The Glasshouse
1120 Words
Le Jardin d'Hiver was breathtaking.
The enormous glass conservatory glowed beneath thousands of tiny fairy lights and paper lanterns suspended from its high, rounded ceiling.
A crystal chandelier hung at the center, scattering warm light across the elegant tables below.
Soft music floated through the air as guests mingled, laughed, and moved between the displays.
“Thomas, move that table a little to the left,” Anna instructed. “I want everything to look perfect.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
La Table du Poète's display was already attracting attention.
Madam Rosé's gold-dusted pastries sat on tiered marble stands beside neatly arranged classic paperbacks and delicate tea blends. Everything looked exactly as Anna had imagined.
“We've already sold out half the chouquettes!” Lizzy exclaimed, placing another golden box into a customer's hands.
Anna smiled.
Her chest swelled with pride as she smoothed her lilac dress.
Every late night, every early morning, every stressful moment had been worth it.
“Excuse me. Who's in charge here?”
Anna turned.
A woman stood before her in a black crystal lace gown and matching fascinator. Everything about her—from her posture to the expensive jewelry around her neck—suggested influence.
“I am. Good evening, ma'am. Is there a problem?”
“Quite the opposite.”
The woman's gaze travelled over the display.
“The pastry presentation is divine. Did you make these yourself?”
“Our pastries are crafted fresh every morning by our head baker, Madam Rosé,” Anna explained. “We pair them with our custom floral tea blends and literary collection.”
The woman's expression softened into an approving smile.
“Excellent.”
She reached into her clutch and pulled out a business card.
“My name is Genevieve Moreau. I'm the director of the Saint-Germain Cultural Society.”
Anna's eyes widened slightly.
“We organize several seasonal galas throughout the year,” Genevieve continued. “I've been searching for a vendor with taste. I believe I've found one.”
Behind Anna, Lizzy's mouth fell open.
Thomas froze with a tea box halfway in his hands.
Anna accepted the card carefully.
“It would be an absolute honor to collaborate with you, Mrs. Moreau.”
“Wonderful. I'll have my assistant contact you on Monday so we can discuss the details.”
Genevieve glanced at the pastries.
“And before I go, I'll take a box of those gold-dusted pastries and two packs of the floral tea.”
“Right away.”
Lizzy practically flew toward the display.
Genevieve accepted her purchase, gave Anna one final approving nod, and disappeared into the crowd.
Thomas stared after her.
“Boss…”
Anna turned.
“Did you just do that?”
Anna looked down at the business card in her hand.
Then she laughed.
“I think I just did.”
“That calls for a toast,” Thomas declared. “After we close.”
Anna smiled.
Before she could answer, the moderator's voice echoed through the conservatory, announcing the beginning of the evening's dramatic readings.
Thomas nodded toward the crowd.
“Why don't you go enjoy yourself? We've got everything here.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely,” Lizzy said. “You've been working all week. Go.”
Anna hesitated before finally smiling.
“Fine. But call me if the line gets crazy.”
“Go!” Lizzy laughed.
Anna stepped away from the booth.
The conservatory had grown even more beautiful as darkness settled outside.
A small crowd gathered around the stone fountain, where actors dressed in period costumes prepared for the first performance.
Anna spotted Emily in the front row.
“There you are!”
Emily stood and pulled her into a quick hug.
“Look at you!”
Anna laughed.
“I saw you talking to Genevieve Moreau earlier. Tell me that was as important as it looked.”
“It was.”
Anna lowered her voice excitedly.
“She wants us to cater their seasonal galas.”
Emily's eyes widened.
“Anna!”
“Her assistant is calling Monday.”
“I knew it!”
Anna laughed.
“We should get a drink.”
“Absolutely not.”
Emily grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the drinks table.
“The punch tastes like piss.”
Anna burst out laughing.
“Be serious.”
“I am.”
They found their seats just as the lights dimmed. A classical guitar began playing softly. Two actors stepped into the candlelight.
The crowd fell silent.
Anna watched as the leading actor delivered a passionate monologue about lost love, betrayal, and fate.
Emily leaned toward her.
“See? Much better than the stupid punch.”
“Definitely.”
Anna smiled.
Then she heard the soft rustle of a coat beside her.
Someone slipped into the empty seat on her right.
“Forgive me,” a smooth voice whispered. “I hope I'm not disturbing you.”
Anna turned.
The man beside her looked to be in his early thirties. Dark hair, sharp features, expressive eyes. His navy tuxedo fit him perfectly, and he carried himself with the quiet confidence of someone accustomed to being noticed.
“No problem,” Anna whispered before turning back toward the stage.
For a few moments, neither spoke.
Then…
“I must say, the lead actor is dramatically overdoing Racine tonight.”
He had a faint smile on his lips.
“Though I suppose the candlelight makes up for the lack of subtlety.”
A quiet laugh escaped her.
“He's putting his whole soul into it. Give him some credit.”
“Fair enough.”
His gaze lingered on her.
“I'm Julian, by the way.”
“Anna.”
The name seemed to amuse him.
“Anna.”
He repeated it softly before turning back toward the stage.
The performance continued.
Then suddenly, the leading actress stopped.
She stared toward the audience.
“The man I mourned,” she announced dramatically, “was the very man who betrayed my family.”
A collective gasp swept through the glasshouse.
Anna's eyes widened.
Beside her, Julian leaned slightly closer.
“A lover turned rival,” he murmured.
His arm brushed hers.
His eyes met hers.
“Tell me, Anna…”
His voice dropped.
“Do you prefer stories with happy endings?”
A faint smile appeared on his lips.
“Or do you like a little tragedy?”
She opened her mouth to answer—
But before she could, Emily turned toward them.
Her eyes widened.
She looked from Julian to Anna.
Then silently mouthed:
I'll be write back.
Anna stared at her.
And for the first time that evening, she had absolutely no idea what to say.
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