Elly nodded and wiped her face with her sleeve. “Thanks. It’s nice of you to notice.”
Kim, she noted, was simply glowing, her perfectly freckled skin radiating light and warmth. Elly mentally punched her. “Well, at least I don’t have tulip dirt in my hair.”
Snarky Teenager, her other employee, walked into the work area, grabbed some Marguerite daisies out of Elly’s bucket and left.
“You’re welcome,” Elly called after her.
Snarky Teenager poked her head around the corner. “You’re welcome for what? For doing my job? I should thank you for letting me do my job? Whatever.”
She stomped to the back, her bright pink bra blazing through her sheer shirt. Kim rolled her eyes and mouthed, “Boyfriend drama.” Elly shook her head, exasperated, and wandered to the front office where she sank heavily into her oversized chair. Her damp blond hair stuck to her face. It was only April, but it already felt like the hottest month ever. The back room of the shop wasn’t air conditioned and even with fans blowing every which way (which resulted in having make-out hair – even though everyone knew there was none of that going on), the heat seeped into her body like a steaming lotion. She never got cool and sweat trickled like a stream between her breasts. Wonderful. Boob sweat. It felt like walking in a warm, living womb.
Kim had threatened many times that she would quit if they didn’t buy air conditioning for the back room, but they were empty threats. Kim would never leave. She loved the flowers too much, as Elly did. And Elly loved flowers, and her store – her little piece of heaven. The front of the store was painted pale yellow with antique white accents – not unlike cake piping. Angel ringed ivy snaked down book shelves filled with wedding and flower books: The Language of Flowers, Your Unique Bouquet, Martha Stewart Weddings and others. Her dark cherry wood desk had very little clutter on it besides a computer – a complex general of a machine that she barely understood – and a ceramic mug filled with pens that simply said “Love.” Elly grimaced at the irony of what was clearly lacking, but that mug was one of the few things she brought from Georgia. There was no reason for it; she loved her love mug. Everything was placed in the right spot on her desk, simple and clean. While looking effortless, it took a lot of work to maintain.
To the right of the desk was a huge cottage window. It peeked out onto a tiny courtyard that faced Wydown Street. Elly and Kim had tried their hardest to decorate the barren, overgrown area – they put topiaries in the corners, rose bushes tucked into a raised brick seating area, white lights in the trees, but still looked a little....ugly. It would always be a little ugly, but Elly liked it anyway.
She sighed and took a sip from her water bottle, delighting in the cool liquid trickling down her throat, into the wrong pipe. Elly wheezed and choked. Just when she was feeling sexy, it all fell apart. Oh well, it wasn’t like anyone was looking anyway. She shrugged; at least her store was beautiful. Tall ribbon holders stretched across the walls, displaying a satin rainbow of pastels. Two coolers hummed all day long and added a much-needed sense of urgency to all projects. Posies had a variety of walkins every day – from older women, who lived in the grand mansions lining the street, to awkward high school boys buying single roses for their girlfriends. The boys were Elly’s favorites. Other than that, it was mostly brides. Ah, the endless brides.
They would come in, their faces flushed with the excitement of their upcoming wedding, mothers and sisters and friends in tow, clutching various wedding books and magazine cut-outs. She would greet them at the door, seat them at her table and proceed to talk about such lovely things that they always left a little dazed. She had a large glass covered table, and under it were the thank-you notes from dozens of brides, all grateful and gushing. There were a small handful of brides over the past two years who didn’t like their flowers – “too earthy” was always their complaint– but the vast majority of Posies brides loved their flowers and couldn’t refer them fast enough.
Elly would spend a couple of minutes every day running her fingers aimlessly over the notes. Her brides, her girls. She would often become more than a florist to each of them – a friend, a confidant, a trusted wedding advisor. This was her favorite part of the job, besides the designing. Elly loved creating her organic magic, a bundle of beauty that when handed to a bride made her gasp in delight. Elly was constantly thinking up new combinations and could sit for hours writing down flower types and color and today, standing in front of the picture window, she let her mind wander to just that.