Florist first

You decide you can take care of the florist and caterer, and pick up a little take-away to bring home for a late lunch.

The florist's is in a big brick warehouse next to the railroad tracks which used to be an ice factory in decades past. The rusty, convoluted pipes of the ice works still stick out the back of the building. You park your sports car in front -- thankfully no longer gravel -- and stride into Ebihara and Nardi Wholesale Florists.

The company is run by a Japanese and Italian family -- once separate family florist businesses -- that started intermarrying about 30 years ago and are now thoroughly mixed up. Inside, it's a vast, cool, moist building lit by fluorescent spotlights. You ask about your order, and a staff member -- her nametag says Maria Ebihara -- takes you back to the cold room. Bouquets, table decorations, corsages, centerpieces, side arrangements -- all in order. You breathe a sigh of relief. Maria introduces you to her cousin Akira Nardi, a young man, small but compactly strong, who will be in charge of delivery and set up. You smile at him and say the flowers are beautiful, and you'll look forward to thanking him personally tomorrow. He asks if you have any questions or special instructions for tomorrow.