Page 97 of The Floral Arrangement

“What are you going to do?” Hannah asked.

“I don’t know.” I sighed. It seemed like Sapphire Blooms would just be another addition to my long list of business failures. I stared glumly back at Blake’s shoe.

Failure is the steppingstone to success.The conversation I’d had with Roz weeks ago at my parents’ house echoed in my head.Most people give up too soon.

I took a deep breath. I was not going to give up on Sapphire Blooms, Red Tractor Farm or Roz. Not yet. Not until I’d exhausted every possible avenue.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-FOUR

OLIVIA

I wish Roz was here.She’d be at home in this world.

I stared up at the soaring skyscraper and swallowed. My eyes dropped to the foyer of Fred’s building. People in dark suits swarmed through the formidable revolving doors, ready to throw themselves into another week of making rich people even richer.

A chill shot down my spine. Drew, the cheating banker I’d dated, had worked in a building just like this.Maybe this was a bad idea.

A man pushed past me, briefcase in hand, jerking me forward.

“Ouch!” A pain shot through my shoulder. I glared at him. He looked like my loan officer—the one who’d refused to give me more time to pay back my loan for the recycled cooking oil business. I only needed a few more months to start turning a profit, but he wasn’t willing to wait any longer. My stomach roiled with nausea.

In fact, the last time I’d been inside a building like this, it was to speak to an attorney about the best course of action after I’d received intimidating legal notices from the bank. She’d charged me thousands of dollars to tell me that I should give up, liquidate my assets and find another job to pay back my debt.

And this was why I hated suits.

I clenched my jaw. Well, I wasn’t going to give up so easily this time. All I had to do was try to convince a man I’d just spent the last six weeks lying to that he should invest millions of dollars in Red Tractor Farm. How hard could it be?

I strode up to the revolving doors, jumping in quickly as they swung past. My heart pounded in my ears, but I managed to get in without losing any limbs.

The foyer of the building was covered, floor-to-ceiling, in expensive-looking marble. Footsteps and voices echoed around me. I strode up to the reception desk.

“Hi, I’m here to see Fred Stockdon, of Stockdon & Associates.”

A bald white man looked up at me. His eyes dropped to my clothes, and heat shot up my cheeks.

When I’d dressed this morning, I’d thought my pink-and-blue flower-print pants and purple silk blouse looked smart. But I was in Roz and Fred’s world now. I should have gone with something more subdued. However, unless I was willing to race to Macy’s and purchase some suit pants I’d never wear again, I was stuck with this outfit. I certainly wasn’t about to make the hour and a half trip home to Sapphire Springs to change.

“ID please.” The man held out his hand.

Fumbling, I pulled my wallet from my handbag, took out my driver’s license and handed it to him.

“One minute.” He raised a phone to his ear. “Olivia Mitchell to see Fred Stockdon.”

After a moment, the man frowned and looked at me. “You don’t have an appointment?”

I shook my head. “Can you tell him it’s important?”

He turned back to the phone. “She says it’s important.”

My heart pounded in my chest. Were they going to send me away? When I hopped on the train this morning, I knew it was a real possibility. My stomach sank at the thought of coming this far and not even getting to make my case to Fred.

The man put down the phone. “His assistant is checking with him. Can you step to one side please?”

I hovered near the desk while the man gave a temporary visitor’s pass to an employee who’d left theirs at home and then took another phone call.

Once he put down the phone, he waved me over. “Okay. They say you can go up. Here’s a temporary pass. Thirty-first floor.” He handed me a small white card with a barcode on it. I exhaled.

I scanned the card at the security gate, passing through into the elevator banks. I looked around, confused. Where the hell was the up button? It took me a few moments to register that, instead of pressing a button to call an elevator, I had to enter the floor number into a touch screen, which then told me which elevator to take.

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