Elly in Bloom. Colleen Oakes

he started drumming on the end of the chair, “tell me something about you.”

      Elly mentally checked off the things she wouldn’t tell him about. Georgia. Aaron. Deep-seated weight insecurity. An addiction to trashy romantic reality shows.

      “What would you like to know?”

      “Well,” he traced his finger down the edge of her chair, inches from her skin, “how did you decide to open a flower shop?”

      Ah, that I can talk about, Elly thought.

      “After my mother died of ovarian cancer, I received her life insurance policy as well as the proceeds from her house sale. She had taken it out while I was very young and it had built up over time. It sat in the bank forever.”

      She paused to take a large sip of wine. She could feel herself getting sleepier with every passing minute, with every passing drink.

      “I couldn’t even think of touching it, not for a long time. It felt like I traded my mother for that money. I was still grieving, three years after the fact.” She felt a rising lump in her throat, and veered immediately in another direction. “When I arrived here in St. Louis, I couldn’t handle the thought of more office politics, or running stupid errands for my boss, like spending hours searching for a new sushi restaurant, or having to spend most of the day typing up documents.” She had purposefully glossed over her overly dramatic departure and was relieved that he hadn’t noticed.

      Isaac nodded empathetically. “I totally understand. I’ve never been a person who wanted that. My parents never understood. Parents just don’t get it.”

      Elly ignored what sounded to be the most adolescent sentence ever and continued talking.

      “I didn’t really know what I wanted to do. Kim—that’s my best friend—helped me carve out a plan. I had no clue what the future held, but I wanted something … tangible, earthy.”

      There was much Elly wasn’t saying. She didn’t just want earthy. She wanted to immerse herself in something messy. Something dirty and moist, something to make herself forget what she had left. She dreamed, after she left Aaron, of damp earth, of ivy growing under her skin, of her eyes turning into poppy blooms, and of her body getting covered in veiny soil. It was as if God had sent a garden to spring up around her to heal her pain. She glanced at Isaac, who was staring at her as she spoke.

      “I was staying with Kim and her husband Sean at the time, and I just ran across the shop. It was vacant.”

      The day was etched so clear in her memory. She was sitting on Kim’s couch, going through tissue after tissue, while Kim played both host and therapist. Her days had consisted of waking, eating, sleeping, waking, talking for six hours, and then sleeping again. Elly had not left Kim’s house for weeks. Sean had proven himself to be everything that Aaron wasn’t—patient, kind, and understanding—by letting a strange, weepy woman stay in his home for months on end.

      After weeks of crying, Elly started waking up earlier, moving around more, and looking toward what happened next. One afternoon, Sean finally asked if she would mind if he stole his wife for the afternoon, and Elly found herself with hours to kill. She walked down the leaf-covered paths that led to Wydown Street, where she knew she could find solace in a piece of lemon cake covered with delicate frosting swirls.

      It was early fall, but the air still felt like summer, and the sun barreled down on her bare neck. It felt good to be out of the house. Elly, for the first time, realized that perhaps, just maybe, she would live through this experience and be better for it. She turned the corner to the coffee shop where she had first met Kim and smelled warm bread. Where was that coming from? Two or three doors down from the coffee shop sat a small deli. She walked up to the building and peeked her head in the door. She could see a short man talking with customers and putting large chunks of roast beef onto a sandwich. Steam rose from the kitchen, and the place vibrated with excitement, smells, and tastes.

      Her stomach growled. One thing that had not suffered through this whole ordeal was her appetite. It was a shame she had only grabbed enough money for coffee and lemon cake. She would have to tell Kim about this place. She glanced at the sign that read: Keith’s Deli. Next door to the warm bread heaven was a vacant building. It was tan stone, two levels, with white trim and what looked like new windows. Above the store was a cobweb covered sign that said “Dog-topia.” It blew in the wind next to a “For Lease/Storefront and Apartment” sign. Yikes, thought Elly, with a name like Dog-topia, no wonder it failed….

      She rubbed a small hole in the dusty window and peered inside. There was a long silver counter that ran through the back of the store, with a silver sink at the end. Probably for washing dogs, Elly thought. The rest of the place was trashed. Piles of plastic littered the floor, which was covered with clumps of dog hair. There was a fluorescent light hanging down from the ceiling, and Elly thought she spotted a mouse, unaware that he was being watched, scamper across the doorway. There was something about the back counter that kept drawing her eye. It would be perfect for crafting. Perfect for cakemaking or sewing—both of which Elly did not know a thing about—or flower designing.

      Elly lingered on the thought. She knew flowers. She had spent her whole life gathering flowers from her mother’s overflowing gardens and arranging them in pitchers, terra-cotta pots, bowls … she had always loved it. Why couldn’t she open a floral shop? She had her inheritance from her mother. And at the moment she had no job, no direction, and no home … and no sandwich! Elly sat down on the dirt covered stoop in front of her and stared at the shop for what seemed like hours. This was it, wasn’t it? This was the moment where everything turned. Like the moment she came up the stairs. A writhing golden back, sheets on the floor, red hair tangled in Aaron’s ink-stained hands…. She shook her head. No. No more of that. This was her moment. She had felt so far from God lately, but when she looked at this building, every inch of her skin tingled with a spiritual awakening. She walked up and touched the side of the building, feeling the cool stone under her hand. Yes, yes, she could feel the connection immediately. This was her place. Right here on Wydown Street. This was where she was meant to be. This was the reason that she had pulled over here to get coffee. This was why she had met Kim. This shop, this place. It was hers.

      “… And that is when I just knew. It was right. So, I decided to open the shop, and it’s been pretty great ever since.”

      Isaac shook his head. “Wow. That is amazing. Just to follow your passion like that. I mean, you just knew. I totally get it. I feel that assurance, every time I pick up my guitar, or start putting notes to page. It is that confidence, that aura of being. Everything jumbled,” he traced his fingers in a circle around Elly’s heart, “gets put back into place.”

      Elly had no idea what he was talking about, because all she could think about was how close he was to her, how his fingers were inches from her chest. He was still talking.

      “The universe clicks the puzzle into clarification. Moments like those make life easy.”

      Elly didn’t bother telling him that “the moment,” while being great, had also led to many headaches and was anything but easy. Real estate agents screaming at each other, disputes with the bank, property laws, drained savings accounts, business licenses, wholesaler searches and many, many days of sweat and tears had followed her “moment.” The moment that she knew was also a moment that brought complication and responsibility. She remained lost in that thought until Isaac lightly touched her arm.

      “You are a very interesting person, Elly Jordan,” he said, his eyes bearing down into hers with incredible force.

      “Er, thanks,” said Elly. He stared at her as a car drove past them. Elly could see where this night would end up if she kept staring into his deep eyes…. She saw herself tackling him, mainly….

      She stood up quickly, knocking her wine glass off her lap and onto the stone floor, where it shattered. “Oh crap!” she yelped. “I am so sorry. Ohhhh, your glass. I’ll totally buy you a new one. I know this great shop up the street. Or you could have one of mine. I have some blue ones like this.” She was mortified, grabbing