would be about setting her wedding date. Her mother pressed her often enough on that topic to make it absolutely impossible to even consider raising her hopes .
‘Aren’t you going to call them, at least?’ Her mom didn’t usually give up, Meg thought resentfully, hoping that her dad would finally make an appearance and distract her from this interrogation. He often managed to mellow her mother out, though only marginally.
‘Later, M om.’ She grimaced , her fingers going to her temples and massaging them in a circular motion. She felt a headache approaching as the stresses of the day finally caught up with her. She looked down at her casual white jeans and red t-shirt . H er bare feet welcom ed the solid ground after hours of walking in her high - heeled sandals. After she ’d arrived home, she ’d spent half an hour taking a long shower, scrubbing her face free of make - up , and putting her hair up into a careless ponytail.
S he looked at the heap of her party clothes lying crumpled on the bathroom floor. The blue dress that she had picked with so much care in the hopes of impress ing the Harper s would be forever linked to the horrid events . S he doubted she’d ever wear it again.
‘Well, you must know what you’re doing .’ H er mom shrugged, her beautiful face carefully composed into a mask of indifference. She could have fooled anyone but Meg, who knew how anxious her mother was to have her and Ry an together.
‘I do, really . ’ She smiled, dying to escape to her florist’s shop , the only place that would keep her sane at the moment . S he ’d come to embrace the comforting predictability of her shop duties after tense exchanges with her mother. It didn’t m att er if the world would consider her insane for going there at such ungodly hour and after such a turbulent evening. It was her choice , after all, and there was always someth ing to be done, especially with Jenna being preoccupied with her boyfriend.
Nothing a few hours of accounting and order sorting won’t solve , s he thought half an hour later as she hopped o nto her sport bike and rode off, leaving her mom extremely dissatisfied , yet unable to stop her .
The store welcomed her like an old acquaintance . T he familiar settings and the perpetually lingering scent of flowers were pleasantly reassuring. She looked around, taking in the somewhat austere interior, and recalled how Jenna had tried to convince her to give it a more boutique- like flair. They had actually almost got ten in to a fight about the decorating; it would have been the first and only fight in the years of friendship they had shared. Jenna lamented that they would scare off any potential customers if they kept the décor to the bare minimum. People expected a florist’s shop to be pleasant, and that definitely involved more than what Meg had in mind. Still, in one of those rare moments of stubbornness, she persevered and put her foot down, winning the battle.
Flowers and arrangements should speak for themselves without fluffing them up with gaudy trinkets or fancy furniture. There were enough places like that already, where buying flowers came with the whole experience of healing crystals, dream catchers, candles , and G od knew what else. And if someone needed grandmother’s furniture, there was plenty of it out there, without them needing to have oversized sofas, flowery patterns , and lace lurking in every corner. They would stick to flowers, offering the best and the simplest, unless specifically asked for something more posh.
So the display room remained simple : the white walls, pale birch - colored floor , and the glass and chrome cabinets serv ed as unobtrusive accessories that accentuated the artistry of the flower displays . Flowers were their business, and flowers ruled the place, as Meg liked to say. The gamble seemed to have paid off, and after a slow start, more and more satisfied customers were recommending them and their shop every day.
Meg
‘Aren’t you going to call them, at least?’ Her mom didn’t usually give up, Meg thought resentfully, hoping that her dad would finally make an appearance and distract her from this interrogation. He often managed to mellow her mother out, though only marginally.
‘Later, M om.’ She grimaced , her fingers going to her temples and massaging them in a circular motion. She felt a headache approaching as the stresses of the day finally caught up with her. She looked down at her casual white jeans and red t-shirt . H er bare feet welcom ed the solid ground after hours of walking in her high - heeled sandals. After she ’d arrived home, she ’d spent half an hour taking a long shower, scrubbing her face free of make - up , and putting her hair up into a careless ponytail.
S he looked at the heap of her party clothes lying crumpled on the bathroom floor. The blue dress that she had picked with so much care in the hopes of impress ing the Harper s would be forever linked to the horrid events . S he doubted she’d ever wear it again.
‘Well, you must know what you’re doing .’ H er mom shrugged, her beautiful face carefully composed into a mask of indifference. She could have fooled anyone but Meg, who knew how anxious her mother was to have her and Ry an together.
‘I do, really . ’ She smiled, dying to escape to her florist’s shop , the only place that would keep her sane at the moment . S he ’d come to embrace the comforting predictability of her shop duties after tense exchanges with her mother. It didn’t m att er if the world would consider her insane for going there at such ungodly hour and after such a turbulent evening. It was her choice , after all, and there was always someth ing to be done, especially with Jenna being preoccupied with her boyfriend.
Nothing a few hours of accounting and order sorting won’t solve , s he thought half an hour later as she hopped o nto her sport bike and rode off, leaving her mom extremely dissatisfied , yet unable to stop her .
The store welcomed her like an old acquaintance . T he familiar settings and the perpetually lingering scent of flowers were pleasantly reassuring. She looked around, taking in the somewhat austere interior, and recalled how Jenna had tried to convince her to give it a more boutique- like flair. They had actually almost got ten in to a fight about the decorating; it would have been the first and only fight in the years of friendship they had shared. Jenna lamented that they would scare off any potential customers if they kept the décor to the bare minimum. People expected a florist’s shop to be pleasant, and that definitely involved more than what Meg had in mind. Still, in one of those rare moments of stubbornness, she persevered and put her foot down, winning the battle.
Flowers and arrangements should speak for themselves without fluffing them up with gaudy trinkets or fancy furniture. There were enough places like that already, where buying flowers came with the whole experience of healing crystals, dream catchers, candles , and G od knew what else. And if someone needed grandmother’s furniture, there was plenty of it out there, without them needing to have oversized sofas, flowery patterns , and lace lurking in every corner. They would stick to flowers, offering the best and the simplest, unless specifically asked for something more posh.
So the display room remained simple : the white walls, pale birch - colored floor , and the glass and chrome cabinets serv ed as unobtrusive accessories that accentuated the artistry of the flower displays . Flowers were their business, and flowers ruled the place, as Meg liked to say. The gamble seemed to have paid off, and after a slow start, more and more satisfied customers were recommending them and their shop every day.
Meg
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