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I spent all day Sunday making a list of vendors I had used for events I’d planned in the past. Florists and caterers. Businesses that helped book out musicians and personal decorators. I could offer my assistance experience to those who worked as freelancers while I was freelancing. And when I was done, I had two entire pages of places I could call up. Writing them down even as my hand began to cramp made me feel more productive, like I was taking leaps and bounds toward my next goal.
Which was finding a job.
I knew most of them would require special skills. Skills that I didn’t inherently have, nor was I trained in. Although being an event planner sort of made me a jack-of-all-trades, my main skill was organization. My cooking wasn’t up to the standards of a caterer, though I knew I could whip up some decent meals. I couldn’t bake fanciful cakes, so that made me almost useless to an artisan of desserts. I couldn’t sew, so that would make me a handful for seamstresses that specialized in costumes and alterations for the party guests.
But I knew I’d excel on an event staff team. Maybe for one of the venues, or maybe in some kind of an administration role with the businesses that booked out musicians they represented for gigs.
If anyone had anything available.
I focused on those first two groups of places: music businesses and venue management. I highlighted their numbers, then started going down the list. I cold-called each one of them, scratching out those that didn’t have availability and starring those that said they had something cooking up on the side they could probably come up with. None of those places told me they had any full-time, or even part-time, positions. But there were some that sounded like they’d need someone they could call in a hurry in case they had last-minute issues.
I’d even take something like that if it meant having some sort of income stream.
I went to bed Sunday morning without many prospects. I filled out a couple of applications online that places pointed me to, but the applications weren’t filled with too much information. I essentially uploaded my resume, typed out a cover letter in a text box, and filled in my basic information.
So, I woke up Monday morning with a new and revived vigor about me.
I wasn’t going to let this get me down. There were dozens of business names I could rattle off the top of my head. Ones I had made great connections with. I still knew their names, which meant I could speak with them on a personal level. That should at least get my foot in the door.
I started my calling bright and early at nine in the morning, hoping to catch them before they got well into their day.
“Hello, Mr. Brightside! It’s Violet Freesia. Yes, I’m doing well. How’s your daughter? I know she had her twins not too long ago.”
“Mrs. Bonney! It’s so good to hear from you, too. Yes, I know it’s been a while. There just haven’t been many birthdays happening, I suppose. I know, I know, it’s been a crazy year. How’s your son doing?”
“Mr. Lhu, I hear you’re already distressed this morning. What can I help with? Do you need anything?”
I was eager to find a job to help pay my everyday bills and distract me from my heartbreak. But I worked my way down my lists with no luck. Even the places I knew wouldn’t hire me didn’t have any openings right now. Everyone was booked solid, and only seven places took my information down in case they had any last-minute issues arise.
And one of the three applications I’d put in last night had already been kicked back to me.
I felt discouraged. Buried. I felt like there were insurmountable mountains in front of me that were blocking me off from a path no longer meant for me. And it didn’t help that a few of the people I called mentioned Vivien Brant in our conversations at one point. Three florists and two of the caterers I called did, actually, slipping her name right on into our friendly conversation. And it didn’t shock me in the slightest when they told me they didn’t have openings for work a little too quickly for my liking.
I knew what their answer would be the second they said that woman’s name. But I always held on to hope until my fears were confirmed.
Always with the shattered hope.
I set down my cell phone after calling the last number, and tears crested my eyes. Nothing. There was just nothing. Nothing but empty promises of last-minute work, and I watched my email as another application notification came in.
“Application Denied,” it said.
Two out of the three had now kicked back.
For the first time, it felt like Vivien’s threats weren’t hollow. Not that I doubted the woman in the first place, but I figured her mouth would put a dent in my career. Not halt it in its damn tracks. What I had wanted to do was wait until this entire thing with this ugly woman blew over before stepping back into the event planning world. Maybe snag myself a couple of part-time jobs working in the back of a shop. Out of sight and out of mind. Maybe after a few months, I could emerge again and start working. Make my way into SoHo to find clients. Maybe drive out to the Hamptons and advertise my services.
Change my name altogether and dye my damn hair.
But as I sat there, staring at the paper I had scratched onto because of crossing out numbers, I wondered if Vivien hadn’t blacklisted me for life in the city.
Bowtie Bouquet.
I’d forgotten about them. Probably because I’d only used them a couple of times for very specific parties I’d planned. They were a niche floral shop. They didn’t specialize in the frilly, extravagant flowers most people saw in floral shops nowadays. Everything they did was muted. Understated. Elegant, but refined. I quickly typed their name into the search engine and pulled up their phone number.
One last florist shop to call. And they did impeccable work.
I punched their number into my cell phone with my hand shaking as I held it to my ear.
“Bowtie Bouquet, this is Louise speaking.”
Uh-oh. That was a name I didn’t recognize.
“Yes, hi. This is—”
I hesitated on giving my name.
“Hello?” Louise asked.
“I’m sorry. I’m looking for Richard Stratford. Is he around?” I asked.
“Oh, no. I’m afraid he isn’t. He recently moved away.”
“Oh! Oh. Well, I’m sorry to hear that,” I said.
“If I’m being honest, so am I. He was a great help around this place, and I’m still learning the ropes. So, please excuse any hesitancies or unnecessary questions within our ordering process.”
That was exactly the opening I needed. A woman who probably didn’t know my name and a small complaint about how she wasn’t used to things yet.
It couldn’t have gotten any better if I had planned it.
“Actually, I was calling to talk with Richard and see if he had any job openings. He and I worked together a couple of times on some events and things. I figured maybe I’d reach out and repay him a few favors he did me,” I said.
“Well, then you have called the right shop, Miss...?”
I hesitated. “Freesia. Violet Freesia.”
“Violet Freesia...”
I braced for the rejection. For the inevitable one-eighty she was about to do on me.
“I could create such a glorious bouquet simply based off your name. Silver roses, just barely opened. One singular white carnation in the middle. A few sprigs of blossoming lavender scattered throughout to lend a pop of color and a breath of fresh air. Oh, that would be beautiful, don’t you think?” Louise asked.
I smiled. “It sounds gorgeous, Miss...?”
“Louise Spicer. But Louise is fine.”
“Miss Louise, that bouquet sounds fabulous,” I said, smiling.
“If you’re looking for a job, I’d be happy to offer you one. Ever since Richard moved and passed this place on to me, I’ve been struggling to handle both the sales end of things and the paperwork since he’s been gone.”
“I’d be perfect for something like that. I’ve got great organizational skills. And I worked at a florist shop while in college.”
“Oh, that’s fabulous! I can only offer you a part-time position, though. Is that going to be an issue?” she asked.
“That won’t be an issue at all,” I said.
“Well, why don’t you bring your resume on down to the shop tomorrow morning. Say, around eight? When I first open up? That way, I can give you my undivided attention. I’ve got some customers walking in right now. Do you know where we’re located?”
“Yes, ma’am, I do. I’ll see you tomorrow at eight!”
“See you then, Miss Freesia. I look forward to meeting with the person that says she can help. Because between you and I, I really need it.”
The two of us shared a small moment of laughter before we hung up. And the second I set my phone down, I picked Irving up and swung him around. Just the promise of something to come made me happy, and while Irving didn’t look too enthusiastic about being up in the air, I couldn’t contain myself.
“Did you hear that, Irv?” I exclaimed.
He clung to my arms, trying to get me to stop.
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. Come here,” I said.
I settled down onto the edge of my bed and began petting him. I felt him release me from his claws, and I sighed with relief. Not because he was hurting me, but because I felt the ache on my shoulders lift just a little bit. I had taken a small step in the right direction, even if it was so miniscule I had to have a microscope to see it. Even though nothing felt quite right anymore, at least working at a floral shop would keep me up to date on the events in the area. It would keep me up to date on at least the morphing of floral trends with event parties and things like that.
But the happiness was only temporary. Because soon, Ray crept back into my mind.
I wanted to share this happiness with him, and I couldn’t.
I lay down onto my bed, cuddling Irving close. He curled into me, settling his tail against the crook of my neck. I closed my eyes as the aching pain I’d become so used to wafted over my body. I missed him. His presence. His voice. His cologne. His touch. The pain I felt was nothing like when my relationship with Evan ended.
It felt so much worse, and I didn’t know how much more of it I could take.
