White Offerings by Ann Roberts

her past, which included a string of one-night stands and lost weekends. They rarely talked about her great familiarity with the lesbian bar scene. It was a topic they avoided, just like her drinking. She wished that Molly could give up alcohol as easily as women.
    “Hey, sorry. That was a cheap shot.”
    “I take it you don’t like Molly.”
    “No, she’s cool.”
    Ari decided not to pursue the subject, and they said little else until they pulled into a small parking lot next to a Victorian house, which had been zoned for a business. It was blue with white trim. A low roof, wide eaves and ornamental brackets added to its unique character. A hanging wooden sign painted with a giant marigold and
Cavanaugh Flowers
swung slightly in the light fall breeze. Flowers grew everywhere around the porch, and Ari could see a greenhouse in the back.
    When they entered, a bell tinkled above the door. A short, stout woman overdue for retirement stood behind the counter, bundling roses and wrapping them in cellophane. “May I help you?”
    The woman’s broad smile conveyed true warmth, and Ari suddenly doubted this sweet little shop had anything to do with Jane’s orchid dilemma.
    Biz nodded and set her hands on the edge of the counter. “Are you Mrs. Cavanaugh?”
    “That’s me.” The woman grinned.
    Biz returned the smile. “Well, I hope you can help me. I’m looking for someone who grows rare orchids. Do you?”
    Mrs. Cavanaugh nodded proudly. “We do. We have an incredible greenhouse in the back. Are you looking for a specific kind?”
    Biz pulled out a picture of the elephant orchid and the woman recognized it immediately. “Yup, we’ve got it. It’s very rare, but I’m proud to say we’ve been successful.”
    “Have you sold any lately?”
    She frowned and shook her head. “No, there’s not much call for these flowers for sale. They’re mainly show flowers, and that’s what we do with them.”
    “So no one has come in asking to buy them?”
    “No. We haven’t sold a single one in a long time.”
    Biz looked around and glanced at Ari. “I see. What about phone calls? Has anyone made inquiries?”
    Mrs. Cavanaugh thought for a moment and shook her head again. “Nope, not that I can recollect.”
    Biz sighed and stuck her hands in her back pockets, as if realizing the shop was a dead end. “I don’t suppose you know anyone named Jane Frank?”
    “Only Jane I know is my Aunt Jane, and she’s been dead for twenty years. Say, what’s with all the questions? Normally people just come in here to buy flowers, but I don’t think that’s your intention, is it, young lady?”
    Biz smiled crookedly. “No, ma’am. I’m actually looking for a long-lost friend who grew orchids here in Phoenix.”
    Mrs. Cavanaugh studied Biz, apparently assessing where the truth began and ended in the story. “Lots of people grow orchids.”
    “But not this kind,” Biz said. “And that’s my only connection to this woman named Jane. I don’t have a lot else to go on.”
    Mrs. Cavanaugh eyed her shrewdly. “I wish I could help you, young lady, but I don’t know a Jane, and we haven’t had any inquiries about our flowers.”
    “Is this your family business?” Ari thought to ask. “I think I’ve noticed it here for a long time.”
    “Twenty years,” Mrs. Cavanaugh said. “It belongs to Mitch and me. Anything else I can help you with? Maybe interest you in some daisies?”
    Ari and Biz shook their heads and waved good-bye.

    Mrs. Cavanaugh watched them go, a slight smile on her face. She had learned long ago how to protect her customers and her employees. She only looked simple-minded. She had no idea what those women were after, but she always knew it was best to keep her cards close to her chest.
    “Who was that?” a voice said from the back.
    She turned toward the voice. She so enjoyed it when her “adopted” niece came by. “Hi. I didn’t hear you come in.”
    “I just got here. I didn’t want to interrupt