Burning Flowers

by June Beyoki

  “So, are you ready to go out with me yet?” Joe asked, leaning across the counter with his chin resting in his hand. “Because if you are, we don’t even have to go anywhere. You can walk over and have lunch here with me. I can make you a really good cappuccino maybe, or an iced coffee of some kind, and we can just talk.” It was hard to take him seriously with the big goofy smile on his face and his pushiness to change her tastes. Clarke had to fight down a smile as not to encourage him any further.

  She just shook her head and moved down to the side of the counter where her hot coffee would be sitting once it was made. She kept her head down and ignored any looks Joe or the others gave her. She was in the zone already, worrying over what she might find when she got to the flower shop. They had just done a reset over the weekend to get ready for prom season as well as Easter. It was one of the busiest times of year for the shop. And everything had to be perfect.

  She heard the cup hit the granite counter top and looked up to see a tall white cup with her name written on it in black sharpie. “Thank you,” she directed at the young woman that made her coffee before she turned on her heel and walked towards the exit.

  She could hear Joe calling after her. “You know, one day I’m going to shake up your world and you’re going to wish you would have said yes to me earlier!” She could tell there was some laughter in his voice.

  “Today is not that day, Joe!” she called back before pushing the door open with her palm and walking out into the cool morning. Clarke’s body shivered just a little as the wind hit her on her way down the street. It was going to be warming up soon, but for now it was still in the high 50s outside, making mornings have a bite to them. Clarke was ready for the bite to leave and the warmth of the sun to follow her on her short journey over to the shop.

  When she got there, she just stood there for a moment, looking into her dark shop. She admired the cursive pink writing that read “Virginia Clarke’s Petals”. The name of the shop always sounded more like a novel, but that was how she liked it. She wanted the place to be more than just another corner flower shop. She wanted it to tell a story.

  Clarke sighed and pulled out the golden key from her purse and unlocked the glass door leading into the shop. She walked through, flipping on lights so she could glance at the work that had been done as she took her belongings into the back to lock them up.

  She locked her purse in a desk drawer and glanced at the large corkboard which was the only decoration of any kind against the white walls. She kept meaning to do something with the office, but she didn’t know what. At least the employees kept the corkboard filled with employee of the month pictures, happy customers and their favorite bouquets each month. A lot of them were custom pieces for events like weddings and conferences. That was her life’s work up there, narrowed down to a tiny space on the wall with some cheesy photos.

  Clarke knew all she had accomplished with her flower business, but she was always looking for ways to be more or do better. It just never seemed enough. It probably had something to do with her mother’s constant criticism that ran through her mind as if it was her conscience.

  Her shoes clunked against the hard floors as she came out of the office and out into the shop. It was still more than 30 minutes before they were set to open, but she was so sure she would be moving things around, displeased with the layout.

  She had given a map of what she wanted the shop to look like to the assistant manager so she could delegate things over the weekend, but Clarke was always weary about trusting others with her ideas. Plus, she had to see her idea in action to know if it was even good enough.

  She walked to the front of the store, standing up against the door, and she looked thoughtful, squinting at every angle to see if anything could be better. The orchids and carnations had been placed in front of the cold section in order to make the prom shop. They were the most common for people to buy for prom, and she made sure to display the most popular colors. At the table in front sat the look book that showed possible colors that the flowers could be dyed in order to make a custom boutonniere or corsage. It even suggested flower combinations.

  She walked over to the book and counted the pages, opening it to the exact middle. She was almost tempted to get out measuring tape to make sure the flowers were an even distance from each other as well as from the book, but she knew that drove her assistant manager crazy. So, she held her obsessive compulsive disorder back just a little but made a mental calculation of the distance just the same.

  Then, she went back to the front and surveyed the Easter section of the shop. There was a look book with a sample Easter basket on each side with a stuffed bunny, some eggs, and some flowers. One of them had silk flowers and the other had real ones. Both arrangements were yellow, pink, and blue pastels. She wanted to have a complaint about the Easter section so badly, but there was really nothing wrong other than the repetitiveness of the colors. But there was no helping that.

  Lastly, behind the counter, she double checked on the small portion of the wedding and events section that always had to be represented. People got married and had parties year round. She kept all those look books under the counter, but there were two small tables with small arrangements of white or red roses and peonies as well as photos of unique wedding creations like a headband, a belt, a boutonniere, and even a wreath they had made for the pulpit.

  Those were the projects she loved doing the most. It made her have to think; challenging her and the team to find new and innovative solutions. Though, she would never say it out loud, it was those pieces that made her proud to own the place.

  She heard the clanking sound of keys tapping against the glass door and squinted her eyes in frustration. The last thing she needed was scratches on the front of the shop. Clarke looked to the front to see her assistant manager, Katie, coming in the door.

  The chubby girl with the ageless face and dishwater blonde hair waved and headed back into the office with her patriotic bag that was way too big to fit in any of the desk drawers. In so many ways, Katie was the exact opposite of Clarke. Clarke imagined that Katie’s house was full of half-eaten food, clothes on the floor and an unmade bed. But when it came to running her shop, if she could ever learn to trust anyone with it, it was Katie. She was a hard worker who had a passion for flowers and art. And she’d come in with plenty of experience and didn’t make too many complaints about the way Clarke did things while still keeping her more frustrating quirks in check.

  “I should have known you would be here to check up on me,” Katie commented with a wide smile on her face. There was that too. The clients loved her because she was so sweet and cheery. “I told you everything would be fine, Clarke. So, tell me what you’ve changed.” Clarke felt slightly like a scolded child, but Katie was a mother after all. It seemed to make sense.

  “Honestly, I opened the look book for the prom selection. I wanted to measure out that display, but I knew that would drive you crazy.” Clarke followed Katie behind the counter and watched as she opened the drawer like she often did. “I can’t believe this doesn’t make you nervous.” It wasn’t the first time she’d said this to Katie.

  “People who are nervous usually have something to hide, Clarke. Look, I know you love the shop and all, but you really should quit worrying so much and take some time for yourself. I’m a mother of three with a job, and I still find time to go take a painting class or sit and read for a while,” Katie said without turning around. Clarke wouldn’t know what to do with herself, though. She had never taken any spare time. She spent college filling her schedule with community service, clubs, and extra credit. She even had a job on the weekends and at nights just to keep from being bored or having to find out how to relax and have a good time. It was a scary concept for her almost.

  “You know I need to make sure everything is perfect here.” Clarke’s voice came out in barely a whisper as she looked around at that little space she could call hers.

  “It will be perfect, Clarke, beca
use you’re so good at planning it and choosing staff and everything. You’re so good, this shop could run itself.”

  “Well, maybe it’s time for one of us to make a mistake so I have more of a reason to be here,” Clarke suggested with a chuckle, only half joking.

  Chapter Four

  “Hey, do you have those looks pulled for my meeting? I’m about to go grab a snack and head over there,” Clarke asked as Katie said goodbye to a customer that bought a bouquet for his wife. It was nearing noon which was not only her lunch time but time for a big meeting with a potential new client. The client was the wife of a big CEO who held a lot of events, and if she liked what Clarke had to say, the shop would be her permanent go to. That would really put the shop over the top and make it a place even her harsh mother would have to be proud of. But the woman was a tough one; very opinionated and snobby. It was hard to tell what she was going to like or hate.

  “Yes ma’am. I put them in the top drawer on the right for you in a plain black folder,” Katie answered.

  Clarke power-walked towards the back of the flower shop with determination where the office was, her arms pumping with effort. “Thanks; what would I do without you, Katie?”

  “Ask God for more hours in the day so you could do it all yourself,” Katie teased. But she was probably pretty accurate on that one.

  Clarke actually managed a chuckle as she grabbed the folder and walked back out, practically running out the door. She would have to go back down the road and grab something quick at the coffee shop to eat on the way there in the car. She hated the idea of getting crumbs on her clothes or in her vehicle, but she also did not want to waste time eating when she should be spending the extra time with the client, making sure she made her happy.

  She walked inside to find that Joe was on lunch and had his mouth full, which meant he couldn’t delay her with his comments. She ran up to the counter and ordered a bagel and cream cheese and paid before edging to the end of the counter to wait for it to be warmed up. When it was, it was handed to her in a small paper bag with the cream cheese already spread on it.

  Her flats clunked out the door as she ran to her car and got in, pulling out the bagel and sticking it into her mouth before turning on the GPS. She had programmed the woman’s house the day before so she would be ready. She had a large estate on the other side of town in a gated community.

  Clarke chomped down the bagel practically choking as she drove down the road, people honking at her driving once again. But she hated wasting company time when she felt she wasn’t doing anything. She wanted to make use of that lunch hour and get this deal done.

  She cut off a black SUV and watched the driver flip her the bird in her rear view mirror. She just glared and kept going, making it to Lincoln Crossing Estates in no time. She gave her name to the pudgy guard at the gate that in no way could stand up against a real intruder, and drove through the gate to find the correct house.

  She’d seen it in a picture once in a business magazine she subscribed to. It didn’t look completely unlike a small scale version of the White House. It was all white with hardly any color at all other than a dark wood door. And it had columns out in front.

  Clarke followed the GPS through the maze of roads until she found Prairiedog. At the end of the street, on a cul-de-sac, sat the large mansion that she was going to be meeting the woman in. It was a bit intimidating to think that this was the woman she was trying to impress; one that lived in a house where she was waited on hand and foot and had a team of decorators at her disposal all the time. But she had promised herself she was going to do everything in her power. She puffed up my chest and walked up to the door which miraculously opened. The staff must have been waiting on her.

  Not a word was exchanged as she followed a man in a suit that led her into a formal living room complete with antique furniture and gestured for Clarke to take a seat on a green and gold sofa. Then, he disappeared down a long hall that led to what looked like at least half a dozen more rooms. It made her wonder how many bedrooms and bathrooms there were to constantly be cleaned and why in the world an old couple needed so much space.

  She nervously tapped her foot as her hands began to shake. She lay out her plans nice and neatly on the oak coffee table in front of the sofa. Then, she heard a sound and looked up to see a woman walking down the hallway. She had white curly hair, but that was the only things that gave her age away. She had on a pink cashmere sweater and some white jeans. Her face looked about 20 years younger and natural; not like she had any work done. The way her lips were pursed reminded Clarke a bit of Maggie Smith.

  Clarke took a deep breath and looked down at all the plans sitting before her and sat up straight in her seat, ready to present her ideas to the biggest client she’d ever had.

  Chapter Five

  Clarke left the meeting feeling unsure of whether or not the woman enjoyed what she brought to the table. But it didn’t go terrible; so that was progress. At least, that’s what others would say. But Clarke was always her own harshest critic. It was past one in the afternoon, and she was annoyed she had been gone so long. She would just get back to the shop and then think about ways she could improve or save the sale for sure.

  As she got into her car, her phone buzzed. Without looking, she flipped on the blue tooth in the car and answered. She figured it was probably another client or Katie. But the voice that came through the receiver was one she would have rather not heard at that moment. “Well, well, look who finally answered the phone. I was wondering when you would.”

  “Don’t you have clients, Mother?” Clarke snapped at her coldly. Her mother only ever called or came around when it benefited her ego, but deep down Clarke still cared, which is why she reacted so poorly every time they talked. She wanted her mother to see her for once, though she knew it was never going to happen.

  “I’m on my lunch break, Clarke. Please, don’t talk to me that way.”

  “Fine, Mother, why did you call me on your lunch break?” she asked more softly, trying to navigate the road which was now busy with lunchtime traffic. People were randomly slamming on their breaks to turn into every fast food joint they passed, and it was getting on her nerves.

  “Well, I wanted to tell you that I ran into Mr. and Mrs. Coleman today.” Her mother never went anywhere she could run into people, so that told Clarke they were probably clients which didn’t surprise her one bit. They had always been the type to be sue-happy. They also happened to be her ex-boyfriend’s parents. And by ex-boyfriend, she meant the first guy in high school she ever made out with. His name was Bobby, and they’d gotten their braces stuck on each other freshman year. But for some reason he’d always stuck in her mother’s mind. It was the only thing Clarke had ever done that her mother approved of; probably because his parents were rich and seemingly perfect.

  “So?” Clarke asked impatiently.

  “Well, it turns out Bobby is now Dr. Bobby Coleman; a surgeon in fact. And it seems not only is he still interested in you; he also has a job available for a medical biller. He’s willing to train you and hire you. It’s like a double whammy, right?”

  Clarke scoffed, feeling ready to throw up at the idea of working at the office of a plastic surgeon, which is what she knew he was from Facebook. She also knew he could use a little plastic surgery himself. “Mother, I own a flower shop. I do not need a job,” Clarke explained, feeling annoyed. Her mother had never had the confidence in the idea of her running her own business much less a flower shop. She didn’t see any money or security in it. Nor was it a practical job like hers.

  “I thought you might be ready to give that up now, but I can see you’re still in denial.”

  Clarke felt her face getting hot as she reached the street to turn on to get to the shop. She was on the home stretch. It would give her a good excuse to hang up on her mother. “My business is doing very well, Mother, even if you haven’t noticed.. And why would I think of giving it up? If I did then I’d be a quitter, Mother. You know, like
Dad was?” Clarke said harshly. How could that woman be so contradictory?

  The conversation couldn’t have ended sooner as Clarke hit the end button on her dashboard and looked up in horror as she approached her flower shop. She pulled the car to a screeching stop and got out, her hands on either side of her face with her mouth open in a silent scream. Through the glass she could see flames rising, destroying her flowers and her shop. She looked around as she felt a tug on her sleeve as Katie pulled her back. Another associate; Rita and a couple of customers were standing next to her. They retreated to the front of a costume shop across the street as Clarke heard the sirens that meant the fire department was close by. The fire hadn’t spread over to other businesses yet, but they were beginning to evacuate too, and she felt like she was the center of attention in the worst possible way.

  As she watched her hard work and the last way she had to earn her mother’s love and pride go up in flames, she felt Katie rubbing her back to comfort her.

  Luckily, it didn’t seem to take long for the firemen to stop the fire, and the chief came out to speak to her with soot still on his face. “Are you the owner?” the man asked with a deep southern drawl. Clarke nodded and stepped forward.

  “Can you tell what in the world caused this? Did somebody do it on purpose?” Clarke asked, feeling dread pushing down on her chest. But she couldn’t think of anyone with any reason to hurt the business other than her mother. But her mother was a lawyer and wouldn’t dare to get her hands dirty that way. Or would she?

  “It’s pretty clear it was an electrical fire. You’ll have to get an inspector out here to see exactly what went wrong so you can get it fixed, but it’s common in these downtown businesses. Don’t beat yourself up about it ma’am.” He tipped his fire hat as if it were a cowboy hat. “You should wait a couple days to go in and survey the damage so that you don’t get sick. You’ll need to find a good remediator as well. I wish you the best of luck.”