Elly in Bloom. Colleen Oakes

for inviting me,” she said. “I had a great time—minus the vomit. Not that it bothered me. I mean, it’s vomit, it bothers everyone, but it’s not like it’s not normal to throw up sometimes.” Elly, STOP TALKING, she mentally screamed at herself. “Thanks again!”

      She dumped the glass into the nearest trash can and practically threw herself out the front door. She could hear people talking inside.

      “Is that lady’s mom okay?”

      Then she heard Isaac laughing. A line of sweat dripped down her forehead. She was out. Free. Elly ran down the back of the fire escape and circled around to the front of her store, leaning against her window display, breathing in what had just happened. This man—he liked her. Her, with her mom pants and bad hair. Her, with her ample breasts and generous bottom. Isaac. His name sent teenage flutters through her body. She leaned against the building. Joy overpowered her. “THANK YOU, JESUS!” she yelled and then she did a little dance. As soon as it escaped her mouth, she was seized by a sudden panic. With great trepidation, she looked toward his apartment. And there he was watching her on the balcony, a silent sexy shadow with a burning cigarette flame.

      Chapter Six

      The next morning, Elly sat at her desk, doodling with a green pen as she watched the girl she was interviewing take a swift nose dive into flames.

      “I was a language student for a while, but I felt like that just wasn’t me. You know? I still do interpretive dance, which is kind of like a language in itself. So then I was into the traveling thing for a while. I toured Europe, stayed at hostels, met this totally amazing Spanish guy….”

      Elly mentally checked out and started thinking about the chocolate mousse that she would be getting from Keith’s deli later that day. Unfortunately, she knew the minute she opened the door that this would not be her new hire. The girl came for her interview wearing purple leggings with a long band T-shirt over them. She was Elly’s third interview of the morning. The first woman was nice and polite, but barely spoke English; the second was a large, sweaty man who had misunderstood the ad—floral designers, he thought, had meant that he would be lifting things in a greenhouse. At least he had been interesting to talk to. This girl was making Elly want to bang her head against a wall. She forced herself to tune back in.

      “… And I was like, ‘If you can’t respect my decision to not use deodorant—my lifestyle choice—then you don’t respect me.’ And Brazil isn’t just a dream. Paying for a flat isn’t as easy as it seems, but I have to have space for my dancing.”

      “Thank you very much,” said Elly suddenly. “We’ll be in touch.”

      She stood up and shook the girl’s hand. The girl looked bewildered. She walked her to the door, and breathed a sigh of relief when she was finally gone. Then she grabbed a stem of freesia and waved it around the girl’s now empty chair, filling the room with freesia scented mist.

      Kim leaned around the corner, pale-pink anna roses in hand. Elly could tell she had been laughing.

      “So,” she looked at Elly flinging the flower around, “how’s it going?”

      “Oh, FINE. You know, I just interviewed a girl who asked if it would be okay if she brought her Kabbalah bracelet in to work to enhance the environment.”

      Kim grinned. “Well, could she?”

      Elly looked at her, annoyed. “Also, she smelled bad. Like patchouli.” She paused, thinking. “You know, you could just stay.”

      Kim’s smile faded. “Don’t make me feel bad. You promised. It’s not my fault your ad was misleading.”

      Elly launched herself into her chair and put her feet onto the desk. Owning your own business had its perks.

      “Sorry. It’s just … I’m trying to replace YOU. You are perfect. You know everything. I would have died a million times without you here. I’m afraid the shop will fall down the minute you walk out the door.”

      Kim walked over and kissed Elly’s forehead. “You are pathetic. You built this place, not me. Have some pride.”

      Snarky Teenager stomped out of the back. “Um, Kim? This bucket has a leak in it. What should I do?”

      Kim rolled her eyes at Elly and headed to the back. Elly didn’t know what Snarky Teenager would do without Kim. She worshipped the ground Kim walked on. She regarded Elly more like that bossy aunt she had to like because they were related.

      Elly looked down at her day planner. Two more interviews today and a consultation with a mother of the bride. Fun times. Still, Elly felt buoyancy in her step today. She couldn’t stop replaying Isaac running his fingers along the edge of her chair on the balcony. His smile, his laugh, his dark curly hair. It was nothing, she told herself. He was just nice to you because you are his neighbor. There is nothing there. She told herself this, but she knew that he felt it too, this heat between them. Elly was wondering if she remembered how to kiss when the door clanged open for her next interview.

      The woman who walked in resembled an angry little bird. She had long brown hair, a pointed nose and piercing gray eyes. She was smartly dressed in long white pants and a light, pretty red shirt with a green and blue scarf around her neck.

      “Hi, I’m Elly,” she greeted the woman, extending her hand. The woman pulled Elly’s hand up to her lips and kissed it. Elly pretended that she wasn’t shocked and smiled.

      “I am Ardelle Buche. Eet eez a pleasure to meet you.” A thick French accent was unmistakable. “I love your shoppe. Eet eez so darling, right next to this sandwich shop though, so unfortunate.”

      Elly smiled politely. “Oh. They make great sandwiches. They have this meatball one—”

      Ardelle waved her hand. “I don’t eat meat. It clouds ze mind as a designer, and you have to keep ze creative juices flowing.”

      Okkayyyy, thought Elly. Ardelle looked appalled as Cadbury walked up to sniff her. She tried to shove him away, which resulted in Cadbury growling and she shrieked.

      “Your dog zeems to have a problem. Will he bite me?”

      I wish, thought Elly. She sat down at the desk, determined to gain the control back from this woman.

      “So Ardelle, do you have any design experience?”

      Ardelle snickered. “Oh my darling. Of course. I was schooled first at L’École des Fleurs in Paris where I studied under Madame Lorelai. Zen I traveled to New York, and became ze head flower designer for Divine Blooms for twenty years. Designing is what I do best. Eet eez truly an art form, pure and intellectual. I revere ze design properties of balance. I have studied color wavelength and theory. I am accredited in ikebana and advanced composition. I have brought my portfolio.”

      “Oh, thanks.” Elly heaved the huge black book onto her desk. As she flipped through the pictures of wildly impressive arrangements, Elly tried to make conversation. She couldn’t deny that the woman had talent, but her insane radar was spiking off the charts.

      “What made you want to get into floral designing?”

      Ardelle sighed and brushed her bangs out her eyes. “When I first traveled through France, I was struck by ze life and ze culture of it all. The fields of lavender, ze delicate lines of a tulip … it was a miracle. Then, I saw how gifted I was as a designer and student. My teachers revered me, absolutely REVERED me. Zey said they had never had such a designer. My clients ask for me by name. I once made a small bouquet for the Queen of England. Can you imagine? And I never heard about it, no, not once, which was a shame. But, I figured, with all the things she has to worry about … why would she take ze time to call me? But of course, a thank you would have been nice.”

      Elly looked up from her book and smiled. Ardelle looked at her.