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Heather Blair rushed out of the florist's shop with her arms full. She could barely see over the top of her bundle as she pushed her way along the crowded sidewalk. No one seemed to notice her as she ducked and swerved and dodged purses and briefcases and people talking and texting on cell phones. She was glad that she had put on her running shoes before she left the office. This was definitely going to be a running kind of morning.

She stopped at the edge of the sidewalk and did her best to hail a cab without dropping her armload of flowers. She heard the cab pull up more than she saw it and the cabbie of course sat in his seat and let her struggle to open the door. Once she was inside she gave him the address of her office on Burrard Street. On the drive there she thought about how excited she had been when she first opened her business and found an affordable building right in the center of the busy financial district to boot. She had taken out a small loan to get started with supplies, advertising and other overhead and in the first year she paid the loan back in full. For a while her little business was thriving, but with the dip in the economy with the exception of those considered the elite amongst Vancouver’s high society, people were planning their own weddings, on a budget. For a while Heather seriously considered taking on other things like birthday parties and quinceneras, but what she wanted...what she had always dreamt of, was to be considered amongst the top wedding planners in B.C. and maybe even in the U.S. She wanted to be the wedding planner that politicians and movie stars and people with old money called. It wasn’t about surrounding herself with the wealthy as much as it was about her drive to succeed. It was nice arranging a cozy little wedding on the beach or one where the bride and groom rode in on horses and got married on the ranch, but those weddings barely compensated her for the time she put into planning them. The only way she was going to build her little business into an empire and hopefully a legacy for her future children was by catering to people who had the money and the contacts she needed to grow.

The cab stopped at the curb in front of her office. She slid her credit card through the card reader and signed the receipt with her finger. She waited for a paper receipt to print out for what seemed like an eternity and as soon as she stepped out of the cab the driver let it roll forward.

“Hey! My stuff is still in there!” The driver hit the brake and Heather had to walk the six feet to the car to retrieve the flowers that she had just raced across town to pick up. The cab driver looked at her like she was the one being annoying and once again as soon as she closed the door he took off, almost running her over in the process. As she stomped up to the door of the building she cursed under her breath. “If I had time buddy I would be writing your cab number down and calling your supervisor.” One thing she was grateful about was her great staff. Rosie and Kimberly had been with her since she started and in three years she hadn’t received a single complaint about either of them. As soon as she stepped in the door, Rosie came around from behind the reception desk to help her.

“Miss Racine is in your office,” she told Heather with a grimace. Heather winced and looked at the clock. It was seven minutes after nine. She was seven minutes late for their appointment. 

“Thanks Rosie. How mad is she?”

“On a scale of one to Bridezilla I’d have to go with a ten and a half.”

“Great.” Heather tried not to laugh. She discouraged Rosie from calling their clients “Bridezilla,” but in this case she had to admit that it was warranted. She took the package back out of Rosie’s arms giving into the smile she said, “You didn’t feed her caffeine, did you? It makes her head spin.”

Rosie made a face and said, “She’s had two double lattes. I couldn’t stop her.”

“Great,” Heather said, the smile dropping off of her face. Taking a deep breath she went down the hall to her office and pushed open the door.

“Well, there she is.” The older woman sitting in the leather armchair was a surprise. Rosie hadn’t told her that Lyndsey’s mother was with her. That was like asking for double trouble. Twenty-lashes for her Heather thought in the most villainous voice she could muster. She was kidding herself though. If she was Rosie she wouldn’t have told her either.

“Hello Mrs. Racine,” she said. “I’m so sorry I’m late.

“Are those my flowers?” Heather looked around the bundle she was holding at Lyndsey Racine. She was standing by the window, dressed smartly as usual in a cream colored pantsuit with a dark brown silk blouse. Her blonde hair looked recently high-lighted and as usual, impeccably styled. She would be gorgeous, if she ever smiled.

“Yes Lyndsey, they are. I’m sorry I’m late. It took me a while at the florist...”

“You might think you would have done that earlier...dear,” Mrs. Racine interrupted. She smiled, almost all the time, but did it really count when she was twisting a knife in your flesh at the same time?

“I didn’t want the flowers to be wilted when Lyndsey saw them. I’m sorry again.” She went over to the rack of vases she kept in the office and began arranging the flowers by type and color. Lyndsey watched her with a deep scowl on her face. Heather couldn’t help but wonder why a beautiful woman with seemingly everything going for her was so unhappy. “There, what do you think?” Mrs. Racine got up and came over closer. Lyndsey stayed where she was about three feet away.

“I don’t like them.”

Heather thought surely she heard her wrong. There were twenty different varieties all in various colors and all of the colors Lyndsey herself had asked for. Lyndsey couldn’t possibly see them all from where she stood, much less well enough to know she wasn’t going to like any of them. “Maybe you would like to take a closer look.”

“I don’t need to take a closer look. My eyesight is fine. I don’t like them.”

Heather suppressed a sigh and looked to Mrs. Racine for help. What she got was a shrug of the older woman’s thin shoulders. “Well Lyndsey we’re kind of getting down to the wire here...”

“Perhaps if you kept our appointments and were on time for them, we wouldn’t be.”

Don’t say it, Heather. Telling this bitch what you think of her won’t help. Your business is in trouble. Be nice.  “I’m sorry Lyndsey. Maybe you could tell me which ones you kind of like and which colors and we can go from there?” Lyndsey had refused every suggestion Heather made for the flowers, and she had made a lot. That was what bringing the flowers here was about...and she hates them all. She was damned sure going to get the bill for them. 

Lyndsey finally walked over and with a distasteful look on her face she looked the flowers over. “I suppose the orchids aren’t hideous...can we get them in hot pink?” Heather once again controlled her facial expression. Hot pink? She so badly wanted to roll her eyes. Lyndsey had more money than a twenty-one year old woman had a right to, but all of the class of an alley cat. “Sure we can but...”

“There’s always a ‘but’ with you. Do you see mother? Do you see why we should have gone with that wedding planner from Manhattan?”

“Your father said her rates were much too high honey. If it were up to me you would have everything you want.”

“What does he care about her rates? It’s not like he doesn’t have the money. Daddy hates me.”

“No, of course he doesn’t,” Lyndsey’s mother was talking to her like she was five years old and both of them seemed to have forgotten Heather was even in the room. It was easy for her to see why Lyndsey was such a demanding brat anyways. “What was the ‘but’ about?” Mrs. Racine asked Heather as she stroked her daughter’s hair.

“I’m sorry, I was simply going to ask Lyndsey if she thought the hot pink would go with the forest green dresses and decorations.”

Lyndsey gave her another dirty look and said, “Of course I do or I wouldn’t have brought it up in the first place!”

Heather clapped her hands together and forced a smile. “Okay then, hot pink orchids it is!” Lyndsey picked up her Michael Kors bag and without even looking at Heather she headed for the door in her two thousand dollar Christian Louboutin pumps. Heather caught Mrs. Racine before the older woman followed her daughter out and said, “Please remind her of the cake tasting this Monday morning at nine.”

“I’ll set a reminder for her,” the older woman said, “We’ll see you soon, Heather.”

Heather held the smile in place until they were both gone and then she slammed the door and went over and dropped down into the chair behind her desk She sat there for a while with her head in her hands and had to remind herself that catering strictly to the elite would attract more clients as demanding and spoiled as Lyndsey Racine. She sighed and lifted up her head. She was a patient woman. She could do this. If the client wanted flowers and fabric that didn’t match then Heather would have to find a way to make it work.

Heather was glad that she had sent Kimberly up to Whistler Mountain to oversee the wedding revelries leading up to the wedding of another client of theirs, Sadie Marsh. Sadie was sweet and cooperative. She knew what she wanted, but she was also open to suggestions. She didn’t act like she was better than Heather and she didn’t demand things, she asked for them. As much as Heather would have rather been with her over Lyndsey, it wouldn’t have been right to expect Kim to stay behind and deal with Bridezilla and her mother. Rosie’s voice floated across the intercom.

“Heather, there’s a Michelle Banks on line one. She says she’s from Davenport Angel Investments.”

Heather felt her heart begin to speed up and her palms start to sweat as she picked up the phone. She had been waiting all week for this call. She had put in an application with an Angel Investment company after re-writing her entire business plan. She wanted to run a huge ad campaign, targeting elite clients in both her native Canada as well as Los Angeles and New York. She had some great ideas for wedding brands which were all her own...at least she hoped the investors thought they were great. She crossed her fingers and picked up the phone. This was her last chance to save her business.

“This is Heather Blair, how can I help you?”

“Miss Blair my name is Michelle Banks. I’m the assistant to Mr. Landon Hayes of Davenport Investments.”

“Hello Miss. Banks, how are you?”

“I’m doing well, thank you. Mr. Hayes wanted me to ask if you might be available on Monday the twenty-first at one p.m. for a meeting. He would like you to go over some of the finer points of your business plan with a few interested investors.”

A few interested investors! It was music to her ears. “Yes Miss Banks I can absolutely be available for that. Will we be meeting at Mr. Hayes’ office?”

“Yes. Please bring any documents you feel might be pertinent to your cause.”

“I will and thank you so much!”

“You’re welcome. Have a good day.” I will now, Heather thought. She hung up the phone and yelled, “Yes!” at the top of her lungs. A few seconds later Rosie pushed open the office door.

“Are you okay?”

Heather smiled. “I’m better than okay Rosie. I have a meeting with “several” interested investors on Monday!”

“Omg! That’s amazing news.” Rosie echoed. They both laughed and then Heather said, “You know what? I don’t have any appointments the rest of the day. I think I might run up to Whistler Mountain and see how things are going with the Michaels’ wedding and if Kimberly needs any help.”

“Okay, so you won’t be in tomorrow?” Heather kept the office open on Saturdays. Rosie came in and worked half a day usually and Kimberly worked if they were in the heat of planning a wedding. Heather worked all day long every Saturday. Sometimes it was hard, but she knew hard work was the only way she would ever get ahead.

“Yes, I’ll be here. I’m just going up for the day.”

“Are you sure it’s safe to drive up there right now? I heard there was a storm coming in this weekend.”

“I’m sure it will be fine. I’ll rent a four wheel drive. Driving always calms me and clears my head. When I get back I’ll be refreshed and ready to tackle those damn hot pink orchids for Lyndsey.”

“Hot pink?” Rosie asked with her lip curled.

“Hot pink,” Heather said again. Rosie made a gagging motion with her finger. Heather laughed. “Exactly!”