Tulips of Yellow

Prologue: I Would Like to Call It Beauty

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"Welcome to Nina's."

The rain slamming against the side of the building muffled her voice, yet did nothing to the merriment it held. The old woman, plump with a head full of gray curls smiled brightly at him. Her mood was clearly unaltered by the weather outside that seemed to be affecting everyone else in the city. Sitting on her stool, she leaned over the table in front of her, trimming the stems from a batch of red roses.

Don Flack did his best to return the smile yet held high awareness in the fact that his existing disposition would falter the attempt. The rain, on top of pulling a double straight from the night shift, was leaving him bitter, a mood not suitable for light conversation. Breaking his gaze from her, he looked around the store he had just entered.

The recommendation had come welcomed from Danny, who had apparently made quite a few trips to the floral shop during his relationship with Lindsay. With his sister's birthday approaching and their relationship improving, Flack opted for flowers instead of another cleverly mixed CD.

The shop was small; a box shaped of a room with tables carrying flowers lined in the center. Displays along the wall held more, each hue blending with the next to create a spectrum of shades stretching as far as his eyes could see. He moved past the first few tables, glancing at some of the flowers that lay peacefully in place. He mentally noted that his lack of flora knowledge disabled any further classification other than color.

Looking ahead, he made his way past the remaining tables in plan of finding the cashier. It was only then that he noticed the strong aroma entering is nose. Feeling a headache already coming along, Flack let out a sigh, wondering if cats were the only things he had to worry about from now on.

Finding the desk at the back of the store, he moved to it, disappointed to find no one standing behind it. He looked back towards the front at the old woman still working her way through the stems. She seemed too content in her current position to be liable for the lack of cashier at that moment.

Turning back, he noticed the small bell placed next to the register. Taking his chances of what it would do to his headache, he inelegantly smacked his hand on it twice, hoping to bring its attention to the missing worker.

"Just a minute." The voice was clouded, coming from the door that led to the back to the store.

With another sigh, Flack leaned on the table, his aggravation growing. Figuring that buying flowers for someone when you were in a bad mood probably wasn't the best idea but he couldn't see any other free time ahead in his schedule so he overlooked his better judgment.

Finally, the door opened, revealing the faceless voice who earlier only added to Flack's headache. He had however, now been facing her, taking in an appearance that he had not been prepared for.

Her descent was unknown to him, maybe originating from an Asian or mixed background. Her light caramel skin flowed like silk along her round face. Her raven black hair was thick, creating a natural volume that other woman would undoubtedly envy, as it hung past her face and lightly brushed the top of her shoulders. The deep blond streaks contrasted heavily with the black, creating for an exotic yet elegant style, or at least in his opinion. Her deep brown eyes, slightly slanted yet still relatively large looked at his as she ran a hand over her face to remove a piece of hair that fell right back to where it was.

"How can I help you?" Her voice was different; it held a natural hoarseness yet still held every ounce of femininity.

His eyes held hers intently fashioning a strong gaze that neither could break. "A friend of my told me you guys have some sort of birthday bouquet special?" he asked rather than stated. His conversation with Danny was slowly becoming a fading memory as he watched the woman in front of him.

There was a small chuckle incorporated with the nod of her head as she reached for a clip board off to the side of the register. She broke her gaze from his for the first time as she looked for a pen.

Finding it, she looked back at him, a smirk playing on her lips as her eyebrows rose ever so slightly. "Girlfriend, right?" she asked in the voice that Flack slowly was becoming too captivated with.

His eyes followed the dance hers seemed to be performing as he managed to find the smile that was lost just moments ago. "Actually, it's my sister. Her birthday's next week."

She chuckled again. "Wow, that's a first," she commented. "Well, if its next week, they should arrive on time."

"Should?" The word stood out to Flack as the woman smiled somewhat bashfully.

"Call it an educated assumption. I don't work here. I'm just filling in for a friend while she's recovering from a cold." The explanation ended in a sigh leaving her evident enthusiasm for the shop to mirror Flack's. "What do you what them to say?"

Confused at her question, his thick Irish eyebrows rose above his eyes, sheltered in their blue intensity. "Them?"

For the third time in the five minutes he'd been standing there, she chuckled. "The flowers. What do you want the flowers to say?"

"You mean other than happy birthday?" The sarcasm came ever so naturally.

She rolled her eyes playfully as she moved from the behind the counter. Her height became known to Flack as he looked down at her much shorter figure. He seemed to be a whole foot over her as she began to walk towards the table closest. Taking it was a cue to follow; he trailed behind her as she nodded her head in the direction of the table.

"Flowers have different meanings based on type and color. If you want to send a certain message, you pick ones that correlate to want you want to say to a person," she explained, her small hand moving lightly across the edge of the table while the other held the clipboard to her chest.

"Like red roses mean love or something right?" he replied, a smirk playing on his lips as she chuckled once more.

"Exactly," she stated. "Red roses mean passionate love but I'm guessing that's not the message you want to send your sister," she added with a laugh, revealing a seemingly perfect set of white teeth.

Flack laughed lightly along with her. "Not exactly," he said in agreement. "What would you recommend?"

She thought for a minute, chewing on her bottom lip. "Younger or older?"

"She's younger." He watched her curiously as she picked up one of the flowers in front of her.

"Ginger. It means proud. I'm going to go with your proud of having her for a sister," she stated, handing it to him.

She continued to walk along the table, as she eyed another one. She stood on the tips of her toes as she reached for one on the other side. Grabbing two, she preceded to hand them to him.

"Jasmines represent grace and elegance, something a woman would like to have said about her. If you're going for the whole 'I'm a great big brother who loves you', they'll play into that."

Flack nodded in agreement, a seemingly permanent smirk on his face as he again followed her to a different table. He noted how her hair swung like a steady pendulum behind her neck as she walked.

"A black-eyed susan for encouragement and a pink carnation for gratitude," she continued. "All surrounded by marigolds." She grabbed a handful of what he presumed were the aforementioned.

"What do they mean?" He labeled his curiosity as the reason for the question.

"They're the flower for the month of October. Since her birthdays in October, I figure they make a nice touch," she said with a slight hunch of her shoulders.

Flack watched her for a moment before speaking. "How is it that you seem to know so much about flowers yet don't work here?" His eyebrows again rose.

She laughed as she set the clipboard down on the nearby table. "No idea," she answered as she moved to take the bunch of flowers that he was now holding. The movement caused her hand to brush against his.

The feel of her soft skin against his created a feeling within him that he hadn't felt in a long time and he did his best to ignore it. He just watched as she took the flowers along with the board back to the front of the store. The strong aroma of the store seemed to pale in comparison to the sweet smell of vanilla that he detected as he once again followed her to the back of the store.

She moved to sit on the stool behind the desk. She wrote some things down before looking back at him. "Name?"

"Don Flack." His eyes watched as she wrote down the name and then looked back at him. She handed him the clipboard and the pen.

"Just right down your sister's address, the date you want them delivered, and the message you want on the card."

He did as he was told, scribbling down the necessary information. When he was done, he handed it back to her and watched as she read over it.

"Love Don," she read aloud. "That's deep," she added jokingly.

Flack laughed as she removed the sheet from the clipboard and placed it in a pile. "You have something better for me?"

"Not really. You seem like a 'love Don' kind of guy. I'm pretty sure anything else what seem out of character." Her smile seemed infectious has her gaze held his own.

"Is that a bad thing?" His natural charm trickled out from the tone of his question.

"Not at all." The reply came simply as the lingering of her voice in the air held more connotations.

His eyes remained on hers as he reached in his back pocket for his wallet, noticing how her eyes followed his movements. His dark coat must have opened slightly as evident in her next question.

"You're a cop?" Her eyes lingered on the gold glistening from his belt momentarily before meeting his.

He couldn't read the expression behind the brown orbs. "Detective," he answered, handing her a few bills.

"Oh," was all she said.

He planned to question it more as her disposition had changed slightly in the discovery of his occupation but the familiar shrill of his phone sounded.

He excused himself and flipped it open. "Flack."

"Hey Flack. I'm gonna need you to come back in. High profile homicide…a judge."

Flack replied as he needed to at his captains request. He hung up the phone and looked back in front of him.

"Work?" Her brown eyes questioned.

He figured it wasn't that hard for her to figure out. "Yeah. Thanks for the help." He did his best at a smile but the forthcoming hours were already putting a damper on his spirit.

He was in the middle of moving towards the door when she called out to him.

"You want your change?"

He took one last look at her, shaking his head. "Keep it."

Reaching the door, the old woman looked at him. "Thanks for coming."

As before, the smile couldn't be produced. Stepping back into the rain brought reality back. The loud noises of the streets, the smell of the smog, and the murder about six blocks from where he stood. The abrupt absence of the flower shop removed any sense of calm and normalcy his day would undoubtedly encompass.

It was then he realized that he never even got her name.

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Author's Note: Thank you in advance for anyone who reads. Reviews, thoughts, ideas, or anything else is welcomed.

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to CBS.