Chapter 8
eight
. . .
Emilia
I’d stopped in every shop downtown this morning and passed out my new business cards to let everyone know that Vintage Interiors was up and running. Then I headed back to the flower shop.
“Hey, I’m back,” I said as Beatrice looked up from the arrangement she was putting together. “That looks gorgeous.”
“Yeah? It’s for Oscar and Edith. They said they wanted an arrangement that would turn heads,” she said with a laugh. “I don’t know what turns heads, so I’m just trying to figure it out as I go.”
“That definitely turned my head.” I came around the counter to stand beside her. She had a gift for floral arranging, which was why I’d hired her.
“Good. Did you pass your cards out to everyone?”
“I did. So now I’ll wait and see if anyone calls.
I know it’ll take time, so I’ll just have to be patient.
” I reached for the stack of floral orders that we still needed to fill.
It was the end of November, so everyone would focus on Christmas soon.
We would get very busy over the next month.
December was the busiest time of the year for us.
“You’ve totally got this. You’re so talented. And you know I’m happy to pick up the slack here when things get busy.”
“Thank you,” I said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “I appreciate it. But seeing as I don’t have one single client, I think we’re okay for now.”
She chuckled, and we both got to work putting together several orders.
The day went by in a blur, as we received a large shipment of florals and supplies that we needed to unpack.
I hurried out to meet my parents at the Honey Biscuit Café after work. I wanted to fill them in on Vintage Interiors, as I’d only briefly told them about filing for my business license.
“Your parents beat you here,” Oscar said. He and his wife owned the café. “I gave your dad an earful about the snarky comments about our menu that were in ‘The Taylor Tea,’ and he laughed.”
“Sounds about right.” I shrugged. “‘The Taylor Tea’ has brought sales up for the paper, so I don’t think they’re upset about it.”
“I heard you took a polygraph to get that grumpy Chadwick out of your hair.” A loud, boisterous laugh filled the space around me.
“How’d you hear about that?” I asked as I shook my head and smiled.
“Doug was telling us when he came in to eat here yesterday.”
Doug was the police officer who had administered the lie detector test. He and I grew up together, and he was a good guy. I was grateful he was the one to do it, and I certainly didn’t mind him telling people about it.
“Well, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.” I chuckled.
“Will you let the poor girl go see her parents?” Edith said, swatting Oscar with a dish towel.
“Hey, I’m on her side. I feel bad she’s getting the brunt of all of this, while her parents hang her out to dry and let her deal with the fallout,” he said.
Wow. Tell me how you really feel, Oscar.
“Ignore him, sweetheart,” Edith said. “We all know it’s not you writing it now. Doug made that perfectly clear, and I believe word is spreading quickly. You go and enjoy your dinner.”
“Her parents could have put an end to this harassment a long time ago,” Oscar hissed as I walked away.
He was right. I’d asked them numerous times to make a statement, but they seemed to enjoy all the speculation about the column. Even when it was at my expense.
“There she is,” my father said, pushing to his feet before wrapping me in a hug. “Hey, sunshine.”
“Hi.” I leaned over and kissed my mom’s cheek as she remained in the booth. “Good to see you guys.”
“You, too. We have lots to discuss,” my mother said as she reached for her wine glass.
Was she angry?
We paused to order when Edith stopped by to ask what we wanted. I quickly ordered a glass of wine and the chicken pot pie. My father went with the house special, meatloaf, and my mother got a chicken salad.
Margaret Taylor always ate salad for dinner.
“That’s a lot of carbs for the evening,” she said with a raised a brow.
“Yep. I’m good with it. I’ve already been on a run this morning, and I skipped lunch, so I’m hungry.” I blew out a breath.
“Let the girl eat,” Dad grumped. He always took issue with my mother and her digs about food whenever I ate in front of her.
“Listen, you’re skinny now, but who knows how long that will last. You’re in your late twenties—things could change, Emilia. I wish my mother had warned me about it back then. I had to figure it out for myself. I’m just looking out for you,” she said, as if her comment wasn’t completely offensive.
“Thank you, Mom,” I said, trying to hide my irritation. “But I’ve worked hard to have a healthy relationship with food, and I’m grateful for it. I exercise and eat well most of the time, and if I want to have a chicken pot pie every now and then, I’m okay with it.”
“What is going on with you lately?” she said, shaking her head as if she’d been holding in these thoughts.
“You go and get a polygraph test, which completely blindsides us. You then file for a business license, when you’re already running the flower shop.
And now you’re defensive about a chicken pot pie? ”
I’m defensive?
I thought I just made it clear that I am happy about the damn chicken pot pie.
“That’s a lot to unpack,” I said. “So let’s start with one thing at a time.”
“Yes, I think we should unpack all of it,” Mom said as she held her glass up and caught Edith’s attention, requesting a second glass.
“Okay, well, for starters, you shouldn’t have been blindsided by the polygraph test. I asked you both to print something in the paper that would make it clear that I am not the author of ‘The Taylor Tea.’ But you felt that it would be going against your journalistic integrity.
I get it. But I’m not writing the column, and I wanted to clear my name.
I told you a week ago that I was doing this.
Why would you be surprised when I went through with it?
It wasn’t a secret. I was open with you about it.
” I reached for my glass of wine. I was clearly going to need it, considering my mother appeared to be enraged, and all that venom was directed at me at the moment.
“And we were supposed to take you seriously? I thought you were kidding.” She flattened her lips as her nostrils flared.
“Sweetheart, we were just caught off guard. A lot of people thought it was you,” Dad said.
“I’m aware. And it was affecting business at the flower shop, and I didn’t appreciate being accused of something that I wasn’t doing.
” I paused when Edith set our food down in front of us, and she winked at me.
Almost like she could sense that there was a two-against-one situation going on at the table, and I was the odd woman out.
I am always the odd woman out with these two.
“You’re worried about ‘The Taylor Tea’ hurting business at the flower shop, yet you’ve filed for another business license?
I’m guessing that will also have an impact on the flower shop.
” My mother had a gift for arching her brow in a way that let you know she was judging you—and she didn’t like what she saw.
I took a bite of my delicious carb-filled chicken pot pie as I processed her words.
“The negativity around me writing ‘The Taylor Tea’ was the reason that the Vintage Rose got egged, which in turn looks bad for business. Me opening my design company doesn’t hurt the flower shop.
Beatrice will increase her hours if this business takes off.
I can still oversee everything, and increase her hours to full-time, and even bring on another employee if needed. ”
My mother chuckled. It wasn’t the good kind of lighthearted laugh; it was fueled by irritation, and it was a laugh I was very familiar with.
“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that.
You have no experience. Do you honestly think clients are just going to walk in the flower shop and ask if you know of an interior designer? ”
I swallowed down the lump in my throat and reached for my glass of wine, taking a sip while I let my father jump in.
“That’s a bit harsh, Margaret,” Dad said.
“What she means is that you live in a small town, and it will be challenging to get clients. Plus, I would assume designing a home is a lot of work. This feels more like a”—he tapped his chin with his finger as he tried to think of the word, and I prepared myself to be offended—“a hobby. A pipe dream. And you always have been our little daydreamer, haven’t you? ”
He said it as if I should be flattered by his words, and I was anything but. I often wondered how I was part of this family.
They didn’t get me.
They didn’t want to get me.
And that stung. I’d always put my family first. It was the right thing to do. But they never acknowledged that. They never acknowledged the sacrifice I’d made to take over the flower shop.
They’d never acknowledged my own personal dreams.
“It’s not a pipe dream,” I said, straightening my shoulders and meeting my father’s gaze head-on before turning to look at my mother.
“I actually have my degree in interior design, and I went to school to do this, not to run a flower shop. Yes, it will be challenging to get things going, but we don’t have a design firm here, and there are always people looking for help in creating their dream home.
I have a business plan. I have business cards. I have a website up and running.”
My mother’s eyes widened, as she was clearly startled by my words. “Wow. You’ve really thought about this.”
“Yes. For a long time.”
Dad nodded. “Well, let’s just see how it goes.”
“As long as the flower shop remains your priority. That’s a family business we’re letting you run, Emilia. So with that comes responsibility.” My mother moved a cherry tomato around on her plate before finally forking a bite of her salad.
“Letting me run the family business?” I scoffed.
“I love you guys, I really do, but that’s a stretch.
I did not want to take over the Vintage Rose, but I did it because you needed me to.
I’ve also tripled the revenue since taking over five years ago.
So, let’s get real. You aren’t letting me do it—I’m doing you the favor.
You have yet to relinquish any ownership to me. ”
The Vintage Rose was owned by my parents and my grandmother. They were the owners; I was an employee.
“And we rely on that income, and so does Gram,” my mother said.
“Okay, things are getting a little out of hand.” Dad blew out a breath. “We hear you, sweetheart. We will try to be more supportive. Maybe you could come spruce up our place, and we can be your first customer.”
I’d rather spend my days in the flower shop than have my parents give me a pity job.
“It’s all right, Dad. I’d like to find some clients organically. But if you are willing to let me run an ad in the newspaper, I would appreciate it,” I said.
“Those ads aren’t cheap, Emilia, and I doubt your new business can afford advertising right now,” Mom said as she set her fork down on her plate.
Dad looked as surprised as I probably did.
“Come on now, we can give her the family discount.” He chuckled.
“She wants to make this happen on her own. Organically, right?” Mom shrugged. “So we wouldn’t be doing you any favors giving you a freebie ad. You should do it the right way, like everyone else.”
I nodded, my hand gripping my fork hard. She thought she could break me, but she was wrong. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
We ate the rest of our dinner in silence, and my father finally spoke, trying desperately to lighten the mood.
He brought up the upcoming weekend, because Jacoby and his girlfriend, Shana, were coming home.
I was grateful for the change in topic and ready for the evening to come to an end.
There was a heaviness when I hugged my mother goodbye, a distance that I’d always felt from her.
I’d tried for years to improve our relationship, but it just hadn’t happened.
I’d always felt this animosity from her that I’d never understood.
She’d always laugh it off, saying that mother-daughter relationships were complicated, but it was more than that.
I truly felt as if my mother didn’t like me. I’d felt that way for most of my life, and I’d tried desperately to turn our relationship around. But at this point in my life, I’d realized that I couldn’t fix things on my own. She had to want to fix our relationship, too.
After an awkward hug goodbye, I waved goodbye and walked home.
I startled when I saw a giant box sitting on my front porch. I hadn’t ordered any new furniture, and it was large enough to be holding a chair or nightstand inside.
I had to maneuver around the side of it to get to my front door. A note was taped to the outside of the box.
Emilia,
Let’s move on and leave the past where it belongs… behind us.
I’m attaching Brenner’s phone number below, and you can text him your schedule and he will arrange installation for you.
Bridger Chadwick.
You’ve got to be kidding me. It needed to be installed?
Let’s leave the past where it belongs?
Yeah, buddy. The way to do that is by giving me the simple apology that I requested.
I stormed inside the house and grabbed a steak knife before marching back out to the front porch and cutting the top of it open. I looked inside.
I blinked multiple times, processing what he’d sent me.
Was he messing with me?
Bridger freaking Chadwick had gone too far.
I’d asked for an apology, and instead he’d sent me a goddamn toilet!