Читать книгу Elly in Bloom - Colleen Oakes - Страница 13

The next morning, Elly sat at her desk, doodling with a green pen as she watched the girl she was interviewing take a swift nose dive into flames.

“I was a language student for a while, but I felt like that just wasn’t me. You know? I still do interpretive dance, which is kind of like a language in itself. So then I was into the traveling thing for a while. I toured Europe, stayed at hostels, met this totally amazing Spanish guy….”

Elly mentally checked out and started thinking about the chocolate mousse that she would be getting from Keith’s deli later that day. Unfortunately, she knew the minute she opened the door that this would not be her new hire. The girl came for her interview wearing purple leggings with a long band T-shirt over them. She was Elly’s third interview of the morning. The first woman was nice and polite, but barely spoke English; the second was a large, sweaty man who had misunderstood the ad—floral designers, he thought, had meant that he would be lifting things in a greenhouse. At least he had been interesting to talk to. This girl was making Elly want to bang her head against a wall. She forced herself to tune back in.

“… And I was like, ‘If you can’t respect my decision to not use deodorant—my lifestyle choice—then you don’t respect me.’ And Brazil isn’t just a dream. Paying for a flat isn’t as easy as it seems, but I have to have space for my dancing.”

“Thank you very much,” said Elly suddenly. “We’ll be in touch.”

She stood up and shook the girl’s hand. The girl looked bewildered. She walked her to the door, and breathed a sigh of relief when she was finally gone. Then she grabbed a stem of freesia and waved it around the girl’s now empty chair, filling the room with freesia scented mist.

Kim leaned around the corner, pale-pink anna roses in hand. Elly could tell she had been laughing.

“So,” she looked at Elly flinging the flower around, “how’s it going?”

“Oh, FINE. You know, I just interviewed a girl who asked if it would be okay if she brought her Kabbalah bracelet in to work to enhance the environment.”

Kim grinned. “Well, could she?”

Elly looked at her, annoyed. “Also, she smelled bad. Like patchouli.” She paused, thinking. “You know, you could just stay.”

Kim’s smile faded. “Don’t make me feel bad. You promised. It’s not my fault your ad was misleading.”

Elly launched herself into her chair and put her feet onto the desk. Owning your own business had its perks.

“Sorry. It’s just … I’m trying to replace YOU. You are perfect. You know everything. I would have died a million times without you here. I’m afraid the shop will fall down the minute you walk out the door.”

Kim walked over and kissed Elly’s forehead. “You are pathetic. You built this place, not me. Have some pride.”

Snarky Teenager stomped out of the back. “Um, Kim? This bucket has a leak in it. What should I do?”

Kim rolled her eyes at Elly and headed to the back. Elly didn’t know what Snarky Teenager would do without Kim. She worshipped the ground Kim walked on. She regarded Elly more like that bossy aunt she had to like because they were related.

Elly looked down at her day planner. Two more interviews today and a consultation with a mother of the bride. Fun times. Still, Elly felt buoyancy in her step today. She couldn’t stop replaying Isaac running his fingers along the edge of her chair on the balcony. His smile, his laugh, his dark curly hair. It was nothing, she told herself. He was just nice to you because you are his neighbor. There is nothing there. She told herself this, but she knew that he felt it too, this heat between them. Elly was wondering if she remembered how to kiss when the door clanged open for her next interview.

The woman who walked in resembled an angry little bird. She had long brown hair, a pointed nose and piercing gray eyes. She was smartly dressed in long white pants and a light, pretty red shirt with a green and blue scarf around her neck.

“Hi, I’m Elly,” she greeted the woman, extending her hand. The woman pulled Elly’s hand up to her lips and kissed it. Elly pretended that she wasn’t shocked and smiled.

“I am Ardelle Buche. Eet eez a pleasure to meet you.” A thick French accent was unmistakable. “I love your shoppe. Eet eez so darling, right next to this sandwich shop though, so unfortunate.”

Elly smiled politely. “Oh. They make great sandwiches. They have this meatball one—”

Ardelle waved her hand. “I don’t eat meat. It clouds ze mind as a designer, and you have to keep ze creative juices flowing.”

Okkayyyy, thought Elly. Ardelle looked appalled as Cadbury walked up to sniff her. She tried to shove him away, which resulted in Cadbury growling and she shrieked.

“Your dog zeems to have a problem. Will he bite me?”

I wish, thought Elly. She sat down at the desk, determined to gain the control back from this woman.

“So Ardelle, do you have any design experience?”

Ardelle snickered. “Oh my darling. Of course. I was schooled first at L’École des Fleurs in Paris where I studied under Madame Lorelai. Zen I traveled to New York, and became ze head flower designer for Divine Blooms for twenty years. Designing is what I do best. Eet eez truly an art form, pure and intellectual. I revere ze design properties of balance. I have studied color wavelength and theory. I am accredited in ikebana and advanced composition. I have brought my portfolio.”

“Oh, thanks.” Elly heaved the huge black book onto her desk. As she flipped through the pictures of wildly impressive arrangements, Elly tried to make conversation. She couldn’t deny that the woman had talent, but her insane radar was spiking off the charts.

“What made you want to get into floral designing?”

Ardelle sighed and brushed her bangs out her eyes. “When I first traveled through France, I was struck by ze life and ze culture of it all. The fields of lavender, ze delicate lines of a tulip … it was a miracle. Then, I saw how gifted I was as a designer and student. My teachers revered me, absolutely REVERED me. Zey said they had never had such a designer. My clients ask for me by name. I once made a small bouquet for the Queen of England. Can you imagine? And I never heard about it, no, not once, which was a shame. But, I figured, with all the things she has to worry about … why would she take ze time to call me? But of course, a thank you would have been nice.”

Elly looked up from her book and smiled. Ardelle looked at her. “Are you a designer, or do you simply work here in ze office? You do not look like you have a designer’s physique.”

A designer’s physique? Elly bit her lip to keep from laughing. Ardelle stood up and started pacing the room, waving her hanky at things.

“When I work here, you will want to move my station up by ze window. That way the adoring public can see my creations up close. It is very special for them to be able to watch a master at work. The dog will have to go. Zere is no place for such a hairy little creature in a place with true art. And I do have a minimum that I require for working. I simply cannot make anything beautiful for less than $300. It does not give me enough incentive to even pick up a … a daisy.”

She said “daisy” as if it were the most vile thing she could imagine. Elly envisioned herself shaking the woman.

“Well, Ardelle, thank you for coming in, but I do have another interview today—”

“Of course you do, darling, but I’m not worried. A place like zis could greatly benefit from my working here. It is a little close to the Jewish side of town, but, you know, zey have lots of money. I’ve done many arrangements for Hanukkah in silvers and blues. But you do mostly weddings, no? I feel zat brides are silly creatures; they really need to be told what zey want. Most of them don’t even know what they are doing. They should just stick to making babies.” Ardelle slapped her gloves against her hand. “Not that it is zeir fault. Not everyone is blessed with royal parenthood and uncanny intelligence. No, not everyone, but those of us zat have gifts must educate the masses. Yes. Did you know my home was once featured in Better Homes and Gardens?”

More like “Better Homes Than Yours,” Elly thought to herself, shaking her head. She felt like this woman had run her over with a truck. One rose scented Mack truck. Ardelle pointed to the arrangement on the counter.

“I think I would add some French tulips and apple blossoms to zis arrangement here. It’s absolutely dreadful. Yes, it could use ze touch of someone with exquisite gifts.”

There was the sound of a glass breaking in the back. Elly realized that Kim had been listening in. She needed to get this woman out of here, before Kim emerged from the back. Elly looked frantically at the woman’s lavender scented resume.

“It says here that you left Clayton Flowers last year. Why was that?”

She saw a small look of annoyance cross the woman’s face.

“Not that it matters much,” she fluttered her hands around her face. “Well, there was a girl who worked zere,” she dropped her voice to a whisper, “an illegal. I can only guess. She only spoke in Spanish and she smelled like burritos. She was cleaning ze studio and accidentally knocked over a beautiful pink teacup I had filled with roses. It was a work of art. Such a shame. Well, I lost my temper, totally to be expected after all ze hours I spent on it, and I hit her with a broom. Ze soft side. It was just against her cheek.”

Elly’s mouth dropped open. “After the police left—such a nice and handsome sergeant—Clayton Flowers was forced, truly forced, to let me go. Zey were devastated.”

Elly pointed to the door. “Please leave.”

Ardelle looked shocked. “You are not hiring me?”

“No,” Elly said, and she added kindly, “I just think someone with your talents would be better suited at a different shop.”

Ardelle walked up to her and stuck her fingers in Elly’s face and hissed. “You will be sorry. I am ze Julia Child of flowers. You have no idea what you are missing. This will not be last you hear of Ardelle Buche!”

This woman is insane, thought Elly.

“Okay.” Elly gestured to the door. “Thanks for coming in. I appreciate your time.”

Ardelle grabbed her designer bag and put her sunglasses on and faced Elly triumphantly. “Just so you know, I make every arrangement as if it is for Jesus Christ himself!”

And with that, Ardelle Buche trounced out the door. Cadbury growled at her heels. Elly blinked. What the heck just happened, she asked herself.

Kim practically ran out of the office, with Snarky Teenager on her heels.

“Oh my God, did that lady say that she hit someone with a BROOM?”

Elly grinned, “Yeah, but it was only on the cheek.” She shrieked with giggles and collapsed in a chair. “That woman was a RIOT. Can she be for real? As my mother used to say, ‘There is a mad woman living not in the attic, but on the main floor.”

Kim was shaking her head. “She slapped someone with a broom.”

Elly grinned maliciously, “I’m going to slap YOU with a broom if you don’t get back to work on the wedding for this weekend.”

Kim stuck her tongue out at Elly. “Do you have another interview now?”

“Mmm … no, I have a consultation with a Ms. Kepke at three,” she said, checking her appointment book, “and then another interview at five.”

Elly groaned. Ardelle had been amusing, but the whole hiring adventure had been a nightmare. She was at the point where she doubted she would find anyone that would work. It wasn’t just that the interviews had been a nightmare. Wedding season was now looming over her head—a violent storm hovering on the horizon. It was both fantastic and awful. Days that blended together into madness, endless phone calls, and lots of bride meltdowns. Yes, Elly was both dreading and anticipating wedding season. To make matters worse, training a new worker to design up to Elly’s level took months. She shook her head.

“I know someone,” Snarky Teenager piped up, her thin frame hidden behind Kim’s shoulder.

“I have a friend named Romy—well, she likes to be called Rom, like the disc drive, because she’s really into technology—anyways, she is looking for a job, and she is, like, super creative. She has these paintings that are, like, her finger markings in chocolate, but it’s supposed to be blood.”

“Thanks,” snapped Elly, rubbing her temples, “that’s a huge help. She sounds GREAT.”

Kim gave Elly an apologetic smile and ushered Snarky Teenager into the back while she jabbered on about her friend. Elly allowed herself one more aggravated sigh and then started setting up for her consultation.

First, she put a tall glass vase of colored poppies onto the table and laid out dozens of wedding books, all with elegant covers showing million-dollar weddings. Elly then laid out her consultation forms, calculators, and pens. Down onto the table went a tiny dish with petit fours, bottled water, and expensive crackers that no one ever ate. She turned on her stereo—a soothing mix of violin, piano, and Celtic choral hymns—and settled into her chair.

Consultations were one of her favorite parts of the job. It was fascinating to see the different ideas and visions that brides had for their weddings, whether it was crafty, Asian-inspired, stripes, rustic, or modern, the ideas always reflected the bride, and Elly loved being part of that picture. This, however, was a mother-of-the-bride coming in alone and those consultations were usually formal and tense, with the mother dictating every decision, and they usually ended up with flowers straight out of 1940. Elly grimaced. She heard footsteps coming up the patio. Baby’s breath, here we come, she thought. Her fingers drummed on the table anxiously.

The door opened and a beautiful older woman entered. Ashamed at the thought, Elly tried to quiet down the embarrassing voice in her head that screamed, “Be nice, this woman has MONEY.” But still, it was obvious. She had a sparkling tennis bracelet on her left wrist, and a diamond the size of a walnut on her right hand. Elly tried not to stare as its sharp clarity and emerald accents sparkled in the sun. The woman was stunning, and would have been so regardless of what jewelry she wore. She carried her elegance in her face. Her silver hair was pulled back loosely with a leather headband that matched the belt looped around her camel pantsuit. She glided across the floor, radiating light and ease.

“Hello. I’m Sunny Kepke.” She smiled brightly. Elly smiled back.

“It’s so nice to meet you. Please sit down. Help yourself to some water, petit fours, or crackers.”

Sunny reached out and grabbed all three and handed a cracker to Cadbury, who had planted his head on her knee. Elly immediately liked her.

“Well, let me tell you a little bit about Posies. We are a privately owned, independent floral shop. We cater to our client’s personality and style. It’s all about what you want, and not what we decide. We use the freshest flowers from all over the world, and we are known for our garden arrangements, but can do any style you desire. Our clients—”

Sunny put her hand lightly on Elly’s arm. “No need for the speech, dear. I know your flowers well. My best girlfriend, Meghan Bamber, sends me bouquets from you all the time.”

Elly knew Meghan. She was a sweet older lady who was one of their best clients.

Sunny continued, “I already know I want to book you for my daughter’s wedding. So, can we go from there?” She wiped the crumbs from her hand. Elly wanted to kiss this woman. “I will give you the basics and let you worry about the rest.”

Elly nodded, and began taking furious notes.

“My daughter’s wedding is at the Hotel La Vie on November 20. We are having approximately 250 guests. The ceremony will be in the hotel courtyard and the reception in their Amelia Ballroom. Our colors are seashell and metallic buttercup primarily, with thulian and pale-canary accents.”

Elly wrote down “white, gold, pink, and pale yellow.”

“We would like the main emphasis on the exotic, but also with some romantic blown-open garden flowers. Cattleya orchids—well, all orchids, really, garden roses, calla lilies, gardenias, peonies, and lisianthus. Other flowers are acceptable, but we want to keep the emphasis on these. I really love peonies.”

Elly nodded. “What were you thinking for the bouquets?” she asked.

Sunny smiled. “I was thinking all cattleya orchids for the bride, and then just a mix of flowers for the bridesmaids. I trust your artistic judgment there. There are a lot of bridesmaids. My daughter has many friends.” She paused. “There are thirteen of them.”

“Wow, that is a lot,” Elly responded. She looked down. “This sounds beautiful. Did you have an idea for the ceremony?”

Sunny pointed to a picture from the Martha Stewart magazine that showed a richly decorated church. Flowers poured from every surface.

“I think something like this. I completely trust your design instinct. I know you do beautiful work. There will be an arbor made of manzanita branches, and we would like that covered with orchids, but the rest will be up to you.”

Elly was shocked. No one had ever given her so much freedom in the designing. Normally, she spent hours on the phone discussing one corsage for an insignificant guestbook attendant. This was lovely new territory to explore.

“For the reception, we would like both tall and short centerpieces, using the garden flowers and the orchids. Lots of candles. My daughter also picked this out.”

Sunny pushed a picture across the table of a chandelier made up of huge billowy white flowers. Elly immediately recognized the picture; it was from the wedding of a rather popular talk show host. I wonder how to approach this next part, she thought. Budgets were always a sensitive subject, and brides’ desires were almost always bigger than their checkbooks.

“Sunny, I feel the need to tell you that this kind of arrangement is very, very expensive. There might be a way that we can mimic the style of it without you spending a fortune.”

Sunny frowned. “No, no, I want this. I’m not sure how much flowers cost—I’m kind of new at this—but, our budget is $45,000.”

Elly smiled and quickly calculated the normal percent of a wedding budget that covered flowers.

“Oh, sure. Well, $4,500 is a very healthy budget for flowers. But I don’t know that it will cover all that and this chandelier. Let me show you what else we can do—”

“No dear.” Sunny stayed friendly, even as she corrected her. “Our budget is $45,000 for the flowers.”

Elly thought she had misheard her. Forty-five thousand dollars for flowers? That was enough to feed a small country. That was enough to buy a couple of cars. That was enough…. Oh Lord, Elly thought, that would be enough to pay off my apartment. Completely. Stay cool. Don’t pee your pants.

She tried to recover, and not show her sudden elation. She hoped neon dollar signs weren’t lit up in her eyes.

“Well, that will definitely be enough for this chandelier, and anything else you want.”

“Wonderful!” Sunny cooed. “Well, should I write the check now or later?”

Elly was shocked. “Er, later. We’ll ask for a deposit, to cover the cost of the flowers once we’ve had a chance to price that out. But the remainder won’t be due until all services are rendered. To reserve the date on our calendar, we do ask for a small retainer now though. The money will be applied to your flower order. It will be $400.”

Sunny opened her purse and pulled out five crisp hundred-dollar bills.

“Well, here is the retainer, and a little extra for you. I’ll be in touch over e-mail with all the numbers and details in the next few months.” She bent over and kissed Elly’s cheek. “Thank you so much. I’m so glad to get you booked and have one less thing to do for Lucia’s wedding. I love your shop. It’s so … flirty.”

And with that Sunny Kepke exited, taking with her Elly’s last mortgage payment in her slim Prada pocketbook. Elly waited until Sunny had turned the corner, then she skipped to the back. Kim and Snarky Teenager were arranging coral roses, yellow tulips, and yarrow into silver buckets for that weekend’s wedding.

“Guess who just booked a $45,000 wedding for November?”

There was a stunned silence. There was no explosion of hugs or woops of joy, just humid air hanging over the room. Kim put down her arrangement.

“Forty-five thousand dollars? Are you serious? We can’t do a wedding that big.”

Elly pouted. “Why not? We can do it. I won’t take any weddings the week before … or maybe the week after. I can hire helpers. I can rent vans—”

Kim put her hand on her annoyingly lean hip. “Elly. I’m excited for you, but … that is a huge, huge wedding. The biggest we’ve done is … what?”

Snarky Teenager piped in. “The Yeadon wedding. Last year. That was what, $7,000? And you were a total wreck, remember?”

Elly suddenly remembered the chaos of that wedding. She flashed back to herself crying in a bathroom stall, holding a broken orchid, while Kim pounded on the door, and Snarky Teenager ran around sprinkling pink petals over everything. It had been utter chaos, and the memory hit her like a brick in the face.

“Oh my God, you’re right. What was I thinking?! What have I done? We can’t do this. Maybe Clayton Flowers could, but we can’t. We don’t have the resources. You are right. No way.”

Kim put down her arrangement and handed Elly a water bottle. Elly drank noisily; she was getting all worked up.

“I’ll just have to call her back. The mom. Sunny … ,” Elly trailed off.

Snarky Teenager snorted. “Her name is Sunny?”

Elly shot her a look. “Don’t be mean. She was very nice. You guys are right. It’s too big.” She gave a sigh. “The great thing is, it was enough to pay off my apartment and refurnish the store. That would be amazing.” Elly turned back to the front, her head hanging. There was a beat of silence, then Kim and Snarky Teenager clamored after her.

“We can do it! We can! It’s going to a nightmare.”

“TOTAL NIGHTMARE,” echoed Snarky Teenager.

Kim pulled Elly around to face her. “Forget our MANY doubts. We can try anyway! If this stupid wedding can pay off that little apartment of yours, then let’s do it. We’ll either be the best flower shop in town or go down in flames. Large, bursting flames.”

Elly threw her arms around Kim. Cadbury barked joyfully, caught up in the excitement. “I can do this,” said Elly into Kim’s hair. “Posies can do this.” She was caught up in the moment and pulled Snarky Teenager into a group hug. Elly could feel the girl’s body go rigid, as though she thought she would die of lameness.

They heard the front bell and all looked up, still wrapped around each other. A handsome older black man in his early fifties had entered the shop. He had white hair and slick glasses, and was wearing the heck out of some khaki linen pants and a pink silk shirt.

“Er, Hello. I’m Anthony. I’m here to apply for the designer position.”

Elly straightened up, her arms still around Snarky Teenager’s shoulders.

“Have you ever slapped someone with a broom?” she demanded.

Anthony looked appalled. “What? Oh, my heavens, no! Why would I do that?”

“Great,” said Elly, “You’re hired.”