“Alright, honey, and you know where the shotgun is if you need it?” he asks.
“Yes, and I still know how to use it.”
He nods stiffly. “Good, but if you need something, call the Hayes or the Montgomerys, or the Wests. They’ll help you out.”
I give him a thumbs up, though I don’t know who they are except for June Hayes. I met her the other day.
“We’ll call you when we get there!” Aunt Francesca says, waving me off and gliding over to the truck.
Uncle Leo takes one last long look at me and heads down the stairs.
I grab my cup of coffee and wave to them as they pull out of the driveway. The cool mountain air fills my lungs and I sit on the porch swing. My boss didn’t seem to care where I was in the world as long as I did my job, and my parents reassured me they had everything covered.
So now it’s me, myself and I on this land, with a business I have no idea how to run.
***
It’s been one week since my aunt and uncle left. They’ve called to check in, but I haven’t been entirely honest with them. I’m floundering, but they don’t need to know that. I’m going to figure this out.
I finished one of my accounting projects and had plenty of time today to organize future projections for the flower shop. Something Idoknow how to do. But the reality is bleak. Aunt Francesca had some good years, but recently business has slowed. I don’t know why. It could simply be economical, or it could be competition. She said a lot of business comes from funerals, but my mind keeps going to the wedding industry. There are a couple of venues here in Paxton that people come from all over to use.
There’s no way one company two hours away can monopolize all of those weddings. There has to be a need for us here because it could mean the difference between not lasting the year or having the best year the Paxton Flower Shop has ever had.
I click through my projections based on the past few years; changes have to be made, and I’ll have to learn to sell.
I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking Forby U2 comes on, I smile to myself. Every time I hear this song, it’s like a nostalgic movie in my head. As strange as it is, it always gives me a sense of hope. Even if I haven’t found what I’ve been looking for — I still might.
Moving to the coolers, I gather the blooms to build more bouquets. My idea is to place them in the windows and change the displays, hoping it will grab attention. Though I don’t enjoy social media, the flower shop doesn’t have a social media presence, so I figured I’d give that a shot. I can keep it simple, but it could help and I need to do anything to get more money in the door.
I nod my head to the music and stick a few more daisies in a vase when the bell rings. I turn from my work table and June Hayes saunters in.
“Hey girl!” she hollers.
I smile and turn the music down.
“Eighties girl, I like it,” she says with a smile.
I shrug and pick at the bouquet I came up with, complete with yellow daisies, yellow roses, and some sprigs of eucalyptus. “I grew up listening to it and haven’t stopped since, I guess,” I tell her.
“That’s me and 90s country. Something about it is too romantic to let go.”
I chuckle and put the bouquet in the fridge. “BecauseChattahoocheeis super romantic.”
She snorts and shakes her head. “I wanted to drop by and see how you were doing, Ms. Sassy Pants. I heard Francesca and Leo left.”
“Yeah, it’s just me now.”
June leans against the counter. “So, how are you doing?” she asks.
I glance at her from gathering the ends of stems, almost hesitating to answer. I’m slow to trust people anymore, but June hasn’t given me any reason to think I can’t.
“I’m working through it, but maybe a little overwhelmed.”
“Have you ever run a business before?” she asks.
I shake my head.
“Ah, it’s not easy. I get it.”
