at a bar down the street. If it’s okay, I’ll just hang with you and get
started right now.”
- • •
Two hours later, I’m convinced I’ve met my new best friend. And she
really is a Pinterest whore.
We write “Keep” and “Toss” on sticky notes, and slap them on
everything in the room. She’s a fellow believer in upcycling, so we
come up with ideas for at least 75 percent of the stuff left in the
building. The rest she says her husband can throw out when he has
free time. Once we know what we’re going to do with all the stuff, I
grab a notebook and a pen and we sit at one of the tables to write
down design ideas.
“Okay,” she says, leaning back in her chair. I want to laugh, because
her white capris are covered in dirt now, but she doesn’t seem to care.
“Do you have a goal for this place?” she asks, glancing around.
“I have one,” I say. “Succeed.”
She laughs. “I have no doubt you’ll succeed. But you do need a
vision.”
I think about what my mother said. “Just make sure it’s brave and bold,
Lily.” I smile and sit up straighter in my chair. “Brave and bold,” I say.
“I want this place to be different. I want to take risks.”
She narrows her eyes as she chews on the tip of the pen. “But
you’re just selling flowers,” she says. “How can you be brave and bold
with flowers?”
I look around the room and try to envision what I’m thinking. I’m
not even sure what I’m thinking. I’m just getting itchy and restless,
like I’m on the verge of a brilliant idea. “What are some words that
come to mind when you think of flowers?” I ask her.
She shrugs. “I don’t know. They’re sweet, I guess? They’re alive, so
they make me think of life. And maybe the color pink. And spring.”
“Sweet, life, pink, spring,” I repeat. And then, “Allysa, you’re
brilliant!” I stand up and begin pacing the floor. “We’ll take
everything everyone loves about flowers, and we’ll do the complete
opposite!”
She makes a face to let me know she isn’t following.