Elly In Love (The Elly in Bloom #2)

“Look, I appreciate you and all that you have done for me this year with my ex and Lucia and that whole mess, but you are so young, and I don’t think you could run a store alone. Don’t you want to do something easier?”


Snarky Teenager’s fierce eyes filled with tears. “Easier? Do you not think I’m smart enough to do this?”

Elly rose out of her chair to comfort her, but she jerked away, jutting out her chin—a snarky-teenage movement if Elly had ever seen one.

“You are just like my stupid parents! You have no faith in me, but I can do things! I could run the shop—I practically run this shop while you’re out cavorting with your Italian man candy!”

Elly raised an eyebrow. That was definitely not true and definitely the first time anyone had ever called Keith “man candy.”

The hysterical tirade continued. “By now, I’m almost as good as a designer as you. I can take orders, design a bridal bouquet, run consultations….” This was quickly getting out of control.

Elly stood up. “Yes. I know you can do all those things, and I’m so proud of you for that. But can you deal with a hysterical bride? Can you take an order with one hand while stripping a stem with the other? Can you deal with the hordes of advertisers that regularly descend on the shops or the bridal magazine harpies that push you into a corner? Can you handle a last-minute wedding change? More importantly, how about balancing a budget which fluctuates wildly with each season? You are right—you are fantastic at all the fun stuff that comes with this store. But are you ready to deal with the administration of it? With the times that make you want to cry? The times that don’t have anything to do with ‘pretty’?”

Snarky Teenager’s lower lip trembled. “No, but I could learn those things. I’m a fast learner.”

Elly sat back and hardened her tone. “You are not ready to run a shop. I’m sorry. And I don’t appreciate being ambushed like this. There are easier ways to talk to me about something without ripping down my display.”

“Which was ugly!” Snarky Teenager snapped.

Elly took a deep breath and focused on not strangling her employee. “Besides that, I don’t even think it’s a possibility financially.”

“Not even with the money you made from Aaron and Lucia’s wedding? I know how much you got paid. We all know. You told everybody.”

“Yes, and a lot of that went to paying off my condo and updating this shop.”

Snarky Teenager shot up, sending the chair flying behind her, and grabbed her tiny pink jacket. “Yeah, and it was totally worth it seeing how it still looks like an old-lady shop!” She wrenched the door open. “Everything about this store says middle age, including you. Oh, and by the way, you might have figured out that I’m not working today!” With that, she stormed out the door, which slammed loudly behind her, the bells sending out a harsh clank.

“Yeah, well, … old lady,” Elly muttered to the suddenly-empty store. She looked around, taking in the perfect quietness. A bright morning light flickered over the pale-yellow walls. Ugly pale-yellow walls? Suddenly, she was unsure of everything. “Shoot,” she whispered. She hadn’t meant to upset her assistant that much. It wasn’t her fault that her coworker had insane teenager emotions. How was she to know that this was something her worker had been dreaming about for a long time? Another store….

Elly let her thoughts linger on the idea. Could they do it? Was that even feasible? She sat down at her desk and leaned her head against the white wood, cool against her forehead. Elly decided she would stay there all day. The door banged open again. Elly kept her head down on the desk. “You can’t storm away angry like a psycho and then come right back. We have to be apart for at least a day before you can beg my forgiveness and plead your case to still have a job. Also, that was also not the best demonstration of your professionalism.” Elly heard an awkward shuffling of feet. She raised her head, a bright-yellow piece of Post-it stuck to her forehead. “Oh, sorry.”

The kid standing before her was growing increasingly nervous as she untangled the Post-it from her bangs. “Sorry about that. I just had an argument with a very talented but unruly teenage worker. We’re not officially open yet, but can I help you?”

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