Fashion Week was coming up. Although it was still a couple of weeks away, Flourish employees were brainstorming and organizing as though it would be their last event. Granger worked her designers and seamstresses to the bone. Lizzy had been on her feet all day as she visited various fabric stores with her colleagues. She had been so immersed in the hustle and bustle of work that she almost lost track of time.
Still, in that moment, surrounded by ribbons and applique, she thought about what Tarryn had said about visiting the Richter's. It had been a while since that day in the living room, when she had been overcome with such emotion that she cried Mrs. Richter's doubts about her feelings away. In Lizzy's mind, she had no business visiting them without it seeming strange or burdensome. There was nothing she could talk about, nothing of value she could do for the inhabitants of that home. She had the sneaking suspicion that the mere sight of her would hurt Mrs. Richter. Simply thinking about that time filled Lizzy with a reticent sadness. Just when she had finally begun to pick up the pieces again...
No. Lizzy realized what she was doing. Instantly, she stopped herself from brooding. She would not allow herself to fall into that dark place again. Not now. Once the weekend came around, she washed her hair with her favorite coconut scented shampoo, opened the curtains wide, and got out her sketchpad and pencils.
She thought about the beach, the heat, and the photo of the hermit crab. The intricacy of its green-colored shell stood out clearly in her memory. She sketched both simplistic and layered boleros, focusing on replicating the patterns of the shell. To Lizzy, the design in her mind could appeal to ladies who wanted to cover up, but still wanted something cooling on the skin. She sifted through her fabric snippets, letting her fingers sense which would be more suitable. In this manner, hours flew by and Lizzy lost herself to her imagination. When she heard her doorbell ringing, the sound almost caused her to jump.
She stretched her arms above her head, working out the kinks in her back as she approached the door. She peeked through the keyhole. Lizzy was surprised at who she saw.
"Hi," she said as she opened the door. The young man waved at her.
"Hey there," he greeted good-natured. "I was in the area, so I thought I'd pop in to see how you're doing."
"Oh, Sam," she sighed, reaching forward to give him a hug. He returned the gesture with the same warmth, patting her back before pulling away to see her smiling at him. "I was just thinking about you today."
She invited him in for some tea. He sat down, and they exchanged pleasantries. Sam was studying architecture and one of his professors was the same woman Lizzy had when she was in college. Lizzy listened eagerly as he spoke about his class, his new roommate, and the upcoming tests.
"How is your mom doing?" she asked, stirring in a few teaspoons of sugar into her tea.
Sam had just finished his second cup. He quieted, before answering, "Mom's fine, I guess. She's been joining all these clubs to fill up her time. Keeping busy with her cake orders too, you know. I'd say that's a good sign. You should see what the garden looks like now, though. I think we're on the verge of creating a little village for gnomes."
Lizzy smiled, finding these little details comforting in a way. Mrs. Richter had seemed lost, almost like a ghost, the last time Lizzy had seen her. Although a part of her knew things would never be the same, that memories of David would never die, Lizzy knew that living in the past would have consumed everyone until nothing remained. It seemed as though the sensible part of her had finally outgrown the part of her that had felt uncomfortable at the mere thought of having to move on.
Sam turned his gaze to her notepads which she had haphazardly moved to the corner of the table. Lizzy had dug them out on the request of Chase, who had learned through her texts that she had a fondness for notebooks. He absolutely did not believe her when she said she owned up to twenty and demanded photographic evidence as proof.
"Oh, what's this," Sam picked one up, looking at the bold-print title. "Boutique Ala Moi?"
"Yeah..." Lizzy chuckled. "Don't judge. I came up with that title when I was a teen. Even then, I was dabbling with this idea of opening up a boutique my own."
She had already told Chase as much after sending him a picture of her stash. When he noticed the title of the notepad, he had sent countless laughing-emoticons in response to her terrible naming skills.
"Ah, I notice you keep checking your phone," Sam commented. "I almost forgot you're just as much of an internet addict as I am. That, or you're expecting a call from someone?"
"You're not a bother, Sam. Relax," Lizzy said as she re-filled his cup. "It's just a friend spamming me with texts."
Sam stayed for a short while of idle chitchat longer before he got up to leave. It was in that moment of silence at the doorstep when he spoke up.
"Lizzy?" he called her name, appearing to hover in uncertainty where he stood.
"Yes, Sam?"
"Never mind." He changed his mind, shaking his head. He smiled at her and was about to excuse himself when she reached for his shoulder.
"Sam, spit it out," she said, fixing her eyes on his with a look of concern. "I'm sure you didn't come here just for a cup of tea or to complain about your roommate's poor music taste."
He snickered, his smile reminding her too much of David's. "True, you're right. I guess I was just curious about you. It's been a while and I've been meaning to see how you were doing."
She recalled that he said something similar just earlier. Lizzy looked at him carefully. "Is there something else you'd like to talk about, Sam?" she found herself asking.
She recognized the look in his eye. Something about it reminded her of the time after the funeral, when he had worn the same expression on his face, as though he wanted to speak but was stopping himself. She hoped he hadn't been bottling up his grief, knowing full well how destructive that could be. In hindsight, he had handled everything so well, so responsibly.
"It's lame, Lizzy, are you sure you want to hear it?" he said, digging his hands in his pockets as he took a step back. "I was just going to say that it's good to see you like this again. Happy. Whole. You didn't look like this the last time I saw you. I think it's a good thing. You deserve it."
His words had touched her heart, and even after he left, Lizzy felt her eyes moisten as she pondered its meaning. Did she seem different? Happier?
Lizzy recalled the difference between coming back from work then and now. She thought about the time she threw herself on her bed and stared at the ceiling. At the time, it bothered her immensely that the future she had always thought about was reduced to a vague concept in her mind. What good was planning ahead anyway when there was no guarantee that life would follow suit? If there was one thing she had learned, it was that life was fragile and riddled with uncertainties. But somewhere along the line, she had regained the willpower to do her best regardless. Despite what fate had in store.
Later, when she checked her phone she saw a message. She clicked in to see a picture of a top-hat.
How does this look? Too classic?
She laughed and closed her head in her arms, leaning on the kitchen table. Her cheeks hurt with how wide she was grinning.
I think you'd find a way of making even that look dodgy.
His reply was immediate. Ouch. Harsh! The quest for the perfect hat continues... Will keep you updated.
She wasn't sure when exactly it had happened, but she and Chase had begun to communicate almost daily. If it wasn't a random comment on the weather, it was a question about her opinion of a cat or bird he had just photographed. She found herself looking forward to these tiny interruptions during her day more and more. He seemed to have no reservations, entirely open, and warm and full of conversation topics that would have her pausing to gather her thoughts.
When Lizzy truly thought about it she realized that she did indeed feel happier. Better, even.
And most of all?
Inspired.
