Maelie Brindamour

With a tch, Dani could only agree. “Downright unnatural. Nothing was made to live all cramped up like that. Easy to forget, I guess…” Unless you’ve ever lived in some of the places he had, growing up. Four walls and a roof didn’t mean much when the roof leaked, and the walls were so thin you could feel the neighbour’s draft. At least he’d had family. Piles of it. But some pampered Pekingese, stuck in a salon? That was just - it seemed so damn lonely. Dani had known he had to get his boys as a pair, no question about that. They were littermates, matter of fact; he’d probably have taken up a few more, if the rest hadn’t already been earmarked for other buyers. Far be it from him to take brothers from each other. 

He cocked his head at the notebook, added in an ah as Maelie explained. “Lucky couples, with you on the job.” Weddings. Lotta and him, they’d had plans for one of those. Plenty of plans. She’d wanted myrtle, asters, lilacs, chrysanthemums; couldn’t decide which. Each of them meant something, she said.

Means we’re gettin’ married, he’d beamed, brushing those dark curls from her shoulder, kissing her summer-freckled skin. Means I’ll get you all the flowers you want.

Dani jumped the rails on that train of thought, swerving with Mae’s remark. “That the word on the street, huh? Well, these knuckleheads -” he waved at the dogs, the pair of them still rumbling contentedly through the pats and pets. “They’re real suckers for a strawberry. Suppose we might have to make a detour. You mind company?”

Mae laughed a bit at his words, but it wasn’t so much a cheery laugh - it was more bitter than that. Bitterness certainly wasn’t something that Maelie exuded very often, but being cooped up was certainly something she was familiar with. “I completely agree.” She admitted. Growing up, she would get in trouble for going outside when she wasn’t supposed to, playing piano when she wasn’t supposed to, reading when she wasn’t supposed to... everything had a specific time and a specific place, and if she wasn’t going to follow that order, it seemed everything was simply made to get her in trouble.

The blonde smiled more genuinely, however, as Dani mentioned the couples. “You are too kind - I only hope they feel that way. Word of mouth is so important.” It was how she’d gotten started in the first place, at least in event planning.

“It is. I really hope it’s true, I have been longing for a good strawberry since the garden started to bloom this year. It’s a shame I don’t have any room for fruit plants.” She admitted. As it was, her garden wasn’t even on her property - she couldn’t just start growing fruits and vegetables in someone else’s yard.

“Of course I don’t mind company. You’re always welcome.” The blonde looked around them for a moment, before realizing they were heading in the wrong direction. “I think the market is actually this direction... unless I’m completely turned around.”

@maeflowcrs Of all the things he could be doing, they have him, chief of police, investigating a flower shop for supposed shady dealings. His constant state of being was somewhere between curmudgeonly and jaded, but this excursion has  managed to sour him even further.  He barely fits through the door of the establishment, for one, and the overwhelming burst of color and smell leaves him a touch lightheaded. Nevertheless, he dutifully proceeds through the rows of bright bouquets and other knick-knacks with a cold grimace. That is, until he spots the owner.  She stands backlit by beams of radiant sunlight and framed by her flowers as she helps another patron, grinning so infectiously that even the scourge of Paris must pause, and take notice. Her demeanor mimics that of his ex fiancé and he wonders for a moment if this is some cruel, heavenly joke. Surely God is laughing in this flower shop. He stops there, sure that by now she has taken notice of his domineering presence. But, for once, he is quite at a loss for words. She can’t possibly be up to anything illegal… And if she is, well, he has half a mind to forget the whole thing. 

Maelie wasn’t expecting this day to be nearly as busy as it was. It wasn’t that she truly had to rush, but usually on her “busy” days she paid a clerk at the desk to take the money and take requests, and today she was doing it all herself. So, after flitting around to get a bouquet made for a regular, she handed it off to him.

He’d had an argument with his wife, and needed help to make it right. It was something she was used to, but she knew that if he did the same thing every time, with the same flowers, chocolate, and wine, she would realize the ritual in it and dismiss him. So, instead, she offered some advice that was new - to him, at least.

“First, ask one of her friends to ask her to a nice dinner, and arrange that when she gets there, it’s really you waiting at the table, with her favourite meal ready at her seat. You have to apologize, of course, and you must explain why you are sorry. Or she won’t buy it.” She explained, her eyes moving to the door when she heard the familiar bell. She was surprised by who she saw, but didn’t let it convey on her face. 

“You will do well, I’m sure of it.” Maelie told the man with a reassuring smile and a nod, and with a “thank you,” he left the shop with a beautiful bouquet in his arms. 

Once her customer had fled, she turned towards the chief of police and gave him a smile. “How may I help you today, Monsieur?”

FLASHBACK: autumn, 1911. Evening/night.

Closed for @maeflowcrs

  To say that the arrival of one Maelie Brindamour into Vivienne’s home as a long-term guest had been an adjustment would be something of an understatement, really. Vivienne was used to some of her more eccentric friends appearing on her doorstep every once in a while, of course she was. Often, they would appear with a drained champagne glass in hand, or propping up her husband on their shoulders after a wild night out.   But what Maelie’s arrival may have lacked in alcohol, it made up for in drama. Though she’d been a resident under Vivienne and Antoine’s roof for a few weeks now, the couple was still somehat in the dark about why she had come knocking in the first place.

Vivienne had tried not to dwell on it too much. She’d been a bit preoccupied with wondering how everyone would adjust with a new lodger around after all. But she couldn’t deny that it worried her a little, the idea of someone like Maelie flitting away from her home all of a sudden. They’d seemed happy, the Brindamours. As happy as anyone ever showed themselves to be In Vivienne’s circles.

What could possibly have changed?

She was broken out of this query by the sound of a key turning in the lock.

“Oh hello, love,” Vivienne said lightly, turning to face the young woman crossing through her doorway.  “…How was the shift? Any drama to speak of tonight? Or…fun, even?”

The last thing that Maelie wanted to do was be an inconvenience. However, after arriving in Paris, she quickly realized that she would need a place to stay. The only person she thought she could maybe go to was Vivienne. They knew each other well enough, but not so much that Vivienne would contact her mother and send her back home right away. And, as it was, Maelie was determined to only bother Vivienne for as long as she absolutely had to.

However, as long as she had to was getting longer, as the cost of rent was higher than she expected. She’d gotten herself a job within a week, but unfortunately getting out of Vivienne’s hair was still taking longer than she’d hoped.

After a couple of weeks of working as a waitress, she had to admit, the idea of going back to her parents was tempting. But if she did that, she would end up in the exact situation she’d left, and she couldn’t make herself do it. No matter how horrible this was, she had to keep telling herself that it would work out eventually. It had to.

As she approached the house, she slid her hands down the sides of her head, trying to make the flyaways seem like obvious. It’d been a long shift for sure, and it was easy to tell by looking at her. But with that long night came a decent amount of tips, so she couldn’t complain too much.

She stuck her key in the lock and turned it, opening the door as quietly as she could. It wasn’t too late, but if anyone was asleep she didn’t want to wake them.

maeflowcrs‌:

Maelie stood up and looked up at the woman, amazed that they were even running into each other. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been that sincere with someone - the last time she didn’t hold anything back. And yet, afterwards, she realized she never even got the woman’s name to try and find her again. “Oh, of course. Half of France paints, nowadays. Although, not professionally.” She joked, not fully realizing how successful the other woman had actually become. 

“Oh– oh! Alright.” The blonde said, Mona already halfway towards her supplies on the ground again. She stood right where she was, watching her with curious eyes. She had never met anyone else like her, truly. She had a sort of energy about her that was so unique, it was the most intriguing quality. Even just the way she carried herself was different. 

As the artist came back and started explaining that she didn’t have her paint, realization dawned on Maelie’s face. “I can come for a bit, I do have to go back to the shop before long… but we can certainly finish another day?” She suggested. She didn’t want to waste this opportunity to get to know her a bit more, but she couldn’t just abandon her business for the rest of the day either. “Maelie. It’s a pleasure to meet you… again.” She told her, shaking her hand firmly. 

“Not professionally, indeed. Half of them won’t get anywhere with the craft,” she considered herself lucky in that regard. A survivor of natural selection in the world of art, often times more cut-throat than the canvases would show. The brutality affects you, Mona’s changed since that night, for better or worse.

Now she couldn’t say she wasn’t disappointed. She had planned to drop everything now to just paint her, to finally draw her not just from memory, of course failing to take into account that the woman may have had a schedule, people to meet, a job to get to. “I’m sure you can call in sick for a day. Then again, I wouldn’t want to keep you away.” She was rambling now, speaking anything and everything that came to her mind. In the end, Mons took it as a compromise. “Fine, but only if you promise to come back. Then I’ll leave you to return to… whichever shop do you work in, anyway?”

At the mention of her name, Mona smiled. “Huh, you looked more like an Anke.” It was the name she had given to her sketches of the girl. It was a diminutive, sweet and pure just like the blonde, but Mona would die before letting her know that for years, she sketched her when she was bored and even named her. It’s the reason she wanted to slap herself silly right then and there, having spoken without thinking. “Ah, anyway, Maelie,” she attempted to change the subject, “shall we go?”

“More than half, I’m sure. But I doubt half of that group thinks they’re good enough to even try.” Maelie pointed out casually, although she knew that was rather tragic. Too many people doubted themselves in terms of their art - lost were the days that people created just for the act of creating. Now they needed an end result that served a purpose, and if it did not do so, most didn’t bother. 

The blonde could see the disappointment in the artist’s eyes, and she bit the inside of her lip gently, not wanting to disappoint. “I own the shop, so calling in sick isn’t really possible... but I could probably do my work in the evening. How long do you think it would take?” She asked curiously. “I usually wouldn’t mind, but I have an event coming up rather soon, so I need to make arrangements.” She tried to explain, hoping she would understand. “Oh, I promise, yes. I work in Tout en Fleur, the flower shop. But I plan events as well.”

As Mona told her that she seemed like an Anke, Maelie let out a small laugh. “You can call me Anke, if you prefer it.” She told her with a bit of a shrug, quite amused by the idea. She supposed it made sense, that a Dutch woman would give her a Dutch name, with no other sources to go on. “Yes, of course. That sounds great.” 

The day had been spent running about town, feet moving faster than his brain as he crossed a number of items off of his errand list. A tight deadline had been the cause of the headache that began at the bridge of his nose and moved around his head like a pair of invisible spectacles. Nobody at Le Figaro seemed to be on the same page, literally and figuratively, and once again, much that had to be done before the weekend weighed heavily on his shoulders. 

This was how he found himself swiftly moving through his favorite shortcut through the park, not paying a single mind to how gorgeous the day was. The sunshine had become just another factor of his headache. 

Just as he was thinking about word counts and proper typefaces for a new column, his attention was taken. “Miss Brindamour!” he exclaimed upon recognizing her face after he’d turned on his heel. “Maelie Brindamour— Miss Mae.” He was quick to correct himself, as once upon a time she had asked him not to be so formal. 

The mention of the caterpillar made his shoulders tense and his hands quickly turned to fists. He hated bugs, and the thought of one in his hair was enough to place a chill in his spine, but it wasn’t in his interest to act like a fool because of it. “Please,” he said, grimacing. “I’d no idea I was carrying a stowaway.” 

Maelie smiled when the writer recognized her, but her smile grew even more when he corrected himself. She appreciated that he was trying to remember, and it wasn’t that she hated being called by her last name, it just felt much more formal than what was necessary. To her, Madame Brindamour was her mother - and even Miss Brindamour felt strange. She was much happier being called by her first name, at least in every day life. 

As his face changed at the mention of the insect, the blonde giggled slightly, and moved forward to pluck the green creature out of his hair. It stuck out like a sore thumb on his head, it was no wonder she’d spotted it. 

“I’m sure he’ll be much happier on a tree than on your head, anyway.” She pointed out, quickly moving off to the side to set it onto a tree, just as she said. Turning back towards him, she brushed off her hands and shrugged a bit. “Most insects don’t mean us any harm anyway, especially not little caterpillars... he probably just fell while you were walking underneath.”

[closed starter for @maeflowcrs ]

“You come highly recommended by one of my board members,” Drake mentions as he leans back in his desk chair, eyeing the pretty young woman who he had invited  into his office after he’d offered her a seat.

“A Monsieur Lennox? Said you’d planned a lovely coming out party for his daughter several months ago and handed me your contact information so I could see if your were suitable for what I have in mind.”

He slid some papers over on his desk and referenced the napkin where her information had been written by his colleague. If he had to be honest, he was pleasantly surprised that the woman wasn’t the matronly type that he’d imagined. This whole affair of planning his birthday soiree would be so much more agreeable with someone pleasing to look at.

“Have you been doing this long?”

“I’m very glad to hear that, Monsieur.” Maelie told him with a smile, trying her best not to already start asking questions about the event he wanted. Upon setting up the appointment with him, she’d checked for his name in the papers - if he was engaged, it wasn’t announced there. So, if it wasn’t a wedding, what kind of event was it? She was more than intrigued.

She listened to him speaking and her eyes fell to the papers and the napkin with her contact information written on it. Mr. Lennox had been a wonderful customer - his wife was a bit pushy in terms of decor, but that was to be expected with a coming out party. She grew up in that life, she certainly knew how to handle the mothers.

“I have been planning events for four years now, but I opened Tout en Fleur in 1916.” 

It had been in the midst of the war. As morbid as it seemed, people were losing their properties, and they needed flowers for funerals, mostly. She got her business up and running during wartime, and managed to keep it going afterwards, thanks to a few friends spreading her name around Paris. 

“What is it you have in mind? If I may ask.”

That Maelie really did have a sweet heart, didn’t she? Gentle as a lamb. Must make handling the bouquets easier. Dani kept his kid gloves on with those things, carried them as delicately as he could, like champagne flutes, like bone china. He watched her trail away to release their little friend, smirking, softly, at the sight. Off into the wilds of Paris. Funny, wasn’t it - how human kindness worked, when you used it. Could make a pal out of anything.

Like wolves. Or whatever big lug of an animal Abe and Benny here had grown from, once upon a time. They warbled and wagged as Mae offered a pet, shoving at each other to hog her attention. “Hey,” Dani snapped his fingers at them, calmed things down a little. No more budging. “Mind your manners, ah?” All settled, he gave her a nod. “That’s the plan. They need a little fresh air, now and then. Me too.” As fresh as it got in Paris, anyway. New York was the same. Big cities, they had a smell. Especially on a hot day, oy. He’d worn one of his linen suits, seeing the sun glare through the curtains that morning. Right call. “And yourself? Morning stroll, hittin’ up the market?”  

Maelie often found that men were surprised, if they were to shake her hand. She supposed that they viewed her as the soft girl with the flowers, who planned parties and could never be seen without a smile. However, her hands told a different story: covered in scars and calluses, it was clear that she’d been working with her hands for years now. It was work, growing the flowers - and although she didn’t grow all of them herself, many were planted, tended, and cut by her own hands. Gardening gloves really were her best friends, many days.

The blonde let out what could only be described as a giggle, when the dogs fought for her attention. “I have two hands, my sweets.” She told them, happily using both her hands to give both dogs some attention. She paused as Dani snapped at them, but started petting them again absentmindedly once they were settled in their places. “Everyone does, I think. I pity the poor animals people keep locked up inside.” She admitted. As he asked her plans, however, she just shrugged, tugging a notebook out of a bag she had hanging from her shoulder. “Trying to come up with ideas. Mostly for weddings.” She had other events coming up that were mostly planned already, thank god, but making each wedding distinct certainly was a task. “I might check the market before I head home, though - I have heard the strawberries there are to die for.”

Friends were a relief. Mae was a relief. Zahra let herself relax- after all, this was not a business call, and she went to greet the woman in the doorway of the shop. “You’re a saint,” She kissed her friend’s cheek, motioning for her to take a seat in one of the chairs that were usually reserved for the gaggles of women who came in to shop and order and try things on whilst gossiping about Madame So-and-So and did you see that dress she wore last weekend at the Gala? Not that Zahra actually believed a word that they shared among themselves. No, she preferred to form her own opinions on people. 

She rushed into the back, grabbing two glasses and some clean scraps that really couldn’t be salvaged as anything but a napkin or a rag before returning to the front of the shop. “Angelina must have known that I wouldn’t leave my sewing machine unless someone brought food and dragged me out from behind it.

Maelie grinned as her friend seemed to be happy about her surprise. She knew that when she got stressed, she often didn’t want distractions, and would occasionally snap at the idea of her schedule being altered - so she was glad that Zahra didn’t seem to be the same way. “I’m not sure about that. Do saints drink wine?” She asked with a playful tilt of her head, and obediently sat down in the seat her friend motioned to. “Are you working on anything exciting?” Costumes were always so much fun to look at, even if it was a completely different world from her own. 

The blonde watched as the seamstress scurried around the shop, and started to unload her basket. Wine, crackers, cheese, grapes, and a few other snacks for them to enjoy. “Angelina and I both knew. You have a terrible habit of forgetting dinner, you know.”

There’d been a time when Dani laughed at the notion that people started to look like their dogs, or dogs like their people. (There’d been a time when Dani laughed more, in general.) But, then he’d picked up a few of his own. Ordered, more properly; all the way from Harlem, and the best breeder he could turn up in New York state. One would do, he’d figured. Then, no - two. He did have plenty of business to see to, and not all of it was so pet-friendly. They should have some company. That had been six years ago. Turns out the company thing wasn’t so much a concern; Abe and Benny hardly left his side. He didn’t have the heart to leave them anyplace; besides, he’d trained them up well. And, sure enough, in temperament as in build, Daniel and his dogs were about as uncannily alike as could be. Got antsy without a little exercise. Needed to feel the street, now and then. They were doing just that, the pitbulls padding along at Dani’s sides, unleashed, when a young lady - when the flower girl, a familiar face - swept up to him, looking very earnest. “Oh, please, help yourself,” he chuckled, leaning down so she could even reach in the first place. The dogs sat, unperturbed, her scent familiar. “I appreciate it, mam’selle. Sure the bug does, too.” 

Maelie gave the man a big smile when he stopped and let her get the caterpillar out of his hair. “Thank you.” She said softly, gently plucking the creature from his head. Placing it in the palm of her other hand, she scurried to a tree and let it move its way onto the trunk. She was sure it would be much happier there than it would have been on Monsieur Delione’s head. This way, it would likely become a butterfly - and she wanted it to be able to reach that potential.

Returning to the man, she laughed a bit, shrugging. “I’m not sure about that, but I’m glad it didn’t get knocked on the ground and squished.” She admitted. Even if it was just a caterpillar, she didn’t think that people really had a right to decide if it lived or not. Who were they to play God? “What are you up to? Just walking the dogs?” It wasn’t a question she would ask a complete stranger, but she and Dani had known each other for a while, even if it was just a business relationship.

Absentmindedly, the blonde reached down and began scratching one of the dogs’ heads, her face turning into a bit of a pout as she cooed at them for a moment. She didn’t have any pets of her own, although she wouldn’t mind having any, but it meant that she loved playing with animals when they came into the shop with their owners; and she was very happy to be familiar with Dani’s dogs.

After an hour or two of thinking, and scribbling down some ideas in a notebook, Maelie stood from the bench and brushed herself off, before heading towards an exit. She paused just when someone passed her, not because they spoke, but because she’d caught a spot of green on their head. 

“Excuse me!” She called after them, quickly taking a few steps to catch up with them. “It seems you have a caterpillar on your head. May I?”