Owning a business wasn't easy. Owning a struggling small business in the heart of Oxford was even harder. Loving what she did was what kept her going but it wouldn't be enough to keep the doors open forever. Lee new that.
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The goods she sold were small and rustic. Hours were spent hand painting novelty pots or weaving together wreaths. But plants, flowers and seeds were her best sellers.
Everyone that has worked in a shop has a wild anecdote. Whether it be an insane customer or an embarrassing incident. Maybe they have many a tale of the levels of stupidity they experience in customer service. Or perhaps a little story about how one of The Beatles wandered into their shop on a foggy Wednesday afternoon in the 70's. Okay maybe that was overly specific but that was what was happening. Here and now.
He was taller than she had imagined him to be. He couldn't have been six foot, 5'11 if he was standing up straight, but she thought he was shorter for some reason. Lee had seen him on the telly and he was not much taller than the other three. Except Ringo. Maybe it was his presence, the gait he had when entering her shop, that made it seem so. She could put it down to posture. Why was she so focused on his height anyway? That was hardly the most noticeable thing about him. His burnt orange coat stood out, for instance.
Lee was good at looking busy while she watched people lurk around her shop. She liked to see their reactions to her work and wonder how they ended up in the small business, buying a bouquet wrapped in brown paper or a terracotta plant pot.
George was good at pretending he didn't know he was being watched. He had been in the spotlight for the good part of a decade. He was recognised often but some people don't speak, they just stare from a distance. John used to insist on staring back, but he could never commit to the bit like John. Sometimes he had the urge to talk to them and end the awkward feeling he got. What would he even say though? 'Yes, it's me, you're not dreaming.' And flick his hair? He wasn't humorously charming like Paul, he'd never pull it off. Ringo tended to smile or nod at the starers, the most down to earth option, but George found that he couldn't not look sarcastic when he smiled at strangers. So he just pretended he didn't see them and went about his business like normal.
She thought that he hadn't seen her behind the counter at first. The shop keeper was stood by a tall wall of drawers, a few feet away from the door. As she collected her tools and resources, he'd walked in and maybe never noticed a person in his peripheral vision. It gave Lee longer to be nosey though and she had honed her sneaky craft to a point of being undetectable. Her hands had made a thousand bouquets and could work without her eye's supervision. So Lee needed only to flick her eyes down at the right time and she was safe from detection. Her current work consisted of white chrysanthemums and light green Carnation blooms, with dramatic Phoenix Palm leaves.
George's face didn't give a lot away at the best of times so when he noticed the girl glancing at him, he didn't let on.
As this was her shop and he was the customer, Lee decided she would ask if he need any help. She'd treat him like any one else who wandered in here. As Lee moved from behind the counter, abandoning the chrysanthemums on the workspace, she approached the man. His back was to her now so she'd have to get his attention.
