had seen plenty of living and did not suffer fools gladly. She’d long expressed the opinion that Holly should strike out on her own.
“You’re right,” Holly agreed. “I’ll be looking for a new place to live as well.”
Sydney’s Saturday morning Herald was always chock-full of job and flat-share advertisements. Holly had actually looked before; a few weeks ago, after Dave had left her for Katie. She just hadn’t had the courage at that stage to totally change her life, and to leave everything that was so familiar to her.
But she’d found the courage now.
Sara smiled her approval. “Atta girl. And don’t you go worrying about me. As soon as you’re out of here, so am I. I wouldn’t work for that cow Connie if this was the last flower shop in Sydney.”
“She is a cow, isn’t she?”
“Of the highest order. And so’s the daughter. For what it’s worth, Katie deserves Dave. I was pleased as Punch the day you got rid of him.”
“Er…he dumped me, Sara.”
“Only good thing he ever did for you. Now you can find yourself a really nice bloke, someone who’ll appreciate your qualities.”
“Thanks for the compliment, Sara, but really nice blokes are hard to find. They certainly haven’t been thick on the ground in my life. Dave’s not the first loser boyfriend I’ve had. I seem to attract the fickle, faithless type.”
“Go get yourself a job in the city, love. Where the suits are.”
“Suits?”
“You know. Men in suits. Executive types. I used to work at a flower stall in Market Place. There was an endless parade of male eye candy walking by there, I can tell you. Talk about yummy.”
“Yes, but does wearing a suit to work equate with being a nice bloke?”
“Nope. But it often equates with money. Might as well fall for a rich guy as a poor guy.”
“You didn’t.” Sara was married to a man who worked on the railways.
“Yes, well, I’m a romantic fool.”
“I’m a romantic fool as well.”
Sara pulled a face. “Yeah. Most of us girls are. Oh well, you’d better go get that Herald before they’re all gone.”
Holly bought the last paper in the newsagent’s and hurried back to study the classifieds between customers, but the news was disappointing. There weren’t very many jobs for florists advertised that weekend. And only two in the city. As for sharing a flat…
The reality of moving in with strangers after living on her own for two years made Holly shudder. Yet she couldn’t afford to rent somewhere decent by herself, not unless her salary was pretty good. She certainly couldn’t afford to buy a place. She had some savings but not much. A couple of thousand. Having Dave as a boyfriend had not been cheap. She’d ended up paying for most things, his excuse being he was saving up for their future together.
Like, how gullible could a girl get?
Facing her shortcomings was not a pleasant experience. But by the time Sara left to go home at four o’clock and Holly began closing up the shop, she’d come to terms with her own pathetic performance as a supposedly adult woman. She had no one to blame but herself if her life was a shambles. She’d taken the line of least resistance and allowed people to walk all over her.
But no more. Come Monday morning she would get in contact with one of the many services who did professional résumés. She’d never had to apply for a job before but she knew you had to present yourself well. Then she would apply for those two jobs in the city. Sara was right. The city was the way to go.
But she wasn’t going to fall into the trap of accepting any job that paid poorly. She would need a good salary if she wanted to keep living by herself.
She didn’t have to rush. Businesses like A Flower A Day did not sell overnight. She probably had a couple of months at least to make her plans and execute them.
Meanwhile, she wasn’t going to breathe a word to Connie. And she would stash away every cent she could.
The sight of a huge bunch of red roses sitting in a bucket in the corner brought Holly up with a jolt. It was a phone order she had taken yesterday afternoon. Not one of her usual clients. A man, who’d promised to pick them up by noon today.
With a sigh, she checked her records, found his name and number, and rang.
An answering machine. Botheration. She hated answering machines.
After leaving a message saying she’d cancelled the order, Holly hung up with a sigh.
What a waste. Such lovely red roses. Expensive, too. He hadn’t wanted buds, but open flowers. They wouldn’t last more than a few days. Impossible to sell them to anyone else.
And then an idea came to her.
Mrs Crawford. She absolutely loved roses, and she wasn’t due to leave on her overseas jaunt till the end of next week. Holly could call them a going-away gift. Plus a thank you for all the times she’d dropped into the shop for a chat and a cuppa.
Nice woman, Mrs Crawford.
If Holly’s thoughts drifted momentarily to Richard Crawford, she didn’t allow them to linger. Yet there was a time when she’d thought about Mrs Crawford’s precious only son quite a bit. She’d even woven wild fantasies around him, about their meeting one day and his being bowled over by her.
Sara was right. Most women were romantic fools!
Flicking her address book over to the Cs, she checked Mrs Crawford’s number and rang to make sure she’d be there.
Engaged.
Oh, well, at least she was home.
Holly bent to scoop the roses out of the bucket, wrapped them in some silver paper and tied them with a red bow the same colour as the blooms. She would walk up to Mrs Crawford’s house and give them to her personally. It wasn’t far and the day was still pleasantly warm. The sun didn’t set till late and it was only four-fifteen.
When Holly set out, it never occurred to her that Richard Crawford might be at his mother’s house, even if it was the weekend. Mrs Crawford had told her just the other day that she rarely saw her son any more. Apparently, he’d been promoted to CEO at his bank—the youngest ever!—and was more of a workaholic than ever.
Holly took her time, strolling rather than striding out, enjoying the fresh air and mentally running through her list of things to do in the coming weeks.
Number one. Find a job, preferably in the city.
Number two. Find a flat, preferably near the city.
Number three. Find herself a nice bloke. Preferably one who wore a suit and worked in the city.
Holly pulled a face, then struck number three off her list. That could definitely wait a while.
Regardless
