The window that Elly had decorated the week before with bright-yellow daffodils was gone. As was the Radio Flyer wagon filled with blazing red tulips, and the white window pane that she always threw in at the last minute to fill empty space. Elly ground her teeth together. Snarky Teenager’s display was amazing. In the middle of the window was a headless mannequin (Elly decided her name was something edgy and cool like … Ione), dressed neck to toe in white. On the left side of the window, her hand held a dog leash that attached to a small stone Scottie. The background was a black-and-white paisley drape. There was a low dusting of polymer snow on the ground. The whole scene felt cold and sterile, although undeniably chic. In contrast, on the right side of the window was an explosion of color. The mannequin’s right hand clutched a wheat grass-covered bucket of bright-pink cockscomb and orange orchids cascading down onto the ground. The curtain panels behind Ione blazed with bright swirling colors of paisley: yellow, oranges, and poppy reds. Hand-painted lettering read: Flowers Bring the Spring. A slight hint of embarrassment crept up Elly’s face, narrowing her eyes and pulling in her cheeks. Her window had been cute, but this window was jaw-dropping. Creative. Bright. What the heck? Was Snarky Teenager a secret genius?
Elly gave a low groan and headed inside, but not before she saw two ladies crossing the street, pointing at the window and marveling. Snarky Teenager stood by the door, her long blond hair wrapped around her shoulders. She trailed behind Elly’s heavy footsteps, a nimble fairy. “Look, I know it was rude to take it down without asking, but it just looked soooo boring, and it’s always the same, with the window and the wagon….”
Elly cut her off. “I love it. It’s hard to say, but I love it.”
“Good. I know you’re mad, but like you’re mad at me half the time, so I figured who cares? I thought if we spiced it up a little bit, and put that thin mannequin at the front, we would attract fresher clients.”
Elly walked around her desk, trailing her fingers over her keyboard before settling into her chair. She subdued Snarky Teenager with a glare. “We have fresh clients! Mrs. Altpeter is only about thirty-five!”
Snarky Teenager widened her eyes. “Mrs. Altpeter? Isn’t she married to like a sixty-year-old?”
“He’s very sexy,” deadpanned Elly. “He has Sean Connery eyes.”
Snarky Teenager propped herself against the consultation table, something Elly would never do for fear of falling through the glass. “I’m just saying that we need to attract the interest of people in their twenties and thirties. There is a lot of young money in this town, especially with the new software building going in on Clayton Road. We need to attract those rich thirty-year-old women who are unmarried and have money to burn. They want high-end, modern flower arrangements in their office and their home, and this antique, cutesy shop is not going to do it for them. Really.” She paused, and Elly could see that she was trying to be nice. The cogs in her little prodigy’s head were turning, turning…. “Look, you know I love Posies. I think this shop is perfect for your mostly elderly Jewish clientele and doe-eyed brides. It’s classic, and I love the French cottage feeling of it all.” She took a deep breath and flung back her long ponytail. “I’ll cut to the chase. I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and I think we should open another store. A store that targets a different audience. We could open it in downtown Clayton, right next to the business park, and we could—”
Elly cut her off. “Another store? Are you kidding me? Do you think I could afford another store? I haven’t paid off this store yet. Also, I don’t have time to run Posies and a new venue. We can barely keep up with the demand here, ever since the article in Pleats!” Pleats was the magazine for Clayton’s elite. Elly had been featured in a two-page article that chronicled her rise in the St. Louis wedding business, along with pictures of her flower arrangements. There had also been a gratuitous photo of her bending over the cooler in which her bottom appeared as some sort of barge. That’s why she had only read the article once. She had spotted the picture at Keith’s deli, hanging in his office. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
Snarky Teenager circled her foot on the carpet. “Elly, I know you are superbusy and very in demand right now. So, I thought maybe … I could run it.”
There was a moment of silence when the elevator music in the store seemed to raise a few decibels. Elly stared at Snarky Teenager, bewildered. Her mouth opened and shut. She felt like a fish. “You—you would run it?”
Snarky Teenager shrugged. “Yeah.”
Elly gave a tiny laugh. “You’re a senior in high school. How would you possibly run a shop?” Snarky Teenager jumped up from the table and sat down very close to Elly, leaning forward on the desk excitedly. Elly leaned back as she leaned forward. Elly suddenly understood that she had been ambushed. This was not a random conversation.
“I’ve got it all figured out. I can change my schedule to take all morning classes, and besides, most of classes this year are, like, pottery and women’s studies, which is, like, who cares about sad housewives with rocks in their pockets?”
Elly winced.
“So, I could be done by noon to spend the rest of the day at the shop, and we could hire someone to run the place in the morning. We could cut off deliveries at four, so that I could make it home in time to finish my homework.”
“You don’t do homework,” Elly pointed out.
“True. So, even better for the store.”
Elly blew out her breath slowly. “Look, I think it’s a good idea, I do, I just don’t know how we would pay for it. I am totally overwhelmed with this store and these weddings already. I can’t imagine running another.”
Snarky Teenager was starting to look angry. Oh boy, she was sort of terrifying.