The Flower That Grew from Ashes novel Chapter 195

"Certification," Annelise echoed, trimming a stem without looking up.

"Exactly!" Sophia's excitement bubbled over. "Think about it. Our experiential workshops are insanely popular. Three sessions a week, totally booked, and people can't even get a spot a month in advance. We should stop squeezing classes into the back of the shop and just open a standalone floral studio!"

Annelise's hands paused.

"A real floral studio," Sophia gestured widely. "With a dedicated teaching space, a display area for portfolios, and enough room to host boutique floral salons. Anne, with your reputation and that guest designer title from the Paris Academy, it would be a guaranteed hit!"

Annelise put down her shears and looked at her.

"Have you run the numbers on the cost?"

"A little bit." Sophia stuck her tongue out sheepishly. "But Anne, isn't that little nest egg you've been saving for three years exactly for something like this?"

Annelise fell silent.

It was true; since her second year in business, she had funneled thirty percent of the profits into a separate account every month.

She had never touched that money.

She'd harbored a vague idea in the back of her mind, but no one had ever laid it out as directly and clearly as Sophia just had.

"A studio," she murmured softly, testing the words on her tongue.

"Exactly!" Emma chimed in. Having a background in banking, she was far more structured than Sophia. "Anne, I've already done some preliminary math. On the third floor right above our shop, next to Mr. Judd's architecture firm, there's a studio space that's been vacant for over half a year. It's spacious, gets great natural light, and the rent is a fraction of what we'd pay on the main commercial street."

Annelise looked up.

"You've already scoped out a place?"

"Just passing by," Emma said, a bit embarrassed. "I just thought the location was absolutely perfect. It's close to our shop, so students could pop down to buy flowers right after class."

Annelise walked behind the counter and poured herself a glass of water.

Holding the glass, she stared out the window at the brightening sky, lost in thought.

Three years ago, she couldn't even speak a full sentence in Norwegian. She had clutched a wad of cash from selling off her jewelry in Cresthaven, just trying to open a tiny flower shop in a foreign city.

Back then, she just wanted a corner of the world where she could survive and breathe.

She never imagined the day someone would say words like "studio," "certifications," or "salons" to her.

Let alone that the people saying them would be looking at her with such absolute trust and anticipation.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify