Chapter 6
Elsie
“He never should have made the team in the first place.”
“Yeah, well, you wouldn’t know a baseball from a football if it smacked you in the face.”
“I can’t believe the wedding is less than four months away.”
“Did you see that new mower Hank bought last week? What a beaut.”
“Can you pass me the garlic bread, Elsie, dear?”
I hand the basket over to my mother, half tuned into the conversations happening around me.
Sunday dinners at my parents’ house are never quiet, even on the evenings that it’s just my parents, the twins and I.
Tonight, though, Grace and Olivia are here, the seven of us crowded around our dining room table that’s barely big enough for the six it’s supposed to seat.
Even with Georgia and Aiden away at college, the unspoken rule is that they’re expected to make the twenty-minute drive for dinner every week. Now only two months away from the end of their junior year, I can probably count on one hand the number of Sunday dinners either of them has missed.
“How was your day, Elsie?” Grace asks pointedly from her spot across from me, seated between Georgia and my dad.
She and Olivia drop in for Sunday dinners all the time, but tonight they’re here for moral support.
They know I’m nervous to tell my parents about starting my own business.
Terrified might actually be more accurate.
When I finally fessed up to my family about the floristry classes I’d been taking at the local college in secret, their reactions were about what I expected: lukewarm support but mostly confusion.
It’s no secret that my dad always hoped us kids would want to work with him someday.
He doesn’t have some big empire by any means – just two hardware stores, one in town and one closer to Portland – but he’d made it clear growing up that if any of us kids wanted a role in his business, he’d always have a spot for us.
When I double majored in business administration and finance in college, he was ecstatic.
I hadn’t yet considered the idea of working as a florist, and I really didn’t have any other career goals.
My biggest priority was staying in Port Myles, close to my family and everyone here that I know and love.
When my dad offered me a job at Carmichael’s, it didn’t take much convincing.
I’ve been doing a combination of finances, inventory and HR for his business ever since.
“It was good,” I offer hesitantly. I grab my glass of wine for a bit of liquid courage and take a big sip. My mom’s been serving the same chardonnay with Sunday dinners for as long as I can remember. I don’t even like it much, but it’s never occurred to me to tell her.
When did I turn into this person? So afraid to rock the boat and disappoint anybody that I shrink myself down to the most palatable version, all smooth edges and sweet smiles and ready with a “sure, no problem” anytime someone asks something of me.
“It was great, actually,” I blurt out. Every head at the table turns to me.
I glance around, noting Aiden’s raised eyebrows and my mom’s encouraging smile.
The old grandfather clock in the entryway chimes, letting me know we’ve been sitting around the table for a full hour already.
One last blissful hour, before my parents’ expectations of me finally crumble.
“Oh yeah? What was so great?” my dad asks.
I take a deep breath, gripping my glass tighter with one hand and shoving the other beneath my thigh to keep it from shaking.
Here goes nothing.
“You know that old dance studio, the one Mrs. Davis used to run?”
“Sure,” my mom says. “That big building on the corner, next to Stop ‘n Chop.”
The only salon in town has been a staple for as long as we’ve been living here.
Aside from a bob with microbangs back in my early college days (which, in all fairness, my hairdresser did try to talk me out of), they’ve always done wonders on my long, thick hair that can be a bit unruly on a good day.
It’s why I’m always tucking it into braids and ponytails.
“I used to dance there,” Grace chimes in. “Until they kicked me out because I refused to take my tap shoes off. They were way cooler than those ballet slippers; what did they expect?”
Everyone chuckles and my shoulders relax, some of the tension easing out of them. I can always count on Grace to break the ice. I feel her nudge my foot under the table and I meet her eye, then Olivia’s. She gives me a subtle nod.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I take the leap.
“I’m going to be leasing it,” I announce. “Well, half of it, anyway. I’m going to open my own flower shop.”
My announcement is met with a heavy silence.
Forget hearing a pin drop. I think someone could sneeze two blocks over and the Carmichael family would hear it.
“What do you mean, you’re opening your own flower shop? And leasing a building? Else, why is this the first we’re hearing of this?”
I had prepared myself for my dad’s disappointment. His confusion. Heck, maybe even anger for leaving him high and dry with a position to fill at work.
What I didn’t expect was the hurt that laces each of his words.
“You know I’ve been taking those classes at the college for the last couple semesters,” I offer weakly, like it’s a perfectly reasonable jump from taking classes in my spare time to starting my own business and all but signing the lease before telling them.
“You told us you were taking some classes for fun,” my dad reminds me. “You didn’t say anything about this.” Confusion is etched into the lines of his face, but the hurt is there too, in the lines around his mouth, the divot between his drawn eyebrows.
“Why don’t you start at the beginning?” my mom offers gently. She reaches over and squeezes my dad’s hand where it rests on top of the table. He links his fingers with hers, a practiced move as easy as breathing after all their years together.
I glance at the twins, who are busy looking at each other and doing that silent twin telepathy thing that’s always driven me crazy. This time, though, it doesn’t take much effort to interpret them. I can hear their oh shit, she fucked up as clearly as if they’d said it aloud.
“It’s no secret that I’ve always loved flowers,” I begin.
“An understatement,” Grave chimes in, and even my dad chuckles at that.
“I had never really considered the idea of being a florist until the last few years.”
“Years?” my dad asks, incredulous.
“Asher,” my mom scolds quietly. “Let her talk.”
God, I’m royally fucking this up. I never meant to hurt my family by keeping my plans a secret. Exactly the opposite, actually. I didn’t tell them about my unhappiness at work or all the thought I’d put into doing something else because I didn’t want to hurt them.
“It’s not that I don’t like my job,” I say, though it’s exactly that.
No need to drive the knife any deeper. “It’s just not something that I love and am excited to get up and do every day.
And I know that not all jobs are like that, but I started thinking about what I might actually enjoy doing, and it always came back to the same thing – flowers. ”
“Just like Nana,” my mom says softly.
“Exactly.” I pause, looking around the table again. Olivia fiddles with her engagement ring as she listens, a habit she’s picked up any time she gets nervous. A rock like hers would probably calm me down, too.
“I wanted to learn more about floristry, so I found a class they were doing on weekends at the college last semester, and one on evenings this semester. The first class was mostly about the business side of things, like sourcing flowers, caring for them, getting your shop up and running, that kind of thing. The one I’ve been taking on Monday and Wednesday evenings has been more about floral design and arrangements. ”
“That sounds right up your alley,” my mom says encouragingly.
“It really is,” I agree. “I’ve been giving a lot of thought to what I might want to do with everything I’ve been learning, and it’s gotten me thinking about how Port Myles doesn’t have a florist shop. The nearest one is in Harrisford, which isn’t far, but there’s an opportunity here.”
“You’ve really been thinking about this for a long time,” my dad grumbles.
“I have, and I’m sorry,” I tell him honestly. “I’ve been watching real estate listings for a few months now and not much has come along, until Mr. Davis’ place went up for sale.”
“That place is massive,” Aiden finally chimes in.
“It is. Which is why Mr. Davis and I met earlier today to work out a deal for me to lease half of the space. He’s going to lease the other half to a couple guys who are planning to open…
” I trail off, realizing I have no idea what kind of business the guys I met briefly plan to open.
“I’m actually not sure,” I admit. “But Mr. Davis is willing to lease instead of sell if we handle whatever renovations are needed ourselves.”
“You’d be running this place by yourself?” my dad asks.
“I will, but hopefully not for long. I might be a one-woman show for a bit, but I’m hoping to hire at least one, maybe two people to help me out.
Depending on how successful we are, it would be nice to have someone, or a couple of someones, who can help me with the day-to-day orders and arrangements, but maybe some of the business side of things, too.
I don’t want to be stuck at a desk all day.
” I glance at my dad, sheepish. “No offense.”
He studies me, his eyes raking over my face like he’s searching for something. “You’re sure about this?”
I nod, though my confidence feels shaky.
Am I sure about this? I’m sure that if I don’t at least try to make this dream a reality, I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering what could have been. And I don’t want that for myself.
“I’m sure,” I finally say. “I know it won’t be easy, but I want to give it a real shot. Which means…” I trail off, searching for the right words to tell him, in no uncertain terms, that I’m going to be quitting my job.