grinned maliciously, “I’m going to slap YOU with a broom if you don’t get back to work on the wedding for this weekend.”
Kim stuck her tongue out at Elly. “Do you have another interview now?”
“Mmm … no, I have a consultation with a Ms. Kepke at three,” she said, checking her appointment book, “and then another interview at five.”
Elly groaned. Ardelle had been amusing, but the whole hiring adventure had been a nightmare. She was at the point where she doubted she would find anyone that would work. It wasn’t just that the interviews had been a nightmare. Wedding season was now looming over her head—a violent storm hovering on the horizon. It was both fantastic and awful. Days that blended together into madness, endless phone calls, and lots of bride meltdowns. Yes, Elly was both dreading and anticipating wedding season. To make matters worse, training a new worker to design up to Elly’s level took months. She shook her head.
“I know someone,” Snarky Teenager piped up, her thin frame hidden behind Kim’s shoulder.
“I have a friend named Romy—well, she likes to be called Rom, like the disc drive, because she’s really into technology—anyways, she is looking for a job, and she is, like, super creative. She has these paintings that are, like, her finger markings in chocolate, but it’s supposed to be blood.”
“Thanks,” snapped Elly, rubbing her temples, “that’s a huge help. She sounds GREAT.”
Kim gave Elly an apologetic smile and ushered Snarky Teenager into the back while she jabbered on about her friend. Elly allowed herself one more aggravated sigh and then started setting up for her consultation.
First, she put a tall glass vase of colored poppies onto the table and laid out dozens of wedding books, all with elegant covers showing million-dollar weddings. Elly then laid out her consultation forms, calculators, and pens. Down onto the table went a tiny dish with petit fours, bottled water, and expensive crackers that no one ever ate. She turned on her stereo—a soothing mix of violin, piano, and Celtic choral hymns—and settled into her chair.
Consultations were one of her favorite parts of the job. It was fascinating to see the different ideas and visions that brides had for their weddings, whether it was crafty, Asian-inspired, stripes, rustic, or modern, the ideas always reflected the bride, and Elly loved being part of that picture. This, however, was a mother-of-the-bride coming in alone and those consultations were usually formal and tense, with the mother dictating every decision, and they usually ended up with flowers straight out of 1940. Elly grimaced. She heard footsteps coming up the patio. Baby’s breath, here we come, she thought. Her fingers drummed on the table anxiously.
The door opened and a beautiful older woman entered. Ashamed at the thought, Elly tried to quiet down the embarrassing voice in her head that screamed, “Be nice, this woman has MONEY.” But still, it was obvious. She had a sparkling tennis bracelet on her left wrist, and a diamond the size of a walnut on her right hand. Elly tried not to stare as its sharp clarity and emerald accents sparkled in the sun. The woman was stunning, and would have been so regardless of what jewelry she wore. She carried her elegance in her face. Her silver hair was pulled back loosely with a leather headband that matched the belt looped around her camel pantsuit. She glided across the floor, radiating light and ease.
“Hello. I’m Sunny Kepke.” She smiled brightly. Elly smiled back.
“It’s so nice to meet you. Please sit down. Help yourself to some water, petit fours, or crackers.”
Sunny reached out and grabbed all three and handed a cracker to Cadbury, who had planted his head on her knee. Elly immediately liked her.
“Well, let me tell you a little bit about Posies. We are a privately owned, independent floral shop. We cater to our client’s personality and style. It’s all about what you want, and not what we decide. We use the freshest flowers from all over the world, and we are known for our garden arrangements, but can do any style you desire. Our clients—”
Sunny put her hand lightly on Elly’s arm. “No need for the speech, dear. I know your flowers well. My best girlfriend, Meghan Bamber, sends me bouquets from you all the time.”
Elly knew Meghan. She was a sweet older lady who was one of their best clients.
Sunny continued, “I already know I want to book you for my daughter’s wedding. So, can we go from there?” She wiped the crumbs from her hand. Elly wanted to kiss this woman. “I will give you the basics and let you worry about the rest.”
Elly nodded, and began taking furious notes.
“My daughter’s wedding is at the Hotel La Vie on November 20. We are having approximately 250 guests. The ceremony will be in the hotel courtyard and the reception in their Amelia Ballroom. Our colors are seashell and metallic buttercup primarily, with thulian and pale-canary accents.”
Elly wrote down “white, gold, pink, and pale yellow.”
“We would like the main emphasis on the exotic, but also with some romantic blown-open garden flowers. Cattleya orchids—well, all orchids, really, garden roses, calla lilies, gardenias, peonies, and lisianthus. Other flowers are acceptable, but we want to keep the emphasis on these. I really love peonies.”
Elly nodded. “What were you thinking for the bouquets?” she asked.
Sunny smiled. “I was thinking all cattleya orchids for the bride, and then just a mix of flowers for the bridesmaids. I trust your artistic judgment there. There are a lot of bridesmaids. My daughter has many friends.” She paused. “There are thirteen of them.”
“Wow, that is a lot,” Elly responded. She looked down. “This sounds beautiful. Did you have an idea for the ceremony?”
Sunny pointed to a picture from the Martha Stewart magazine that showed a richly decorated church. Flowers poured from every surface.
“I think something like this. I completely trust your design instinct. I know you do beautiful work. There will be an arbor made of manzanita branches, and we would like that covered with orchids, but the rest will be up to you.”
Elly was shocked. No one had ever given her so much freedom in the designing. Normally, she spent hours on the phone discussing one corsage for an insignificant guestbook attendant. This was lovely new territory to explore.
“For the reception, we would like both tall and short centerpieces, using the garden flowers and the orchids. Lots of candles. My daughter also picked this out.”
Sunny pushed a picture across the table of a chandelier made up of huge billowy white flowers. Elly immediately recognized the picture; it was from the wedding of a rather popular talk show host. I wonder how to approach this next part, she thought. Budgets were always a sensitive subject, and brides’ desires were almost always bigger than their checkbooks.
“Sunny, I feel the need to tell you that this kind of arrangement is very, very expensive. There might be a way that we can mimic the style of it without you spending a fortune.”
Sunny frowned. “No, no, I want this. I’m not sure how much flowers cost—I’m kind of new at this—but, our budget is $45,000.”
Elly smiled and quickly calculated the normal percent of a wedding budget that covered flowers.
“Oh, sure. Well, $4,500 is a very healthy budget for flowers.
