“Yes, well, it started as that. I don’t know what it is now.”
“A flowerpot there, a picture there, and what’s that?”
“That’s a poof chair, like my room. I think there should be more poof in here, less sharp.”
“I think so too. That would be just the thing! Let’s take your drawing from today and show Daddy at dinner, sound good?”
“Yep.”’
Momma carefully tore the drawing off the pad.
“Put your pencils back so you have them the next time.”
Siena did as her mother asked.
The drawing made its way to the dining room with them. Daddy also thought it was a good job.
It earned a place on the refrigerator, and then, the next day, Momma took her to an outdoor market. It wasn’t like the department stores; it was more like a fair or a carnival.
They bought whatever Siena liked. They walked and walked.
Everything they bought wound up in Momma’s studio. Her picture came to life!
Siena Present
Cole was behind the wheel again, and Siena was thinking about her mom’s studio.
The studio had morphed over time into the picture Siena had drawn, and her mom had hung on the fridge. A lot of the rooms did, Siena would imagine it and her parents made it real. She knew that was unique, she knew that her parents encouraging her creatively was a gift. But somehow, she always thought her creativity had to fold into her mother’s.
Why start again? Why not bolster the family business? It just made sense. It was logical in Siena’s mind. And while both her parents encouraged her, they were happy, thrilled even, when she wanted to work for the Vivian Blackwood business.
She loved design, but not clothing design. Her childhood drawings, the new direction of the store, was this her calling? She loved making the space look a certain way, not making a person look a certain way.
Siena was invigorated with the idea that instead of just background objects, she was going to find things that she loved to decorate with, and that, maybe, would be the way to turn the store into a success.
“You’re a million miles away,” Cole pointed out.
“A million years, more like.”
“What are you thinking?”
“My mom’s old studio, how she decorated it based on my childhood scribbles.”
“See, you had a good eye even then. Is that what they say, ‘good eye’?”
“Yeah, I guess so. It’s just I’ve been so focused on my mom’s fashions, the idea that I’d have a totally different concept for the store, well, it’s a lot to think about.”
“Seems to me you’re already good at it.”
“Thanks, but what the heck? I even need a new name.”
“I suppose so.”
“Maybe Vivian Blackwood Home or Vivian Blackwood Accents?”
“I’m sure you’ll think of the right thing. Ooh, there’s a spot.”
Cole parked the truck. It was time to see if her good eye could turn the store from a miss to a hit.
