Wake-Up Calls

By Connie Gaertner

As the new employee at Watsons Flowers, seventeen-year-old Krista knows she has to concentrate on her job and not on the party she is missing at Bayside Beach on Lake Huron. But all she really wants is to have a summer romance with Jeff Wellington, a fellow student, golfer extraordinaire, and well-known jerk.

As Krista ignores Jeffs rather unsavory reputation and immerses herself in lively summer boating and beach adventures with him, she also gets to know her coworkersMario Watson, the owners son and a handsome college student who tests Kristas feelings for Jeff, and Cheyenne, a bizarre and moody girl who seems to know everything about everyone. Even though she is crazy about Jeff, Marios eyes beckon Krista into his life. But it is not long before Krista realizes Mario is dealing with his own set of problems. Torn between two suitors with vastly different personalities, Krista must decide which one is right for her.

In this young adult story, a teenager must balance a new job with the possibilities of romance as she learns to trust her heartand her intuitionto lead her to her destiny.

...a rarity among todays YA offerings. Kirkus Reviews

Four Stars. ForeWord Reviews (Clarion Review)

Teens who enjoy romance novels will thoroughly enjoy Wake-Up Calls. ForeWord Reviews (Clarion Review)

a realistic story with complex characters. BlueInk Review

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jan 11, 2013
• ISBN: 9781475966473

Connie Gaertner

Connie Gaertner is a former co-owner of flower shops and greenhouses in Michigan. After spending many summers sailing and boating on Lake Huron, she now happily resides in Marco Island, Florida.

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Copyright © 2013 by Connie Gaertner

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-4759-6646-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-6647-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012923769

iUniverse rev. date: 1/8/2012

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

In memory of my mother, Harriet Roush

CHAPTER 1

First Job

T he buzzing alarm irritates me. Reluctantly, I struggle out of my warm bed. My stomach is in knots. Today I start my new job. Dad says it will be a good learning experience for me, and I want to please him. Mother, however, has been quiet about it.

This afternoon my friends are going to Bayside Beach on Lake Huron to swim and party without me. What a bummer. Jeff will be there, and I think he likes me. But Marcie will be there too, and I think she has her eyes on Jeff. Not good.

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Arriving at my new job an hour later, I push open the heavy glass door of the local flower shop as the new employee at Watson’s Flowers, Inc. The door closes behind me with a jingle of bells announcing my arrival. A decal on a wall states, Say It with Flowers. I pretend the flowers are saying, Calm down and good luck. Forget about the party.

As I look around, I see several buckets of red roses and many wildly colorful arrangements in a flower cooler. Fuzzy teddy bears are displayed haphazardly on glass shelving. I readjust a soft brown one and give its fat tummy a squeeze. It’s comforting to look at the bears, and I smile for the first time today.

A lady bustles down a half flight of stairs. May I Help You? is written in bold white letters on her dark-green apron. I’ll be right with you, she says as she puts a shiny yellow corsage box on a shelf in the cooler.

I force myself to concentrate on my surroundings. I refuse to think about Jeff and the party.

You must be Krista, she says. Her voice reminds me of my third-grade teacher.

Yes, ma’am, I reply. I can feel my heart beating faster.

I’m Mrs. Watson. You may call me Sophia. We’re really swamped. Follow me and I’ll find an apron for you.

It feels awkward to address the owner by her first name, but I do. I follow her into a back design room. It appears chaotic, filled with cluttered counters and shelves holding bolts of ribbons, order pads, racks of cards, and even an open box of chocolates. The walls are bright yellow and covered with signs, price lists, and posters of flower arrangements. I see a poster with daisies that would look great on a wall in my bedroom. I continue to look around and see bunches of dried flowers and wicker baskets hanging from the ceiling. Petals, leaves, and stems litter the floor.

I live in a very orderly home where even the pillows on the sofa are placed exactly like the pictures in my mother’s magazines. I sometimes get paranoid when I sit in the living room. This flower shop is the opposite of my home.

Here’s a broom and an apron. No time to chat right now. There’s the dustpan and trash barrel, Sophia says as she sorts through a pile of orders.

When Dad dropped me off, he patted my hand and said, Go in there, be friendly, and do what they tell you to do.

Okay, Dad, I think to myself. I still feel nervous, but I grab the broom and dustpan.

While I sweep the floor, two different phones ring and the bells on the front door jingle. Background music adds to the commotion.

I hear a door in the back of the shop open and slam shut. A huge cardboard shipping box comes around a corner toward me. Somebody wearing a University of Michigan cap is hidden behind it.

Are the buckets ready? Let’s get this shipment into water, a male voice says. He plunks the heavy box down. Without giving me a chance to reply, he says, You must be new. Never mind, I’ll show you what to do.

As he emerges from behind the box, I immediately notice the guy’s thick eyelashes and penetrating dark eyes. There is no time to stare, however; we start to lug, sort, cut, fill, and shift. I had no idea flowers needed so much care.

My name is called from the front of the store. I apologize to the guy for the interruption; I’m not one to walk out on a half-finished job.

As I leave the flower processing area, Mr. Penetrating Dark Eyes says, You’re a good worker. This place can be a madhouse, but you’ll get used to it. By the way, my name’s Mario Watson. Sophia’s my mom.

I smile at him. Hi, Mario. My name’s Krista. Our eyes lock for a split second. Suddenly the party at Bayside Beach is no longer important. I love this job! Next time I’ll feel different when my alarm clock goes off.

CHAPTER 2

Visiting Marcie

I ’m actually still sad that I had to miss last Saturday’s beach party, where I would have seen Jeff. I find it difficult not to think of him at times. However, at work I find it difficult not to think of Mario.

I’m off work today and spending the day at Marcie’s house. Her brother, Brad, and Jeff are friends. As I’m getting a soda from her fridge, Brad and Jeff barge in from outdoors. I feel my cheeks flush when I look at Jeff. He smiles at me with one of those silly guy grins. For some reason, he nods. I don’t know what it means; however, he appears to be acknowledging a connection between us.

I missed you at the party last weekend, Krista. We had a blast, Jeff says.

I really wanted to be there, but I started my new job at Watson’s Flower Shop.

There’s another party this Saturday. Are you going to show up, or is your little job going to keep you away? Jeff says sarcastically.

Hey, don’t be hard on her, says Brad. At least she’s earning money. Not that you’d ever have to. I’m glad Brad is sticking up for me. Marcie’s lucky to have such a nice brother.

If I don’t have to work, I’ll be at the party, I tell Jeff.

Brad interrupts. Jeff, that was a long golf shot you had today on number seven.

I didn’t think my ball would go that far, Jeff says. He opens a can of soda and continues. That was cool when it ricocheted off the cart belonging to the ladies playing in front of us. Bam, bammity, bam.

You really should’ve waited to hit your ball, says Brad in a scolding tone.

Jeff laughs. Man, it was fun listening to the old bags get pissed off.

I smile at the conversation. I’ve heard Jeff gets out of line at times. Oh well, I think, he’s a guy.

Your old man will hit the roof if he finds out, says Brad.

Both of the boys laugh again as they leave the kitchen.

Show up on Saturday, Krista! Jeff yells as the screen door slams behind them.

I walk into the family room, where Marcie is sorting pictures.

Jeff’s easy to look at, I comment.

You’re right, she answers. Look at this picture taken up north. It’s Jeff laughing after he ran a boat up on shore. That’s Brad with him.

Jeff’s sun-bleached hair is almost covering his eyes. He has a careless and devastating look about him. The boat, which is against a rock, has a dent in its bow.

I can feel Marcie studying me. You really like him, don’t you, Krista?

How can a girl not like him? I imagine every girl at our school dreams about him.

Not me.

You’re kidding! A feeling of relief sweeps over me. I really thought Marcie was interested in Jeff.

She hesitates and says, Jeff has a reckless streak in him, and he’s not the type of person I want to date. Someday someone is going to be hurt. She keeps sorting through pictures. You’re so conservative, Krista. I didn’t think a guy as wild as Jeff would appeal to you.

Oh, Marcie, you’re exaggerating.

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A bit later I leave Marcie’s house. I didn’t tell her about meeting Mario at the flower shop. I just want to have a summer romance. I’m uncomfortable going to a gathering alone. I suppose it’s a weakness on my part. I’ve noticed girls without a date often talk loud and laugh hard. Maybe they’re pretending they’re having a good time. I know I shouldn’t be critical of them though. Some girls would rather be with each other than contend with a date.

I’m attracted to two totally different guys right now. From what I know, Mario appears to be the opposite of Jeff. I decide I don’t want anyone to know about Mario. He’s older and probably in control of his life. Jeff seems full of fire and action. I think Jeff may be more fun.

CHAPTER 3

Cheyenne

I push hard on the heavy glass door going into the flower shop. Sophia is behind the counter. Good morning, Krista. Are you ready for a busy day?

I certainly am. Thanks again for hiring me.

She smiles and nods. Follow me. I want you to meet Cheyenne.

I walk into the back design room. The floor is already littered with stems and leaves. I’m sure it was swept the day before. To my surprise, I see a strange-looking girl wearing a wild, pink-and-orange flowered skirt, a black striped shirt, a man’s necktie, knee-high pink socks, and patent-leather shoes with a strap across the ankle. Her hair’s red and spiky, and she’s chewing gum. Mother hates to see me chewing gum.

Krista, I’d like you to meet one of our floral designers, Cheyenne, says Sophia.

Cheyenne gives me a surly look, cracks her gum, and greets me in an unfriendly tone.

Hi, Cheyenne. Nice to meet you, I