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“Keep yourself in the dark for now. I’ll handle the rest.” Jade’s words echo in Robin’s mind.
She takes a deep breath, lost in thought as she absentmindedly watches tall trees and mountain ranges whizzing by through the spacious train window, fields of green seeming to stretch on for miles.
It’s not Robin’s usual scene, for sure. Typically, her eyes are obscured by towering high rise buildings, bustling streets where it’s almost impossible to not bump into someone, heavy traffic with hot headed drivers, and the media trying to follow her wherever she tries to go.
She hasn’t known silence in a while, especially not after Sunday’s arrest. She’d had to decline at least fifteen interviews coming from a variety of journalists, talk show hosts, and podcasts in only the first week; she couldn’t even get to her sets without some paparazzi trying to block her way and get even just one word from her.
Robin was always being watched, now more than ever. The public eye is always circling her like sharks, waiting for her to take one wrong step and fall into the water.
She’s never once taken a step outside without having to constantly look over her shoulder.
It was driving her insane.
The train whistle rings loudly throughout the carriages, signaling that they are nearing the station, and derailing Robin’s thoughts.
She takes a deep breath and exhales sharply. Darkness shrouds the train for a brief moment as they pass through a tunnel, though soon enough, Robin spots the stop in the distance.
She stands, taking her luggage from the overhead rack and another from under the seat.
The train comes to a stop with a pneumatic hiss, followed by one brief whistle.
She doesn’t struggle too much with getting out. The train was mostly empty, with only about ten other passengers besides her
As she steps outside, a familiar figure is waiting for her.
“Mr. Gallagher.”
“Miss Robin, it’s good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you too.”
“How long has it been?” he says with a boisterous laugh, “Feels like just yesterday when you and your brother were pulling your old man’s hair out.”
Robin laughs along with him, feeling lighter than she ever has in the last couple of years in the big city.
“I believe it’s been seven.. or maybe eight years?” she answers his question with uncertainty.
“That long, huh,” he chuckles. “Here, let me help you with that.”
He grunts as he carries her bags and luggage. “You sure do know how to pack,” he jokes.
“I can handle carrying some, you know?” she retorts.
“Nah, I’ll be fine,” he insists. “Come on, I’ll take you to your old man’s. The town has changed up a bit since you last left, so this can serve as a mini tour of some sort.”
“Thank you, Mr. Gallagher.”
“Oh, please,” he laughs heartily, “just call me Gallagher, for old time’s sake.”
The walls of her childhood home feel both familiar and unfamiliar at the very same time.
She remembers running around its halls while her brother chased her around, their laughter echoing throughout the mansion as they played.
She remembers the house never truly being quiet, with either her singing or humming filling the silence, or her father’s gramophone playing faint classical music in his office.
At the same time, she remembers the halls being longer, the wooden floor stretching on for longer, and the walls being much, much taller.
Now only her footsteps and steady breathing fill the quiet.
“Well, if you don’t need anything else, this old man’s got a bar to run,” Gallagher’s voice cuts through the silence as he sets down her bags and luggage by the door.
“I should be fine, Mr. Gallagher,” she reassures, “Thank you.”
“Just Gallagher,” he corrects with a smile, “And you’re welcome.”
She gives him a small wave as he disappears outside, the door closing behind him with a soft click.
And then there was one.
She takes careful steps up the stairs, running her hand through the mahogany railing. It surprises her how little specks of dust are in her fingers as she reaches the top. She really ought to thank Gallagher for keeping a good eye on the mansion.
Each squeak of the wooden panels are hauntingly loud under the weight of her feet as she retraces her steps back to her old room.
The door that once used to tower over her, now only being a few inches taller. She takes the doorknob and twists, a long creak following as she pushes it open.
It’s almost the same as she’d left it, only a little more tidy. Her stuffed toys organized on top of a low bookshelf instead of being scattered all over the floor from when she and her brother would pretend they were her audience.
Her brother…
She sighs.
She can’t do much but wish him well in her mind.
Sitting down on the edge of her mattress, she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.
So much has passed ever since she was last here, and though it was nice to finally be able to sit down in silence, a part of her still couldn’t rest easy.
She’d been so used to a life where eyes constantly followed her, so much so that even just breathing made her feel paranoid.
Her eyes gaze out the small window, into the warm beach below, and lets her mind go blank for once.
Flowers.
Robin’s first order of business the next day are flowers.
She wants to visit her father’s grave, to pay some respect. Something that she hasn’t been able to do at all ever since his burial, with no one even giving her a moment to breathe.
He’d died five years ago, and the media was all too happy to broadcast her grief to all the world. Her brother was really the only she could lean on, but even he has been taken away from her now.
That’s the price she has to pay, she supposes.
She more than deserves it, especially after everything she’s done in her life.
Stirring her cup of coffee, she recalls Gallagher’s tour from the day before. There should be a flower shop just a short walk away from the house.
Verdant Florals , she thinks the name is.
Gallagher had pointed out the store as they were passing by, and the town wasn’t too big, so she supposes she could simply wander around until she finds it if she ever gets lost.
She takes a sip of her coffee, scrunching up her face and adding another cube of sugar when she finds it a little too bitter for her taste.
It’s quiet. Peaceful. And that’s exactly why she feels restless.
For the majority of her life, she’s been stuck in an almost limbo-like cycle of watching her back, going to work, and barely eating or sleeping, and now that she has a moment to breathe, it all just feels… wrong.
Truly, it can’t be helped, not with her brother’s arrest still at the back of her mind despite Lady Jade promising to take care of everything.
A shower.
That’s what she needs.
A long, hot, steaming shower.
Her skin is practically red when she steps out of the shower and wraps herself up in a towel. The cold air immediately greets her as she exits the bathroom, making her shiver on her way to her closet.
Robin opts for a comfortable cable knit sweater, and some denim pants, her hair done up in a simple bun.
It was a simple get up, but Verdant Meadows is a small town, and before her arrival, Gallagher had repeatedly reassured her that everyone here is nice and respectful and that she’d have nothing to worry about.
She puts on some light makeup, and once satisfied, she quickly snatches her purse from her bedside table, and makes her way down the stairs.
As she heads to the door, she grabs an umbrella just in case, and slips on a pair of ankle boots as well before finally heading out.
It takes her a while to get there, at some point she’d even considered turning back and finding Gallagher instead for some help with the bar standing just in the middle of the town, but eventually, she does make it in one piece.
The shop was no short of charming—a small, one-story building with vintage architecture and fitting sage green walls. Its floor-to-ceiling windows are framed with white trims, complementing the structure beautifully.
Right out front are shelves lined with buckets of different kinds of elegant flowers, as well as some pre-made bouquets ready for sale.
Right above the door, the signage reads, ‘Verdant Florals’ in a calligraphic font.
Wind chimes clinked softly above her as she steps foot into the dainty flower shop, and with one breath, she’s met with the fragrant smell of flora, filling her with a sense of calm.
To her left is a birch counter, a small cash register sitting on top of it, but no sign of the florist Gallagher had mentioned.
Perhaps they were on a break? Or taking care of something momentarily?
Regardless, Robin decides to stay for a while and look around. Who knows? Maybe the florist will show up. The sign on the door did say it was open, and a little patience never hurt anyone.
She leaves her umbrella by the door, and her footsteps echo softly along the checkered green and white marble floor. She scans through the shelves lining the walls with rows upon rows of colorful flowers and greenery, both familiar and unfamiliar to Robin.
Robin pauses by a display of orchids by the front facing window, enamored by the way their petals unfurled in different shades of pink and white.
Gently, she brushes her finger against one of the blossoms, marveling at its delicacy.
She instantaneously snatches her hand back from it when she hears someone clearing their throat.
Looking up, Robin sees the most enchanting pair of eyes she’d set her own gaze upon.
The woman in front of her is just slightly shorter, with long hair the color of silver that fades into teal at the ends. She’s wearing a white blouse, khaki pants, and an apron over her clothes, some crumbs of dirt staining it.
She must be the florist!
“H..hi,” Robin awkwardly greets.
The woman reaches for a notepad that hangs from a black string around her neck, almost like a necklace. She then grabs a pen from one of the pockets of her apron and begins writing something down.
‘Hi, I'm the florist. How can I help you?’
Ah.
Robin nods in understanding. “I’m visiting my father in the cemetery and I wanted to get some flowers for him before I did,” she explains.
‘Did he have a favorite flower?’ is the next thing the florist writes.
Robin shakes her head. “Maybe he did, but I personally don’t know. He and I were quite… distant,” she admits. “But he raised me, so I want to thank him anyway.”
The woman bobs her head and begins to write once more.
‘White chrysanthemums and lilies are always a safe option.’
“Can I see them first?” Robin asks.
The florist gives her a nod before quietly leading Robin to where the flowers are displayed, a soft gasp leaving Robin as she looks at them in awe, gently running the back of her fingers against the delicate petals.
“They’re beautiful,” Robin finds herself saying.
This prompts a satisfied smile from the florist.
‘Thank you’ Robin reads on the note,
“You’re welcome,” she says simply, returning her smile. “I’ll take a bouquet of the chrysanthemums and lilies. Please feel free to add anything you see fit as well,” Robin tells her, trusting the woman’s taste.
Robin quietly observes as the florist immediately gets to work, grabbing a bundle each of the primary flowers Robin had requested, arranging them carefully. She uses some baby’s breath to fill the space, and some ferns and eucalyptus for good measure, for what Robin assumes is a pop of greenery.
Afterward, the woman makes her way to a workbench lined up against the wall, carefully laying out her flowers and greens on top, organizing her workspace.
“Do you mind if I watch?” Robin shyly asks.
The florist shakes her head, even moving to the side, to give Robin some space to watch.
Robin beams, all too eager to see the florist’s work. She’s always found it fascinating to see how all sorts of things are put together.
Her eyes curiously follow each of the florist’s movements—how she trims each flower’s leaves and removes all the bruised petals, how she meticulously arranges them, making sure to fill each space thoughtfully.
The dozens of band-aids that littered the florist’s hands didn’t go unnoticed, perhaps from handling particularly thorny flowers?
Only then does Robin register the burn scars that seemed to cover the majority of the florist’s hands. Although healed, they seem to spread down to her wrists, and possibly further under her sleeves. Robin couldn’t say for sure, however.
The florist doesn’t let her dwell on it, clearing her throat when she spots Robin eyeing her hand for a little too long. Robin can only give an apologetic look, refocusing on the flowers instead.
Before long, The florist is snipping off their stems, giving them a fresh cut and evening them all out. Once satisfied, she then ties it all down with some kind of string or yarn, though Robin herself wasn’t sure.
The florist then takes a sheet of dark gray wrapping paper, creasing and folding the sheet into a more elaborate design before wrapping the arrangement of flowers.
She finishes it all up with a velvet white ribbon, and finally presents it to Robin, holding it up to her.
“Oh, Xipe… it’s gorgeous,” Robin says in awe.
The woman gestures for Robin to take it, holding it into Robin’s space.
Robin is almost too afraid to actually take it, practically cradling the bouquet like a newborn baby, not wanting to accidentally crush or damage the delicate arrangement.
The florist grins at her, clearly amused, though satisfied that Robin seems happy.
“How much will everything be?” Robin then asks.
The woman grabs her notepad and begins to write.
‘Each customer’s first purchase is always free’
“I–no, please,” Robin scoffs in disbelief, “Don’t be ridiculous! I couldn’t possibly take this for free!”
The florist smile only grows. ‘It’s not like I can’t grow more’
Robin stares at her note for a long beat, unsure of what to do.
The florist had worked so meticulously on the bouquet, is she really just going to simply hand it over to Robin free of charge?
“Are you sure?” Robin presses.
The florist only nods.
Robin simply sighs. “Thank you”—her eyes narrowed down at the name tag sitting on the florist’s chest—“Firefly…” Robin reads.
A pretty name for a pretty girl, Robin finds herself thinking, though she quickly snaps herself out of it as the florist, or rather, Firefly, shows her another note.
‘You’re welcome’ Firefly had written, a neat smiley face scribbled right next to it.
“Well, Firefly,” Robin oddly can’t help herself from grinning as the name rolls out of her mouth, “I’ll be on my way now, though I’ll definitely be back,” she promises with a chuckle.
Firefly writes her one more note.
‘I’ll be looking forward to it.’