“Thank you, Mrs. Copeland. I hope to see you again next week.”

I finish wrapping one of my most loyal customers’ weekly purchase of six yellow roses in layers of luxurious pink tissue paper and finally, I tie them with pretty patterned ribbon before handing the bunch to her.

“Of course you will Rosie. It’s always nice to be able to get personal service here, Not like the terrible service at the supermart on the way out of town. They don’t take care of their flowers at all. They always die within a few days without fail.” Mrs. Copeland followed this with tut of annoyance before a disappointed shaking of her head.

I smile back at Mrs. Copeland and nodded meekly in agreement before she turned on her heel and left the shop. The little bell above the door tinkled gently as the door closed behind her.

I look around at my little florist shop and I sigh a little. I love this place more than anything in the world.

When I was a child, I loved flowers of all kinds, but I particularly loved the scented blooms. My parents must have known because they named me Rosie. Our house always had climbing roses covering the walls of our house, and every summer their sweet scent would fill my bedroom with their wonderful perfume.

So It’s probably no coincidence that I love flowers so much, or that I ended up being named after a flower since my parents started this place when my mom was pregnant with me. ‘Paradise Blooms’ was their other baby and my parents ran this place until they retired a few years ago.

My beautiful little shop is in a sleepy little town called ‘Greenwick’ on Main Street. We have a thriving community, but it’s hard to be a local business around here when you are competing with the big grocery store chains just out of town. People like convenience, they like to be able to do a one-stop shop, and so Main Street is a lot quieter these days, which is really bad for business.

Paradise Blooms sits in between the local baker and an artisan chocolate shop and we each fill the air daily with the glorious scents wafting from our shops. My shop has metal buckets of flowers outside my front windows in a vain attempt to try and tempt the passers-by into impulse purchases.

Inside the shop, I have every type of flower anyone could wish for in displays of all different heights around the floor and walls. There is barely a space free of flower or foliage, and it’s my real happy place. Anyone who comes into my shop for the first time always remarks on what a beautiful space it is, and it is, even if I might be a bit biased in that opinion.

I pride myself on being able to guide even the most hopeless of husbands trying to buy their wives flowers into putting together the most beautiful bouquet of flowers. I even help them to write the card to go with the bouquet. I want my customers to keep coming back and value the personal service I offer. It’s the kind of service you can’t get from big faceless stores.

The shop phone rings suddenly and disturbs my thoughts.

“Good Morning. Paradise Blooms.” I say brightly.

“Hello darling, it’s your mother.”

“Oh hi mom, How are you?”

“I’m good thank you, darling. I just thought I’d catch up with you. I’m always out and about these days, I don’t honestly know how I ever found time to work!”

I smile. I love that my parents are enjoying their retirement. They have a real spring in their step again these days. They’ve been taking trips together, my dad has taken up golf, and my mother has more time to be involved in community events again.

It made absolute sense that I should take over the family business after I finished college and moved back into town. I helped my parents out in this place after school and on weekends while I was growing up. Who better to take over than me? I know this shop better than anyone.

I feel guilty because I haven’t been seeing my parents as much lately. I’ve been so wrapped up in this place that I barely notice the days going by. Mondays rapidly turn into Fridays and before I know it another week has gone.

“So Rosie, any news for me?” My mother asks.

I roll my eyes. I love my mom, but I know what this means. It’s code for ‘Is there a guy on the scene yet?’

“No mom, no news, I don’t have time to meet people. You of all people should know how much work this place takes!”

“Yes dear, I do. But I also don’t want life to pass you by. I don’t want you to be working so hard that you have no time for love.”

She’s right of course. I can’t deny that I get lonely sometimes. I don’t date much except for the occasional cringing blind dates my girlfriends set me up on that go nowhere. I also wasn’t being untruthful with my mother, I really don’t have time to date since I work all hours in this place.

“And anyway Rosie, the shop is in great hands. I was only saying to your father the other day how pleased I am that you could take things over.”

I sigh, I can’t put this off any longer. It’s time to do the right thing.

“Hey mom, why don’t you and dad come over for dinner next Friday evening, it’d be lovely to catch up, and I can give you my undivided attention. I promise!” I offer.

“Oh, we would love to honey” my mom replies slightly over the top enthusiastically.

“Sorry mom, gotta go, a customer just came in," I say quickly before putting the phone down.

No customer had come in, and I feel an immediate pang of guilt in the pit of my stomach. I hate lying to my parents, but I don’t want to admit to them just how bad things are here.

I stare down at my shop counter and the pile of paperwork I haven’t had the heart to go through in detail yet. I do know one thing though, they are all bills. I never imagined that keeping this place going would be so difficult. Since the downturn in the economy and that big out of town grocery store opened last year, trade has really dried up.

I pick up the pile of papers, let out a little sigh and place them on the shelf under the counter in an attempt to put them out of sight and therefore out of my mind. I place my palms flat on the counter and look around my customer-less shop. I can’t bear to think of the possibility that the business is in such a bad shape that I could lose this place.

I can’t ask my parents for help because I can’t admit to them just how bad things are, and I already feel like a giant failure. The fact that my mother thinks this business is still thriving just makes matters worse really.

I suck in my breath as if to summon all of my resolve. “Rosie, you need a plan," I say out loud to myself. I refuse to give in without a fight, and I’m determined to turn this place around. I’ll do whatever it takes to not lose the family business and I hope that my parents never have to find out just how bad things have got around here.

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