday, but they give another full page to our New Year's decorations and future bookings for holidays and other special occasions begin to pour in.

Cary reminds me Valentine's is coming up and he needs more help, as does Danny in the warehouse. When I ask him if he knows anyone he'd like to hire, he says he'll get back to me.

A few days later Cary knocks on my office door and walks in, shutting it behind him. "Got a minute, boss?"

"Got a kid outside I want you to see. He used to work at Flowers Unlimited in Washington until he got hurt. He does a great job cause I saw his work at a convention a couple of years ago. He ain't pretty to look at, but that ain't no reason he can't do great work for us if you'll give him a chance."

I hope, because Flowers Unlimited is one of the most prestigious floral decorators, as they prefer to be known, in the country. "I don't know what all the secrecy is about, but bring him in, Cary."

When Cary does, I see a tall dark haired young man who looks perhaps a year or two younger than myself. It's when he turns I understand. The left side of his face is bisected by a cruelly disfiguring scar running from temple to chin, and his left hand is obviously prosthetic. It has the basic shape with digits approximating a thumb and three fingers.

I fight to keep a neutral expression as Cary introduces him. "This is Tim Walton, Randy. Tim, Randy Stanton, the boss."

I stand and shake his hand. "Cary says you do excellent work, so I know already you're good. You sure you want to work for a small outfit like ours?"

"I wish I could pay you what I know you must be used to, but we're growing and I put everything I can back into the business. Would you accept twelve an hour until we see how you're going to work out?"

"I really want to get back into the business and this is the first time anybody's given me an interview since I got hurt. I know how I look, so ¼"

"Tim, I don't give a damn how you look, only how you perform. Sit down and let's talk. Cary, pour us some coffee if you don't mind. I want you in on this, too."

After we're all set with coffee, I lay out my plans and ask Tim if he's familiar with the specialty decoration side of the business. He says he was assistant purchasing agent for the gift department where he used to work and names a few European manufacturers I've never heard of.

"Tim, your first job will be to get catalogues from those people and make a sample selection of things for me to see. If I like them and think they'll sell, that'll become part of your job."

The right side of his face draws up in a grimaced approximation of a smile. "I'd like that."

"Good. I want you to meet our business manager." I reach for my phone, but Cary jumps up. "I'll get Val, boss."

I know he wants to fill Val in, so I don't object. The moment he sees Val in his chair, Tim looks relieved and accepts Val's warm greeting. Cary tells me to let Tim use his office since he's in the shop most of the time anyway.

"Poor guy, my ass! You saved my butt last fall and don't you forget it. I don't give a damn how Tim looks as long as he works out like Cary says he will."

"We're trying. Cary asked Tim to stay with us until he finds a place. We'll see what kind of ideas he has tonight when we get home."

The next morning Val has classes so it's Cary who comes to my office. "Think you can get that kid helped us New Years, boss? Tim got a great idea ought to go with the younger set."

Cary shakes his head. "Naa. Want you to see it in action, boss. If you don't think it's cute, I'll pay the kid out of my own pocket."

"No need for that, Cary. Val has Ted's number and he's at school here, so Val probably sees him. It's almost time for classes to break, so call Val on his cell phone and tell him if he sees Ted to have him drop by to see you after school."

A couple of afternoons later my phone rings, it's Cary asking me to come out to the shop. He, Val, Tim, and Ted are waiting. Cary has done a large rough looking basic Valentine's arrangement of red anthuriums, their heart shape appropriate for the season, but these are too old to sell. On one end of the arrangement hovers a gold cupid holding the usual bow with arrow. On the other end are a young man and woman holding hands. Cary grins as Tim pushes a button. Cupid slowly draws back his bow and suddenly the tiny arrow flies straight into the seat of the young man's pants. He immediately bends and kisses the girl.

It takes a while for me to stop laughing. "Damn it, Cary, I might of known when you asked for Ted. Tim, it's cute as can be, but I just wonder if we'll get a party large enough to accommodate something that large."

"I hope so. When Cary told me you had those animated figures I thought you should be using them for special events if you had somebody knew how to make them work." He smiles at Ted. "This guy really does."

"Hope this goes, Randy. It's sure to get us another page in the paper for originality," Val says.

We get a contract to do the Junior League Valentine dance at the country club. The cupid animation will work perfectly there, so I turn Cary and Tim loose on it. Cary happily reports that Tim is so good with his fake hand he's almost as fast as he is.

Val's prediction is accurate. The paper does give us full credit for the decorations and pictures the cupid arrangement with glowing comments about the fact that it's animated. Lamenting only that once cupid fires his arrow, it must be manually reloaded. Cary is howling with laughter when he and Tim come in from removing it the morning after the dance.

"The manager said he had to lock it in a closet cause a bunch of the guys got a little looped and kept playing with it. Told me one guy said if he'd caught cupid drawing back the bow when he was dating he'd of busted his damn arm."

As with any florist, we're swamped at Easter, then comes June and big weddings. I keep all of my part-time help on the run and hire a few more to help Tim on the jobs Cary passes to him. The first week of July I call a planning meeting of the crew and we start to discuss Christmas themes for the custom division. I'm already receiving inquiries and few early contracts, several from out of town. The coverage in the papers is beginning to pay off.

September is traditionally slow, so the crew all turn to on cleaning out and making room for the influx of Christmas material which has already begun to come in. Val maintains the most accurate inventory I've ever seen in a business like mine. We have a few run of the mill jobs and were it not for the fact that Tim and Cary have my best part time people making up Christmas stuff from artificial greens I'd have to lay them off for a few weeks.

Tim comes by the office one afternoon. "Randy, I know this is asking a lot, but could I bring a young man by for a few minutes Friday after he gets out of school?"

"Sure. Things are slow right now, so I'll have time to talk with him. What's this all about?"

I'm not prepared to see a high school kid in a chair when Tim wheels him into my office.

The kid struggles, but manages to raise his arm enough for me to shake his limp hand.

"I guess it's cause I can't do much of anything, but the junior class made me chairman of the decorating committee for the Halloween dance. I want something that looks great, a lot better than crepe paper streamers and punkins and that stuff."

Damn! Five hundred won't be enough to even make a showing in that cavern. I look at Tim and see him nodding at me.

"Let me talk to my people and see what they suggest, but I'm afraid your budget is awfully low for what I suspect you want."

"Please, sir. I know it's not much to a big firm well known as this one, but this is the first time the class has ever asked me to do something and I want to show 'em I can."

"I'll meet with my people and Tim can let you know if we decide we can help you."

He smiles. "Thanks, sir. It'll mess up their minds if I can tell them I got Stanton Creations to decorate."

Monday morning I gather the crew in my office and Tim explains. "I know this isn't a charity, but Jerry lives in the same building as I do, so I've gotten to know him. He has some type of degenerative condition and probably won't live long past high school. That's why I really want to help him have one big success to look back on. Randy, I'll give a week's salary to the kid's budget and work on my own outside business hours if you'll go along with this. I know we'll have some flowers and stuff past date that'll still look good for one night. We can use that for most of the work."

"This can be written off as good will, Randy, so you won't lose anything, and it'll be good advertising to people who don't really know us. I mean it's not like we're the usual retail operation where people pass by and buy flowers on impulse," Val adds.

I hold up my hands. "Okay, you guys, I'm sold. We haven't anything big going, so it's not going to make that much difference. What's the theme, Tim?"

"I talked Jerry into a harvest barn dance setting, so the kids can wear jeans. They'll start out with a couple of square dances then move on to the stuff kids that age like. He says the maintenance people will build a barn setting of old wood for a background for the band, so I'll use lots of corn in shocks, pumpkins, some mums, and stuff like that. I talked with Ted and he'll build us a big harvest moon that starts out as a new moon then gets fuller over a couple of hours until it's the only light. It'll make the kids feel like they're outdoors instead of in a gym."

"Not yet. When we've worked this out I'll contact the principal and teachers sponsoring the junior class."

Wednesday afternoon Jerry comes in accompanied by his principal and two teachers, introducing them to me.

"Jerry says you're decorating for our dance. If he's kidding me I'll kill him for wasting my time," the principal says by way of greeting.

Tim and Cary come in quickly and Tim lays out several sketches of the proposed decorations and explains the theme. The principal and teachers look delighted until the principal says, "I don't pretend to know anything about your business, Mr. Stanton, but there's no way you can do anything this elaborate for five hundred dollars."

"I have a feeling that without thinking Jerry's classmates assigned him something they thought he can't handle, but he's taken them seriously. Well some of us have physical challenges to overcome too, and we're not going to let him down. Five hundred will cover the basics, but the rest we're doing as a contribution to your school. In return Jerry is to receive all credit for the planning and Stanton Creations gets favorable mention in any publicity that might result," Tim says.

Tim looks at the teachers in charge of the dance. "Are any of the students on the decorating committee from farm families?"

"A lot of this is going to depend on their getting the corn for us. It'll take quite a bit."

"I'll have the entire group help. I'm sure one of the fathers will have a big truck to bring it to the gym."

"Excellent. We'll need at least two days to set everything up except for the flowers." Tim turns to the principal. "We will not be responsible for clearing the decorations out after the dance other than the things we're lending such as containers and the moon."

The afternoon of the dance I go by the school to take a look at what the guys have done. If it wasn't so light I'd swear I was in a barnyard. They've even found an old wooden horse trough and a pitcher pump and put it just below the 'barn' bandstand. A recirculating pump keeps water flowing from the pump into the trough which is surrounded by lush greenery just as it would be in real life. The moon hangs above the 'barn.'

"Mr, Stanton!" I hear a voice call. It's Jerry. He looks so excited he's tearful. "Thank you so much, Mr. Stanton. Nobody's gonna believe this tonight. We've kept it a secret and Billy's dad and his friends have a band that plays square dances. They're coming to play the first few and teach us how to dance like that."

"I'm glad you're happy with what you and my men have done, Jerry. Did the dance committee give you any grief over the theme?"

"At first, but some of them have been to parties you've decorated for, so when I told them who was doing it, it was fine. Some of 'em are still here. Let me call 'em." He manages to get two fingers in his mouth and gives a shrill whistle.

"Some of you didn't believe Stanton's was doing all this. Well, here's Mr. Stanton," he says proudly.

"Wow! Thanks a lot, man. My mom's not going to believe you really did this. She laughed when I told her who Jerry said he got."

"Yeah. My mother said you would never do a school dance," a beautiful girl says.

I smile at Jerry. "We don't ordinarily, but you have a very persuasive chairman."

The beautiful girl bends over and kisses him. "And you're gonna save the last dance for me."

"I'll show you, you can," she says. "We want you and your nice men to come tonight, Mr. Stanton."

I do drop by the gym about ten-thirty that evening, surprised to find the square dance band still playing, most of the kids are wearing jeans and plaid shirts and are dancing. "What happened?" I ask one of the teachers who came to my office.

"I wouldn't have believed it, Mr. Stanton. The kids are having the time of their lives and refused to let the band stop." She points to the moon which is now full and quite bright. "The moon is a stroke of genius; the kids can't get over it. The last dance is coming up so please stay and watch what the kids on the committee have planned."

After a brief break, the band starts a slow number. I see the girl from that afternoon push Jerry's chair to the middle of the floor and take his hand, moving slowly and gracefully around his chair as though he were twirling her, then still holding his hands sways before him in modified dance steps. A few minutes later the other students begin to move to the floor until all are dancing.

When the music ends, the husky boy jumps up on the bandstand and grabs the microphone. "A lot of you people asked who planned this dance and got it together. Well, you saw the chairman of the dance committee start this last dance with Darlene. Let's give Jerry Wilson a big hand for doing a great job."

The applause is deafening and Jerry is crimson when the spotlight picks him out.

The teacher I've been talking with takes my arm. "Thank you, Mr. Stanton. Your kindness has given Jerry something he'll always remember. He's such a sweet boy and he's been shut out of nearly every activity because of his condition. His parents are here and I want you to meet them."

She leads me over to the other side of the gym where a couple are about to push Jerry to the door.

I can tell the poor kid is exhausted. "We've got to get Jerry home," his father says, "but may I call you at home tomorrow or Sunday?"

Mr. Wilson comes by my house late Sunday afternoon, his face streaked with tears. He hugs me, then sits down. "I'm sorry, Mr. Stanton, but I had to do that." He looks up at me, tears about to flow again. "Jerry passed away last night. Until the very last he couldn't stop talking about how wonderful you and your people were to him and how many of the kids told him it was the best dance they'd ever been to." A quiet sob escapes and he wipes his eyes. "They asked him to be in charge of the Junior-Senior dance in May and he was thrilled."

"Thank you. We've known all along he probably wouldn't live to finish school, but it's no easier to take." He stands. "His mother and I will never forget the kindness you and your people showed our son."

"There are several of us here who would like to attend the service. Would you let us know?"

"It'll be at St. Andrews Presbyterian Church Tuesday afternoon at 2. It's going to be a simple service."

"I wish I could say yes, but we can't afford it. Jerry's illness has taken nearly everything we have."

"How can I refuse. Thank you seems so inadequate after all you've already done, but Jerry's mother and I thank you."

As soon as my people come in, I herd them into my office. I can tell from the expressions on Tim's face he already knows, but Cary is incredulous. "But he was laughing and looking forward to the dance when I left Friday afternoon," he says.

"None of us knew how sick that poor kid was," l tell him. "I've told Mr. Wilson we'll make the pall out of our respect for Jerry. Keep it simple and tasteful, but I want something he would have liked. You have any ideas, Tim? You knew him better than anyone else."

"Jerry had a small orchid plant in his bedroom. He asked me once how to make it grow better because he wanted to see it bloom so bad. I thought about that and here's my idea."

He passes me a sketch that knocks me out. Most people want lavish displays, but this is all huckleberry and fern, with four cattleyas forming a cross in the center with a single row of phalaenopsis reaching to each end of the pall.

I don't know who Tim had to murder, but the cattleyas are the largest I've ever laid my eyes on and the butterfly orchids seem in constant motion leading the eye to the center. There's none of the usual joking when I go in the shop to see it, just a respectful quiet.

"It's even more beautiful than I imagined it would be. Thank you guys." I tell them.

"We've voted, boss, and we all want to go and sit together," Cary says, "and Joyce wants to go with us."

The small church is already filled when we get there a full half-hour before the service is to begin and adults and schoolmates of Jerry's are standing outside where the sexton is busily setting up a speaker system. We're about to find a place to stand when the funeral director comes up and asks if we're from Stanton's, then he leads us to a pew directly behind the one reserved for Jerry's family. The moment we're seated, I see Tim nudge Cary and nod toward the casket. On a little table at the head is a small purple butterfly orchid with several buds and one bloom fully open. I know immediately this was Jerry's. It seems miraculous that it's bloomed for this moment.

Jerry's parents are seated and I see them look at the pall. Mrs. Wilson begins to cry softly and Mr. Wilson turns so he can look at us. "It's so beautiful, Jerry would have loved it," is all he says before the minister begins the service.

There are scriptures, prayers, and a few hymns. No eulogy beyond a brief comment about rising over adversity and contributing what Jerry could to his family and school then it's over. There is total silence as we leave the church a number of his classmates, male and female, wiping tears. I tell my people to go home and I'll go close the shop for the rest of the day.

We spend the rest of the week catching up for our busy season has begun. I desperately need more part-time help, but I have no response from the state employment commission office or the ad I put in the paper. Thursday afternoon, Mike, our part-time 'gopher' comes to my office, a school kid who looks to be his age with him.

"Jimmy wants to help out here. I'll leave him with you cause Cary's yelling for me."

"Cause you were so good to Jerry, and Mike says there isn't a better place anywhere. I don't know much, but I'm willing to learn if you can use a guy like me."

"I know you're too young to have any real experience, but the closer Christmas gets the more frantic it's going to become around here. Mike's going to need some help moving things and getting out supplies for my staff. Can you work afternoons and weekends until the week before Christmas?"

"Yes, sir, but I guess you better see this." He pulls his right hand from his pocket, but there's no hand, his arm ending at the wrist.

"Yes, sir. That's why I asked him to bring me here. I can't find a job anywhere else."

"No one here is going to care a bit about your arm, Jimmy, and you've got enough stump to be very useful. Still interested?"

He accepts what I'm able to pay and I tell him to come back tomorrow in jeans and ready to work.

The new issue of Florists World I find in my day's mail blows my mind. It contains a four-page article titled 'What next from Stanton?' We're described as innovators in the business and details how I've quietly built a first class operation. It ends by repeating the title: 'What next from Stanton?'" When I recover enough, I take the journal into Val's office.

He grins. "We didn't tell you, Randy, but a guy from Flowers Unlimited scouted us out a few weeks ago trying to hire all of us away from you. Cary and Tim threatened to pound his ass in the ground and kicked him out." His grin gets wider. "They're apparently losing people because of management problems. I guess he may have put the word out about us, because when World called me soliciting an ad, I told them we didn't need one, but I did take a small help wanted ad. I hope we get some response, cause we're going at top speed right now and can't keep up."

"I'm glad you placed the ad, Val. I did hire another 'gopher' to help Mike. He'll be in after school tomorrow."

"Good. Hire another, cause Tim's training Mike hard as he can. Mike can already do some basic stuff."

"Good Lord, I didn't know that. When Jimmy comes in ask him if he knows anyone else would like to work until Christmas."

Once more I have an urge to scream, Aaaargh! This time because of our need to find new and larger quarters for our operation.

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