Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!

I’m not going to get these done in time! I look at my phone. I have an hour left before Roberto, the driver, has to pack the centerpieces up and drive them to the wedding venue in Malibu. I’m working as fast as I can, but the flowers are still not cooperating. The design is simple enough: opaque ivory white vases with a band of thick yellow ribbon around the bottom. The splash of yellow is the perfect complement to the yellow and white flowers inside the vase and acts to extend the crisp color scheme of the wedding decor.

When I went over this design with the bride and groom three weeks ago, I thought that it would be a walk in the park, since the vases aren’t see-through. That means there’s no need to worry about the arrangement of stems. Those can be such a hassle! The bride wanted something simple and yellow and this was supposed to be a breeze.

I like to have my centerpieces done completely the night before, but unfortunately there was some sort of tulip emergency, and they didn’t get here until this morning! We’re lucky they came at all.

“Don’t worry, it’s going to be okay,” Cynthia mutters under her breath. Cynthia is my assistant and oldest friend. She’s usually the one that’s freaking out all the time, but this time she’s the one staying calm. Not a good sign.

I cut the stems in the sink and carefully arrange the jonquils, sweet peas, ranunculus and finally the tulips in the second to last centerpiece. Cynthia has already laid them out for me and made the first ten centerpieces. I look at my phone again. We only have five more minutes before Roberto shows up. We need at least ten minutes to look over each centerpiece and make sure that it’s perfect.

My mind and hands have never worked so well together. I’m cutting, arranging, coiffing, and adjusting at record speed. Even though Cynthia is the type to talk endlessly when she’s nervous or anxious, she knows better than to disturb me now. A few minutes later, Roberto arrives and everything is almost ready. There’s only one more centerpiece left to check.

“Wow, I can’t believe you got it all done,” Cynthia says.

I take a step back from the table. My light turquoise long sleeve shirt is drenched in sweat. The apron I’m wearing is barely covering it and, even though I’ve known Cynthia for many years, I hope she doesn’t notice.

Cynthia and I help Roberto load up the van.

“Why don’t I just go to the venue myself?” she asks. “You can stay here and relax.”

I’ve never not gone and set up the centerpieces myself, but this has been a very stressful job and I’m leaning toward letting go of some control.

“Are you sure?” I ask.

“Yes, of course!” She has a surprised look on her face, like she can’t believe that I’m actually going to let her do this.

“I’m going to make it perfect,” she adds.

I know she will. She’s even more of a perfectionist than I am.

Cynthia and I have known each other since we were 13. Her parents are like my second parents, and I practically lived with them after the accident. My parents died in a car accident, the summer after we graduated from University of Southern California. I had a job lined up at a boutique investment bank in downtown LA, but after the accident, I couldn’t take it. I didn’t do anything for a whole year, and Cynthia and her family took me in and cared for me. I was 22, way beyond the legal age, but after their death, I became a lost teenager again. It took me close to two years to finally feel normal again. Or as normal as I could.

After Cynthia and Roberto leave, I decide to make myself sangria. I don’t drink often, but I’m in the mood right now. I cut up apples and oranges into squares and toss them into a pitcher and add three tablespoons of organic brown sugar. After muddling everything with a wood spoon, I add a cup of orange juice and a third of a cup of brandy for taste and muddle it again. Then I dump a bottle of Albero Spanish Red, a dry Spanish red wine, and taste it. It needs something else. I add a splash more of brandy and a little more brown sugar to sweeten the mixture. After adding ice and garnishing the rim of the pitcher with orange segments, I pour myself a glass and go out onto the porch.

This account is the biggest one I’ve had to date. The bride’s parents are spending more than $500,000 on the wedding. When I showed them around my shop and showed them my proposal for the centerpiece designs, I was certain that there was no way that they were going to go with me. I have excellent designs, don’t get me wrong, but I also have a little shop in Topanga Canyon, not some fancy storefront in Malibu or Beverly Hills.

Topanga Canyon is a rural canyon nestled between the northern suburbs of Calabasas and Woodland Hills and the lavish ocean front homes of Malibu. It’s not a cheap area by any stretch of the imagination – you can hardly buy a house here for less than $800,000. The reason people live here and love it is because of its unique culture. Rural chic, Cynthia likes to call it. There are no developments, and there are a lot of old ranch homes. The new houses that pop up are architecturally interesting and unique. Lots of people have horses and chickens and shop for all of their food in organic farmer’s markets.

After my parents’ untimely death, I got $200,000 from their life insurance and decided to do what I always dreamed of doing: open my own floral shop. I found a small space on South Topanga Canyon Boulevard, in a little shopping center with its own unique flair. My floral shop, The Flower Patch, is sandwiched between Hidden Treasures, a vintage clothing store, and Quilts!, a quilt supply store. I got a great deal (for this area) when I signed a five-year lease for both the commercial space downstairs for The Flower Patch and the small studio apartment above. The studio apartment is technically not zoned for residential living, but the 88-year-old owner of the shopping center was kind enough to rent it to me for only $1000 a month, which is a steal. And this way, I don’t have to commute or pay much more in rent somewhere in Calabasas or Malibu.

When I first opened The Flower Patch, I thought that I would have to run it in the red for at least 6 months, but much to my surprise, lots of locals started to come in for their weekly flowers and the two nice women who ran Hidden Treasures and Quilts! also spread the word to their customers. Before I knew it, I was making a nice little profit and had time and money to think about expanding into weddings. For the floral industry, weddings are where it’s at. Flowers for weddings are typically marked up 35 to 55 percent, and that may or may not include a 20 percent mark-up for the design.

When I first ventured into weddings, a few months ago, all I did was charge a little bit less than my competitors in Malibu and Calabasas, and I started to have a lot of referrals and walk-ins. Twelve months later, the problem was keeping up with all the demand rather than drumming up business. That’s when I finally started paying Cynthia (she was a thankless volunteer and a cheerleader before then) and hired Roberto, and my two part-time assistants, Peyton and Brie. I could probably use a few more assistants, but the space won’t allow it. It’s crammed as it is when just Cynthia and I are in the room.

Cynthia thinks it’s time to expand – maybe look for another location – but I have a three-year lease, and the rent here is unbeatable. If I move, then I probably won’t be able to charge the same prices. Or worse, I might end up being just another run-of-the-mill flower shop. Here, I’m embedded in the local culture. I know my weekly customers, and they’re the ones sending me my wedding business. No matter how good expansion sounds, I’ve decided not to consider it until closer to the end of my lease.

A few hours later, Cynthia comes back. I pour her a glass of sangria, and she joins me on the porch. She hands me her phone and shows me the pictures of the centerpieces from the reception hall.

“The bride was ecstatic,” Cynthia says. Unlike most people in Southern California, she doesn’t use superlatives very often, so I know she’s not exaggerating. “And the mother-in-law. You should’ve seen her face.”

“I’m glad,” I nod.

She hands me the check. They already paid the down payment, and this is the rest of what they owe me. The sum brings a smile to my face. I take out my phone, scan it and deposit it immediately. A few months ago, one of my customer’s checks bounced, because I waited until Monday to deposit it instead of taking care of it that Friday. It took two months to finally get the money from her, but in that time, I have learned a very important lesson. Now, I deposit all checks as soon as I get them.