AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But looking conventional and fitting in the groove never bothered me much.
Gran said that a woman’s gift of beauty comes from the inside... that her skin is just wrapping paper. I’m not sure if I’m beautiful inside, but I do try to be good, if that’s the same thing.
My gaze lands on the locked glass cabinet where Gran’s four antique vases are showcased, a place of honor for all she did for us. When she passed six months ago, she left Parker and I equal shares in her house. We suddenly had opportunities we’d never seen coming. Neither of us knew that she even owned her own home. Little did we realize what she had accumulated with her careful housekeeping.
Despite the tough love she dished out, I’m heartbroken to have lost her. I was ten years old when we lost Mom, and not having a dad on the scene, Gran had brought my brother and I up. She was the one who urged us to follow our dreams, no matter the obstacles that stood in the way.
She’d shaped me—given me strength—polished the diamond within.
If you don’t try your hardest, you’ll never be happy with yourself.Those words were her mantra, and I took them to heart.
I’m so grateful to her for giving me this chance.
I’m afreakingbusiness owner! That means something. And I’m going to do all I can to make a success of it.
I’m doing this for me.
I’m doing it for Gran.
And I’m doing it for Mom.
As I pass the mirror, I notice my hair is no longer set in smooth waves, but very frizzy. It looks a bit messy. I pull a face at myself. Damn the high humidity in here. I pull it back, fixing it neatly in a high ponytail.
Dropping my butt on the flower sofa, I hug a tulip pillow. This flower couch is for customers to sit on while I’m arranging their bouquets. I’ve even provided a mini beverage station for their convenience.
I love Bouquets. Everything about it.
The only thing which could have been better is the location.
Bridgeton is not the best. But it’s not the worst, either.
And people will always want flowers wherever they live.
That’s a fact.
I walk to the front door and look out the thick glass. A couple of people walk past, totally oblivious to my presence. Is everyone too busy to even notice the new shop on the block?
I had few choices within my budget. What really swung it for me was the modest price tag; the position of the store on a busy route to downtown Portland and the apartment upstairs where I can crash of an evening.
It takes me seconds to get to work. That’s a bonus, if nothing else.
Yesterday, my first shipment of flowers arrived. I arranged a few, and they are sitting in the window bays to lure customers inside.
I admire the displays again, making minor adjustments to them. They certainly make a splashy statement. I’ve done all I can in doorstep appeal—just needing some customers now.
I rearrange the flower magazines on the coffee table and brush a speck of green fern frond from the furniture.
By 1 pm, I’ve had less than a trickle of interest. Only half the trickle has bought anything from me. I have the total of fifty dollars in my spanking new till.
But as Gran would say, one dollar is better than none.
I continue my pacing around the shop as the hours tick by. By three pm, I’ve sold one more bouquet. I’m impatient to work. I’m the type who likes to keep busy. I hate hanging around—it sucks.
My brother texts me he’ll be dropping by shortly. He’s had some last-minute chores to do, but he’s on the way now. That’s good, because I need a sounding board for my opening day woes.
I check out my vase of roses, examining the black frosting on the deep red furls. Black Magic are my absolute favorite roses. There’s an unearthly beauty about them.
In my peripheral vision, I see a flash of white car whip past the window into one of the parking bays as Parker’s new wheels arrive. I bought a shop, he bought a car. But horses for courses. I check everything over once more, as I wait for him to come inside. He’s not seen the finished article yet, and I can’t wait to see his face.
