It's been six years since Terence's death, the past was safely locked in a box but nothing can be kept a secret forever and this tragedy hides so much more.
Unaware of her real identity, Harlie is thrown into a world where she is forced to face her...
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To lose someone is to lose a part of yourself.
Then you don't know who you are anymore, and everything that you used to do doesn't make you feel the same. You feel like walking on a razor blade, you either fall or walk this straight painful line. When Terence died Harlie lost a part of herself.
There was a certain fascination that Harlie found in having everything under control. And there was a certain fascination that wrapped around Harlie's figure like a ghostly cape. She felt at peace and safe, she felt like she could fix the past this way, but not everything that looks pretty actually is.
"These flowers should go on the stage near the steps, these on the tables." Echoed through the grand room overlooking the city of Toronto.
Rolls of different fabrics in black, gold and crimson laid on a long table. The satin fabrics shining in between the cotton ones reflected the lavish crystals of the multiple chandeliers, which created a game of dashing gleams on the polished marble.
Harlie Wilkinson was tightly holding the black tablet with one hand, a digital white pencil on the other while walking through the round tables ready to be set up the next day. On the bright screen a floor plan of the saloon showed up. It was scribbled and noted, with some drawings made by a quick and expert hand. The final touches were added on the check-list for the following day: flowers. Harlie loved flowers and they were their signature, what their growing company was recognized for.
"These flowers were supposed to last till tomorrow and they are dying." She muttered to herself. "I have to remember to email the florist to bring a new batch of Queen Anne's Lace." Harlie was passionate about flowers and knew almost every kind by heart thanks to her mother.
"I've made a last-minute change on the seating chart: Mr Smith is one of Mr Evans' closest partners, so I've moved him and his wife to table number 3 instead of these two." Natalie was right beside Harlie, with her beautiful blonde hair in a loose bun and a tablet of her own in one hand, while Brianna, the only short haired of the three, was taking pictures of the dying flowers to send to the florist.
"Mh, Harlie the flowers are okay." She said looking at the now glowing and white Queen Anne's Lace.
"What?" Harlie rushed by her side. "I swear they were dying. Well no need to call the florist then, but no glitters... who even brought glitters? They're all over them." Sparkling gold glitters covered the flowers and the table, but the trail continued to the marble floor. They were even on Harlie's and Brianna's hands from touching the tiny white petals.
"We better clean this up tomorrow." Noted Brianna, not so happy about the unexpected finding and quickly wiping her hands on her pants. Nonetheless it was a bad idea because she was wearing well fitted grey dress pants and the gold glitters were very noticeable. She grumbled irritated.
The shoes of the three young women echoed on the polished marble, while the jazz quartet was closing their last rehearsal for the following evening. Despite their young age, Harlie, Brianna and Natalie co-founded an event planning company while in their second year of university and since then they've gained a quite vast reputation.
