Daisy took up her station at the counter. But then, why not? The girl had earned it, right?
She stepped aside and gestured to the till. “Lily, care to do the honours?”
“Most gracious of you, Your Highness.” Lily winked and hopped to position. Further along, Roseluck shuffled a batch of papers.
“Ready to do the accounting, Rose?” said Daisy.
“You bet!”
“Right on.” Daisy rubbed her hooves with glee. Never had she felt so full of sunshine. Though the rays themselves cast narrow beams up the walls – they were still under dawn’s watch, after all – she bathed in light lifting her up and warmth thick as honey around her. Not even the aches of a three-day sleep stood a chance. She hobbled unaided to the middle of the shop. Best of all: no weight in her chest. It had long since boiled away.
There she stayed, staring at the door. Surrounded by flowers yet unsold. She glanced behind her. Both Roseluck and Lily watched her too, clearly expecting a relapse.
Something stirred inside her chest…
Daisy did not fight it at all. Baku, Tantabus, or just guilt: something would be there eating away at her. What mattered was what she did next. Do, don’t think. Do, don’t think.
OK, think a little.
She gave Lily and Roseluck her full attention, about-turning as though she were addressing the Royal Guard.
“Girls,” she said. “I don’t know what’s going to happen next. We might get no customers. We might get some. We might get another cow stampede. I just don’t have a clue.”
Roseluck saluted. “Either way, we’re with you.”
“We’re together,” said Lily. “That is a certainty. The most certain thing I know right now.”
Daisy nodded. She would expect no less.
“It’s all right,” she blurted out before she could stop herself. “I’m a little nervous.”
“Me too,” said Lily at once.
“Well, I’m not as nervous as you two.” Roseluck’s smug look twitched. “Still a smidgen nervous.”
“Then… we’re nervous together?” said Daisy.
“Yes, yes, let’s go with that.” Lily hit the cash register, and they heard the cha-ching and the rattle of coins. “The Flower Trio: nervous but together.”
“Right.”
Daisy turned back to the entrance. Opening time was seconds away. The important point was that they were doing this together. Together, together, together –
Roseluck’s scream nearly sent Daisy through the roof. Sheer shock and poor limb coordination nearly sent her through the floorboards instead.
“What!? What!?” Daisy picked herself up.
None of the Flower Trio were speedsters, but Roseluck nearly sent nearby petals raining in her haste to reach the frontmost display.
“The carnations!” she wailed.
“What about them?”
“Nurse Redheart must have brushed them on the way out!”
“Why?”
Roseluck pointed.
There, in horrible green and mauve, horrendous as a broken spine, missing only the lightning flash and the proclamation of thunder: a snapped stem.
Roseluck met her gaze, and Daisy tried to think fast against the terror welling up her legs.
“It’s just a broken stem,” she managed to say. “We mustn’t panic. It’s just a broken stem.” Sweat clung to her face.
“Oh my!” moaned Lily behind her. “I knew this confidence thing was too good to last!” A thump, a slight rattle of coins, and Lily sighed on the rebound and landed on the floor.
Soon, Roseluck joined her. Only Daisy remained standing. Beauty disgraced, weeks of hard soil work broken, perfection defiled… All the old instincts of the flower pony came rushing back as a cool wind in the midsummer noon.
“We can handle this,” she repeated, “we can handle this, we can handle this… we can’t handle this.”
Yet as she went down, she couldn’t help feeling a smile spark on her lips. The Flower Trio, through and through. They still got it.
When she and the other two regained consciousness a few seconds later, they set to work at once arranging a flower funeral. And she knew then, as they mingled like drops on a windowpane, that all heavy worries would boil away under the constant warmth. If left in the sun for long enough.