“For this position, you’d be doing a little bit of everything. We need someone who will coordinate deliveries, handle orders, potentially yell at suppliers when the orders come in wrong.” Della led the way into a narrow hallway off of which were a small bathroom, an equally sparse kitchen, and an office in the midst of what looked like a purge. “We use QuickBooks. Willing to train, of course.”

Gloria wasn’t one hundred percent sure what QuickBooks was. And she was pretty sure the only thing she was qualified for was sweeping the floors here.

“Let’s grab some coffee,” Della decided, leading the way back to the kitchen. She poured from the pot into floral mugs and gestured at the rickety table in the corner.

Gloria hesitated and then grabbed two sugars. She was more of a tea person, but she could manage a coffee if it made a better first impression. She took the seat opposite Della. The woman measured her with cool green eyes. Gloria sipped. Della nodded as if she’d decided.

“So the job is yours if you want it.”

Gloria blinked. “But you haven’t even asked me any questions.”

“Look, I don’t like the whole ‘show me your resume’ song and dance. None of our employees came from a flower background. I hire people, not experience.”

Score one for Gloria.

“I’ve never had a job, and I don’t know what QuickBooks is,” Gloria said. It was suddenly imperative that she be completely honest.

“Let me tell you a story, Gloria. I was married before. Twenty-two. An idiot. Married the first guy who made eyes at me. That guy turned out to be an ass. Took me two years to get out with a black eye, a broken arm, and a baby on my hip. I drove all night, heading east, and I landed in this Podunk town in Indiana. I dug out change from the floormats of my third-hand car just to get a cup of coffee at a diner.”

Della paused, staring down at her mug fondly.

“Mabel, the blue-haired, pack-a-day smoking owner, took one look at me and gave me a job on the spot and a room to rent. She changed my life. And I promised myself that someday I’d be in the same position to do something for someone.”

Gloria looked down at the worn table top. Shame flushed her cheeks. “I don’t want charity,” she said quietly.

“Good. You shouldn’t.” She nodded briskly. “This is a chance to learn, to work really damn hard, to earn your way. So if you’re not up for that, then no hard feelings. But if you do say yes, you’ll start tomorrow, and I promise you we’ll teach you everything you need to know and someday you’ll be in the position to give someone else a chance.”

Gloria pursed her lips, feeling emotion tighten her throat.