Chapter 5 #2
Emma shook her head. ‘Sorry, but you can ask Fenna. She has another flower stall further down that way—’ She pointed along the canal. ‘She always has lovely flowers and unlike Finn, will be happy to talk to you.’
Emma gave her a description of the stall and some easy-to-follow directions.
‘Thanks. So, have you been here long?’
‘Two years. I used to sell from a small cart in the city centre, but when this place became available I couldn’t say no.’ She lifted a wooden tray stacked high with treats and placed it behind her.
Rosie took a second to look around the rest of her shop.
Jars full of everything from pickled fish to olives, vegetables and sweet jams lined the shelves.
Intermixed were boxes of crackers, bags of stroopwafels , and cured sausages.
Just looking at it all made her incredibly hungry, and she realised she hadn’t yet had breakfast.
‘Can I buy a bag of stroopwafels , please?’
‘No, but I’ll give you one as a welcome present.’ Emma took one from the nearest shelf and handed it over.
‘No, I couldn’t!’ Rosie protested, but Emma was not to be deterred.
‘I insist. Please.’
As she was handing them over, a tall handsome man with thick horn-rimmed glasses passed them by and Emma pulled back, leaving Rosie’s hands dangling in the air.
‘Hi, Noah,’ Emma called out and the man smiled and raised his hand in greeting.
‘Hi, Emma.’ A blush began to colour his cheeks, and he turned away and walked on.
Before Emma could say any more, he’d gone, and her shoulders fell.
‘Everything all right?’ Rosie asked, reaching out for the stroopwafels again, and this time Emma let them go. Rosie knew she was being nosy but couldn’t help asking. ‘Does he work here too? Is he not very nice or something?’
‘Noah? No, he’s the nicest man I ever met– I mean—’ Emma began to blush too, and she dropped her eyes. Was he the one she’d been looking at earlier? ‘He’s normally very polite. He must just be busy. He was talking to me this morning.’
‘He did look in a rush.’ Rosie could tell there was something more going on but didn’t want to press too much, given that they hardly knew each other.
Perhaps when she’d been working here for a week or two she’d be able to ask more about it.
Rosie offered Emma one of her stroopwafels from the open packet and she took one.
‘Thank you. So, when will you open and what’s your shop called?’
‘Saturday. I’m just about to deliver my business plan to the Marktbureau and then I need to source some flowers, and the truth is, I don’t know what my shop will be called. I had thought something like Rosie’s Blooms but that’s boring.’
‘It is a little. No offence.’
Rosie chuckled. ‘None taken. I know I need to come up with something else.’
‘I’m sure you will. If you’re selling flowers then Fenna is definitely the person to talk to. And she’s really kind and always happy to offer advice. She’s been here for years and helped me when I first arrived. She helped me make friends here.’
‘I can’t wait to speak to her then.’ Rosie gave a huge grin. ‘This is delicious, by the way. I’ll definitely be back later to buy some bits for my dinner. Your stall looks amazing.’
‘Thank you.’ Emma beamed. ‘It’s my pride and joy. And the market is the most wonderful place to work. You’ll love it here.’
‘I’m sure I will. See you later.’
The thought that she’d made a friend, or at least knew someone friendly at a neighbouring stall, lifted Rosie’s spirits as she made her way down to Fenna and introduced herself.
Fenna was probably in her mid-fifties, her long blonde hair highlighted with strands of silver.
She had rosy cheeks and wide, bright grey eyes.
She also had two members of staff working for her and a stall equal in size to Finn’s.
As there was a coffee shop nearby, Rosie treated them both to a drink as a thank you to Fenna for sharing all the details of her suppliers.
‘Get your order in quickly though,’ the older woman advised.
‘The flower auctions, where they get their flowers from, always sell out quickly, so if you don’t get your request in on time, you might miss out.
Always call the day before for the next day’s flowers and be specific.
And don’t let them tempt you to go over budget. ’
‘Thank you so much for all your help. Everyone here’s so nice.’
‘Not everyone,’ Fenna said in an off-hand way.
Rosie knew she was speaking of Finn and apprehension made her chest tight.
She doubted he was going to be exactly friendly when he realised she had stolen the stall from him, even though he had more than enough premises already.
Perhaps she should bite the bullet and go and meet him?
Maybe take h im a coffee as an apology? Surely being a businessman, he’d understand that she’d had to do it.
She had to make this work. A member of staff called out to Fenna and with a quick thank you for the coffee she was forced to say her goodbyes.
Rosie took a moment to finish her drink and decide what flowers she was going to order for her first day’s trading.
Looking around, she saw that everyone was selling tulips, which could either mean they were a sure bet, or that she’d end up with lots left over at the end of the day as everyone else, who the locals knew and trusted, would sell out first. It was a conundrum.
Then she struck on an idea. As she’d walked through, she’d noticed that there were far fewer herbs on sale and, as a botanist, her mum had always championed the healing properties of plants.
What if she sold a mixture of flowers and gorgeous herbs people could use for their cooking and homeopathic remedies?
That would make her stand out from the crowd.
But what flowers and what herbs? That was the next thing she needed to figure out.
After half an hour, Rosie had made a list of everything she wanted to stock and made her flower order with the help of a translation app.
After some difficult negotiations between the man on the other end and his limited English, and her pretty much non-existent Dutch, she was ninety-nine per cent sure she’d ordered everything she needed, and it would be delivered bright and early in two days’ time.
Rosie puffed with pride. Another hurdle had been overcome and she was now ready for her first day’s trading.
All she had to do was rinse and repeat until she had enough money for a larger pitch and from there, she’d move to selling flowers on her boat and even having a shop in the centre of Amsterdam.
Rosie’s Blooms would be everywhere. She scowled.
That name was definitely boring. She’d absolutely have to come up with something more attention-grabbing, and soon.