A couple of people had arrived late, and the party was in full swing. It was also way past Elly’s bedtime. They approached the group on the couch.
“Isaac, where did you go?” asked the red-head wearing black and white striped stockings and a cute jean skirt. She nudged him with her hip.
Elly. Hated. Redheads.
“Tifah. You are so nosey. We were just in the kitchen. Hey, Elly is hungry.”
Thank you for pointing that out, Elly sang in her head.
“What are the appetizers you brought?”
Tifah, a waif, leaned into Isaacs shoulder. “Well, I have been trying new things from Gourmet Petite for lighter fare…we have a shrimp ceviche, a salmon mousse on Melba toast, and crudité.”
Elly was suddenly longing for the box of cereal bars that was sitting temptingly in her pantry. Isaac, however, apparently mirrored her feelings.
“What the heck is a crudité?” he asked.
Elly snickered.
“It’s….vegetables. Carrot sticks,” Tifah informed him.
Isaac rolled his eyes. “Then why didn’t you just say carrot sticks?”
Tifah suddenly seemed to shrink. “Whatever. We were talking about parallel fifths and their relation to 20th century music…”
Elly tuned out, cranberry juice in hand. All around the party, people were engrossed in deep conversation. The lanky man who had assumed she was someone’s mom was strumming a sitar in the corner, while a young girl sat in rapt attention at his feet. The man in the tight black t-shirt was clapping some sort of rhythm with his hands, while the other man on the couch nodded in time. Out on the balcony, there were two guys harmonizing.
This is awful, thought Elly. The girls were all centered around Isaac. She watched in silence. He truly was a commanding presence. He was wearing a button down white shirt with tiny caramel swirls down the arms. Dark lean jeans sat on his narrow hips, and brown sandals showed his lightly tanned toes. He seemed to be a great listener, leaning into each conversation with interest, tossing his head back with laughter at lame jokes that should have garnered a weak smile at best. Isaac possessed allure. Every woman in the room was seeking out his attention, his addictive grin.
Elly could not explain the feeling that Isaac stirred within her. It was a rushing joy – it felt like a familiar comfort, a coming home, an old feeling with a new face. As Elly pondered the strange sensation spreading through her like syrup, Isaac turned and faced her while the three women talked incessantly at him. They shared a moment, not unlike the one she felt in the kitchen. A connection.
Isaac, noticing a lull in the conversation, announced, “Here’s something interesting – Elly grew up in a house with a butler!”
Before Elly was forced to reply, Tifah, who had been swaying and holding on to Isaac’s arm, turned and barfed onto Elly’s shoes.
Twenty minutes later, barefoot and less one puking bohemian, Elly sat on Isaac’s balcony, which overlooked Wydown, the same street that her shop faced. It was strange to see her little patio from this angle. She had a sudden alarmed thought that maybe Isaac had seen the end of her and Kim’s fight that afternoon. How embarrassing! And she had looked like crap! She pushed it out of her mind. The white lights sparkled in the trees, and she watched a young couple, who appeared to have had a little too much wine - not unlike Tifah, who was recovering in Isaac’s bedroom – stumble down the street. The girl laced her fingers through the man’s hair, pulling his face down to hers for a voracious kiss.
Elly looked away, suddenly feeling a voyeur to their passion. She couldn’t stop yawning. I should be in bed by now. What am I doing here? She thought about Cadbury, who was probably wondering where she could possibly be. She didn’t leave him alone at night often. She never went out, unless she went to Kim’s, and Cadbury always joined them there. He was probably leaving a special present for her on her carpet at this very moment.
The glass door slid open, and Isaac stepped out, shutting it tightly behind him. Elly’s heart quickened. They were alone!
“Is everything cleaned up?” she asked.
“Yeah. She’s sleeping in my room.” He paused, looking a little queasy. “I have never seen vomit that color.”
Elly laughed. She found talking with him to be calm and easy, like drinking sweet tea. He settled in the chair next to her, his face lit up periodically by turning headlights.
“Elly,” 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-seeded 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 teenage 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…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, or her eyes turning into poppy blooms or her body getting covered in veiny soil. It was as if God has 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, just two years ago. She remembered sitting on Kim’s couch, going through tissue after tissue, as 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 towards what happened next. One afternoon, Sean finally had 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 had 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 and taste.
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, this – she glanced at the sign – 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 cake-making, 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 florist? 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 yet 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 a jumble,” 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. The moment that makes everything 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 saving 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 the glass shards with her hands, muttering to herself.
“Elly” he said softly, “It’s okay.”
“Thank you so much 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, in 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 towards 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 awhile, 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 awhile. I toured Europe, stayed at hostels, totally met this amazing Spanish guy….”
Elly mentally checked out and started thinking about the chocolate mousse that she would be getting from Keith’s deli later today. 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- than 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 into 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 timer. 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 grey 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 her 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 In Bloom Page 6