Caleb must notice the wheels turning because he lets out a soft chuckle. "Sorry about that. He can…get a little protective. You're little…um, small. Like me. It's just in his nature to want…anyway, sorry, I don't want to overshare." Caleb looks around, his eyes are everywhere except on me.
"That's okay. We have plenty of time to get to know each other." I tell him, trying to lighten the mood. "So…what would you like me to do?" Now that it's just the two of us, I feel more relaxed. I don't feel like I'm on display like one of his arrangements.
"Okay. So, here's the plan. As much as I would love to sit and get to know you, I hate formal interviews. I thought we would do a demonstration." Caleb starts, taking control of the situation, which makes sense since he's one of the bosses. "You have free rein of all the supplies back here. We want you to create whatever speaks to you. It can be as simple as you want or extravagant. No matter what it is, the only thing we want…is to see you. Can you do that for us?"
I nod, too scared to speak as my eyes start to sting. It's been a long time since anyone has wanted to see me. The real me.
"Great." He does this little wiggle and claps his hands excitedly.He's so cute. "We'll put it on display in the shop when it's finished."
"You mean…for sale?" I think I blacked out.
"Of course." He grabs my bicep lightly. "After you're done, I'm treating us to lunch so I can get to know you better. Sort of an informal interview. Or…two new friends sharing a meal. See if we…click." Caleb is grinning way too much, but for somereason, it puts me at ease even more. "I'm going to head back out front. Have fun and come grab me if you need anything. I'll check on you in a little bit." Caleb pats my shoulder as he steps away, leaving me to stare at the cooler of flowers.
"Hey, Caleb," I call out before he fully exits the room. I don't turn to look at him, just stare at him through the glass' reflection.
"What's up?" The grin is still on his face.
"Thank you. You know…for giving me a shot." I wipe my palms on my thighs. I look over my shoulder at him. "It means a lot."
"Anytime."
After a few minutes of standing here, letting the flowers speak to me, I open the cooler door and step inside the walk-in. The tremble in my hand steadies as I reach out and touch one of the blooms. The white clusters of Queen Anne's Lace remind me of the flowers that dotted my old backyard. Thoughts of my mother are forefront when I pull a few sprigs and press my nose against the blooms. They're sweet.
Next, I run my fingertips over a few more flowers before arriving at the fiery red poppy. Untamed, just like my mom. I add some to the Queen Anne's Lace and smile. The vision of my creation becoming clear in my head as I pick up some lavender, and the scent is calming. Next, I add a few yellow buttercups. Each bloom I pick is plucked from my memory. A field of wildflowers that once grew in our backyard. Each flower is a part of the story I’m about to tell.
I feel my cheek dampen.
Pulling a tin container from the shelf, I'm reminded of the old potting shed, my mother's earth-stained hands, and echoing laughter. She always picked the most unique pots and vases for her arrangements, only adding to their beauty."These arespecial, Benny. Unique. That's what makes the world a colorful place. Don't ever be afraid to bloom in your own way."
Another tear falls as I loosely start setting the flowers in the base to see how my creation will look. Once I have the general architecture of my design, I remove the flowers and lay them out on the table, adding wire to different stems for added strength. Some greenery and bare spiral sprigs are gathered next, cutting them to the perfect length, some left longer intentionally.
As I weave the flowers together, my mother's wisdom begins to take shape in front of me. The pure joy she always radiated. The design isn't perfect or symmetrical. It's wild and organic, mirroring the garden I once loved that shaped who I am today.
When I wrap a long piece of white lace ribbon around the top of the tin pot, my heart cracks a little more. The reminder of a summer lace dress that would blow in the breeze as my mom walked through her small field of wildflowers barefoot.
The arrangement is finished.
What sits in front of me is my mom's final chapter, a story told in petals and leaves. I take a step back, admiring the vibrant arrangement. I simply gaze at it, the story unfolding before me.
A reflection of my heart.
Then, the weight of it all–getting fired, the memories, the love, the ache of missing her, the missed childhood, and everything that came after–descends on me.
My breath hitches, a sob tears from my throat as my knees buckle, sinking me to the floor in a blur of memories and pain.
Chapter Four
__________
Jason
The bell jingling over the door as I walk into Peonies and Petals has me smiling at the familiar sound, as the fragrance of roses and something earthy fills the air around me.
I've always loved the smell of nature.
Caleb's apron is dusted with soil as he meticulously fusses over one of the arrangements filled with roses and sunflowers, as he hums a familiar Disney tune.
The morning sun filters through the shop's front windows.
