Little Shop in London Town

Chapter 1

"Yes Mom, I got your email," I sight as I dip my paint brush into the glop of mog pod on the paper plate in front of me. My cellphone is balanced on my shoulder pressed against my cheek.

"Then why didn't you reply?" she asks indignantly as I swipe my brush along the clothes pin, covering it with the sticky substance.

"Because I had to come to work! I had planned on replying as soon as I got home today," I place my brush down before picking up the strip of paper I had previously cut and carefully place it on the adhesive covered clothes pin.

"So, you don't have time to answer my email, but you have time to answer my call while you are at your shop?" she sounds really offended but I know it will blow over soon.

"Well forgive me for thinking that you calling me was for an emergency considering the time difference. Isn't it the middle of the night back home?" I ask pointing out her flawed logic. My Mom, back in New York City, scoffs but doesn't have a come back. I smirk and glance out the window to the wet, busy London street. People hurry past with their hoods up and umbrellas open. The cars driving past splash water up onto those unfortunate enough to be near the sidewalk's edge.

"Its only 4 in the morning. Just an hour before I normally get up," Mom defends herself, "Anyways, how is business going?" My attention was drawn from the window at the sound of her voice.

"A little slower than usual this past week, but there are a lot of people who've signed up for my classes this Saturday," I reply. I own my own craft boutique where I teach workshops on the weekends. It's basically a store version of Pinterest. Crafting has always been a form of therapy for me, so it made sense to open up a craft store once I graduated from Harvard a year ago with a business management degree. Opening up shop in London had come from the year I spent studying abroad at Oxford and falling in love with England. I couldn't be more content with my life right now, but I think my parents would have been happier if I had stayed closer to New York. My Dad is a professor at Juilliard teaching music theory and music history, while my Mom is a Blue Blood socialite. They are a very unlikely match and most would think that their marriage would have fallen apart by now, yet they are still deeply in love.

"That's a good sign!" Mom says excitedly.

"That's what I'm hoping," I say while mentally crossing my fingers. It's not that business is bad, but I would like just a little bit more of it. I'm trying to move into a slightly bigger flat so that my kitchen and my bed are not five feet away from each other. Oh and a living room would be nice too. I have enough money right now to get a larger flat, but I'd like to make sure I can afford it for the long term without having to dip into my emergency funds. Granted my parents would be more than happy to help me out if I ever needed it but I like being independent.

"How is your fundraiser going?" I ask to keep the conversation going while I wait for customers and work on the sample for the workshop this weekend. It's a simple project consisting of decorating clothes pins with scrapbook paper, bows and buttons. I prefer the simplistic version without the bows and buttons, but I want people to see that there are other options. The goal is to have the decorated pins holding pictures strung across a piece of twine. This for some reason is one of my favorite projects to do.

"If Francis wasn't trying to take command like always it would be going smoothly, but she is and making a mess of it too," my Mom complains and I can only imagine the disgusted look she has on her face while she paces in front of the great big bay window looking into the back yard. One of Mom's fellow Blue Bloods, Francis, is on the same fundraising committee and they have never gotten along despite their roles as co- presidents of the committee.