Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Griffin
I am sitting in the back of the shop, digging through the mess otherwise known as Ruby’s desk.
Old catalogues and random papers are mixed with floral wire and several used paper cups.
Indecipherable handwritten Post-its stick to the wall and receipts are tucked into a junk drawer.
My orderly soul is twitching. Whatever organization Ruby claims existed when Clara was here, it’s ancient history.
I’ve been through some of the computer records.
In the months before she passed, there were several times she injected her personal funds to carry the store’s deficit. Bad, bad, bad.
Ruby is a few feet away, humming along to some pop song about sunshine while I am knee deep in invoices that do not add up.
If optimism was currency, Ruby would be a billionaire. Unfortunately, what this flower shop needed was a business plan, not unwarranted enthusiasm.
“I have a great idea,” Ruby says, twirling white flowers into a bridal crown. “We could do a Valentine’s special. Buy one, get one.”
I stare at her, incredulous. “Do you have any idea what our margins are on those roses?”
She blinks. “Negative joy?”
“That is not a number.”
“Well, maybe it should be.” She grins, unbothered, and goes back to fluffing a bouquet.
Somehow, her cheerfulness is more exhausting than the cluttered desk. I mutter something about needing coffee and she chirps, “Get me a muffin while you are at it, partner.”
Partner. Right. This is going to be a long week.
Still, when she hums again, I catch myself watching her instead of the ledger. Clara, what were you thinking?