“Exactly.” I pause, looking around the table again. Olivia fiddles with her engagement ring as she listens, a habit she’s picked up any time she gets nervous. A rock like hers would probably calm me down, too.
“I wanted to learn more about floristry, so I found a class they were doing on weekends at the college last semester, and one on evenings this semester. The first class was mostly about the business side of things, like sourcing flowers, caring for them, getting your shop up and running, that kind of thing. The one I’ve been taking on Monday and Wednesday evenings has been more about floral design and arrangements.”
“That sounds right up your alley,” my mom says encouragingly.
“It really is,” I agree. “I’ve been giving a lot of thought to what I might want to do with everything I’ve been learning, and it’s gotten me thinking about how Port Myles doesn’t have a florist shop. The nearest one is in Harrisford, which isn’t far, but there’s an opportunity here.”
“You’ve really been thinking about this for a long time,” my dad grumbles.
“I have, and I’m sorry,” I tell him honestly. “I’ve been watching real estate listings for a few months now and not much has come along, until Mr. Davis’ place went up for sale.”
“That place is massive,” Aiden finally chimes in.
“It is. Which is why Mr. Davis and I met earlier today to work out a deal for me to lease half of the space. He’s going to lease the other half to a couple guys who are planning to open…” I trail off, realizing I have no idea what kind of business the guys I met briefly plan to open. “I’m actually not sure,” I admit. “But Mr. Davis is willing to lease instead of sell if we handle whatever renovations are needed ourselves.”
“You’d be running this place by yourself?” my dad asks.
“I will, but hopefully not for long. I might be a one-woman show for a bit, but I’m hoping to hire at least one, maybe two people to help me out. Depending on how successful we are, it would be nice to have someone, or a couple of someones, who can help me with the day-to-day orders and arrangements, but maybe some of the business side of things, too. I don’t want to be stuck at a desk all day.” I glance at my dad, sheepish. “No offense.”
He studies me, his eyes raking over my face like he’s searching for something. “You’re sure about this?”
I nod, though my confidence feels shaky.
Am I sure about this?I’m sure that if I don’t at least try to make this dream a reality, I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering what could have been. And I don’t want that for myself.
“I’m sure,” I finally say. “I know it won’t be easy, but I want to give it a real shot. Which means…” I trail off, searching for the right words to tell him, in no uncertain terms, that I’m going to be quitting my job.
“You’ll have to leave your job at the store,” my mom says matter-of-factly.
I nod again, glancing back at my dad. He looks less upset now, at least. More contemplative than hurt.
“I’ve got to be honest,” he begins, “I wish you’d been upfront about this all along. Not because I’m upset you’re quitting,” he assures me, “but because I thought we’d raised you to know that you can always come to us to talk about whatever is on your mind.”
He stops for a moment, clearing his throat. “If this is what you want, then I want this for you, Else. Even if I’d gladly have you working by my side for as long as you’d like to be there.”
The pang in my chest is so swift, it nearly knocks the wind out of me. I’d been so worried about hurting my family, disappointing my dad, that I didn’t stop to consider the fact that they have always, unequivocally and without reservation, loved and supported me. I really don’t know how or when I turned into this person who carries the weight of everyone’s expectations – real or imagined on my part – so heavily on my shoulders. When did I start letting my fear of disappointing people rule my every decision? Have I always been this way?
“I’m sorry, Dad. I was worried you’d be disappointed, or angry with me for leaving you hanging at the store, or that you’d think this wasn’t a good idea. And that’s on me, not you. I should have known you’d support me, just like you always have.”
“Damn right I will, kid,” he says gruffly. He pushes his chair back and stands, rounding the table to where I sit at the other end. I stand and let him pull me into a hug, an act so familiar I can’t help but wonder how I thought, even for a moment, that his reaction would ever be anything but this.
“Let me in,” my mother says, sliding her arms around us both.
“Hey, us too!” Georgia cries. I hear her chair scrape back and her feet pad across the floor before another set of arms is flung around us.
“Do I have to?” Aiden groans from his seat at the table.
“Get over there, you little punk,” Olivia chides.
I hear a deep sigh before my brother makes his way over to us. With so many arms wrapped around me I can’t feel when he joins in, but I hear a grumbly, “Happy now?” from somewhere above my head.
“You Carmichaels really give a girl with mommy and daddy issues some shit to talk about in therapy,” Grace jokes loudly.
“You can join in,” my sister tells her. Georgia worships Grace and always has. I accepted long ago that thecool older sistertitle isn’t mine to hold.
“Group hugs are not my jam, but I appreciate the thought,” Grace tells her.
As we break apart, it occurs to me that Olivia has been suspiciously quiet tonight. When I look over at her, she’s still twisting that ring round and round on her finger. I’d thought she was nervous forme, but now I’m wondering if it’s something else. As if sensing me staring, she looks up and meets my eye.
