Chapter Text
“Abigail will you please stop gawking and help me with these corsages?”
“Did you see how she was looking at me Carol? Do you think she was flirting?”
“Well given that she had come in to order flowers for her wedding, I would say no.”
Abby Gerhard, a brunette with a sarcastic smile, playfully smacked her best friend’s shoulder than began to glue ribbon to the bracelets waiting in front of her. Carol Ross, a tall blonde with striking blue eyes laughed silently at her friend's antics and continued to cut small pieces of greenery for the corsages.
It is a regular day at “The Morning Glory”, the flower shop the two friends own together, located in the West Village in Manhattan. The store was situated in one of the older neighbourhoods nestled within the long rows of oak and ash trees, its sage and ivory coloured facade set it apart from the various brick-covered storefronts. Despite the shop's casual charm and secluded spot, Abby and Carol received the most business out of the florists in the area, thanks to their loyal customers and the constant word of mouth.
Carol glanced down at the vintage watch adorning her wrist. She smiled to herself as she continued on with her work.
“When will Rindy be here?” asked Abby. Carol’s actions did not go unnoticed.
“I’m not counting down the minutes Abby,” said Carol defensively.
Abby smirked. “I’m not judging you Carol, she’s your daughter and you haven’t seen her in two weeks. I’d be surprised if you weren’t counting down the minutes. So... how long?”
Carol smiled and shook her head. “A couple of hours. Harge is bringing her here after her track practice,” she said as she placed the finished corsages in their individual paper boxes.
“You two are lucky you know. Most divorces end ugly,” Abby emphasized.
“Well we aren’t ugly people,” Carol quipped.
“You’re also both gay.”
“I guess that helped move it along too.”
The two women bursted into fits of laughter. A brief silence followed as Carol pinched the bridge of her nose.
“I can’t believe that Rindy is thirteen now,” Carol mused, “I don’t get enough time with her to start, but now she’s growing up and probably won’t want to spend her free time with me.”
Abby made direct eye contact with her friend. “Carol, that is not going to happen. That girl adores you, you know that.” Carol smiled weakly.
“Anyways,” Abby continued, “perhaps this is the perfect time for you to expand your hobbies from just gardening and sourcing vintage furniture?”
Carol’s brow narrowed. “What do you mean?”
Abby gently wrapped Carol’s hands in her own. “I mean you’re a beautiful thirty-five year-old woman who hasn’t really been in a relationship since your short lived marriage.”
“Wow, I’m pathetic aren’t I?”
“You’ve spent these past years being extremely dedicated to The Morning Glory and being a mother to Rindy, but you need to make sure you’re happy too. Go find yourself a lady to love,” Abby said earnestly.
Carol threw her arms in the air in frustration. “Where am I going to do that? I’m thirty-five, a divorcee, and have a teenage daughter, as you’ve mentioned.”
Abby went back to her work. “Who knows, maybe she’ll find you.”
- - - -
Meanwhile across West Village…
Slam!
Therese Belivet, a well-defined woman with a strong brow strode through the doors of, “Karmanline”, a multimedia art gallery that she founded and owns.
She juggled a camera bag, tripod, a bucket of paint, two canvases and several rolls of fabric. She walked towards the front desk but started to lose her grip on some of the items. A young man and also her closest friend, Dannie McElroy, emerged from the back of the gallery and rushed over to Therese quickly.
“How many hands do you think you have Belivet?” He exasperated as he took some of her load.
Therese dropped the rest on the front desk and ran a hand through her cropped, dark hair. Dannie looked at the items then back at his friend for further information. Therese gave him an agitated look.
“Gen had me running all over this freaking city getting things for her new exhibit,” Therese explained.
This isn’t surprising news to Dannie. “The things you do for her. What did she have to do today instead?”
Therese waved her hand nonchalantly. “Who knows, but she said if I didn’t get the materials then the exhibit would be cancelled.”
“Rotten luck that your ex is one of the most popular artists in the gallery huh?”
“If it were up to me I would never have to see or talk to her again,” Therese said as she picked up some of the supplies and continues through the gallery. Dannie followed, holding the camera and tripod. The two pass several different art pieces along the way including paintings, photographs, sculptures and clothing designs.
“You know the main reason she works here is to bother you. I think she’s hoping you’ll give her another chance.”
“Well she’s going to be hoping for a long time. I’m swearing off women for the near future. I don’t need the distraction,” Therese said firmly.
“You’re twenty-seven Belivet, live a little!”
Dannie waited as Therese opened the back door that lead into several studios and offices for the artists. The two walked down the hallway and arrived at the studio that was marked in red paint to be Gen’s. They stacked the materials in a neat pile beside the door. Dannie gestured towards the heap.
“What is she doing with the camera and the tripod? Is Gen breaching into your territory now?”
“She wouldn’t tell me when I asked, so when she needs help I hope she doesn’t expect to receive it from me.”
“Have any ideas of what your next exhibit is going to be about?”
“I don’t know yet. I was thinking of taking a step away from human study and delving into the natural world. Sounds a bit Bob Ross-esque I know, but I want to put my own spin on it.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“Well that’s the part I’m working on McElroy,” Therese said teasingly.
“You could start by immersing yourself in it. I don’t think your Manhattan loft apartment is going to bring you any inspiration.”
“Ha, ha, ha. But you’re right Dannie, I should listen to you more often!” Therese lightly punched Dannie in the chest.
Half an hour later, Therese was walking through the streets of the West Village with her Canon III in hand. It was a much older model but she enjoyed its simplicity and prefered the look of film to digital photography.
The West Village was hardly abundant in nature and Therese spent her time capturing various trees and flower boxes. She happened upon one street in particular that had more trees than the rest. As she started to walk down it, she noticed a cute shop across from her, nestled between a row of uniform brownstone businesses. Several plants and flowers lined the outside, while the inside was also bursting with a variety of colour and textures. In one of the windows “The Morning Glory” has been painted in elegant cursive.
Therese crossed the street.