The House of the Rose

Chapter 1

I woke before the sun, the way I always do.

The ceiling above me was still dark, washed faintly in moonlight, and for a moment I stayed there—quiet, listening to the familiar hush of the early morning. This hour belonged to me alone.

“This is my life,” I murmured into the stillness, smiling.

I pushed the covers aside and sat up, my feet finding the cool floor as the city breathed softly beyond my windows. At four in the morning, Honolulu feels suspended between worlds. The ocean stretched out like velvet beneath the moon’s glow, and the city lights shimmered below—constellations scattered across the earth instead of the sky.

I never grew tired of this view. Each morning it greeted me with the same quiet reminder: pay attention.

Today, that feeling carried more weight than usual.

The Venusian Rose was turning one. A full year since I unlocked the doors to my shop for the first time. Since then, it has grown into something incredible and unique. Travelers arrive from places I’d only read about, lining up before the doors opened, drawn by something they couldn’t always name.

Nearly five years went into imagining this place—collecting, listening, following threads of curiosity wherever they led. In many ways, the shop became a time capsule: fragments of cultures, eras, and belief systems woven together into a space that reflected the way I’ve always seen the world.

I’ve called it a metaphysical shop, but that’s never felt quite right. In truth, The Venusian Rose is simply a gathering of the things that have moved me—the symbols, stories, and objects that made me pause long enough to wonder.

If I had to choose a single word to describe it, it would be diverse. And it’s that diversity—of thought, of experience, of path—that brings people through the door. The first year alone introduced me to more stories than I could have imagined.

And today, I planned to honor every one of them

TVR is almost five thousand square feet and located in the heart of Hawaii’s infamous Waikiki. 

From the outside, the interior is completely hidden.  The double doors and storefront glasses are blacked out and reflective, so when people try to peek inside, all they see is themselves. It’s oddly amusing to watch from within. People often press their faces to the glass, hoping for a glimpse of what’s inside. It always makes me smile. Humans are funny that way.  

The reflective glass deepens the mystery. The moment the doors open, the energy shifts, and it feels as though you’ve stepped into another realm. I was given the rare opportunity to create my own universe inside this shop—and I took it. 

The front door opens into a Koa wood walkway, lit by purple amethyst’s. The space is dark with the sound of water playing quietly in the background and, soft yellow star lights glowing from the ceiling and the walls. Its as if you’re walking alongside a slow moving river, in the forest at night. I call this space, “The Liminal”— the space in-between. The atmosphere is peaceful and serene and prepares its visitors to enter different realms within the shop. 

The walkway leads you toward’s the world’s largest Amethyst Tree of Life. It stands at the center of the shop, rising ten feet high and stretching eight feet wide. The tree was designed by an artist on the Big Island of Hawai’i and carved from a massive, breathtaking piece of koa wood. 

The amethysts were meticulously carved and wrapped in gold-colored chains and suspended from the branches. Each stone was either collected or gifted to me from around the world.  

There are several flowing walkways that lead customer’a gently through the shop, guiding them toward different areas within the space. 

To the right of the Amethyst Tree of Life, a wooden sign, shaped as an arrow, lead’s you toward’s The Library of Sophia. This bookstore was built to resemble the libraries of the 17th and 18th century. With it’s  Baroque style of architecture, the space was both dynamic and bold, alive with movement and intention. 

Customers enter through a painted archway and, the ethereal essence of the shop’s entrance immediately shift.  I stayed true to the dramatic movement characteristic of Baroque architecture, where nothing stands still. Every statute and painting that lined the walls and shelves appear as though it is in motion —leaning, reaching, and competing gently for your attention. 

The archway opens into a magnificent dome, and within the dome, trompe-l’oeil painting techniques were used to create the illusion of endless depth. 

Whites, golds, and rich shades of brown fill the space, communicating the timeless elegance of European luxury. The moment you stepped inside, the world beyond the archways seems to fall away. Sound softens. Footsteps echo faintly beneath the domes, and the air carries the quiet, comforting scent of old paper and English Oak. It feels as though the library itself is breathing — watching, listening, welcoming. 

Some describe the experience as stepping into history. Others said it feels like entering an entirely different universe. Either way, you are “no longer in Kansas, Toto.” 

The shelves are lined with every book I had ever fallen in love with over the years. These were the stories and teachings that stirred curiosity and adventure in my heart: from the legendary myth’s of Percy Jackson, to the beloved vampire saga Twilight; from the gentle wisdom of Wayne Dyer to the “woo-woo” channeling of Abraham Hicks; from the ancient teachings of the Kabbalah, to the many versions of the greatest story ever told—the Bible. 

Each book had spoken to me in a different way, at a different moment in my life. Together, they formed a constellation of meaning—proof that truth does not belong to a single voice or tradition. I wanted to share that realization with the world. 

The bookstore was named for Sophia—wisdom herself— because no single belief rules within its walls. This is a place where curiosity is welcome, where ideas can coexist without judgment, and where stories are allowed to contradict, challenge, and inspire one another. The magic within each book is free to move through whoever chooses to open it. That is the environment I set out to create. 

At the center of the dome stands a round table crafted from English oak, inspired by the legendary Round Table of King Arthur. Bearing my own designed coat of arms, a quiet reminder that every gathering creates its own lineage. My hope is that those who sat there would find common ground through conversation and connection—that despite arriving from different backgrounds, cultures and beliefs, they will recognize one another through the simple truth of being human. 

Stories of love, loss, wonder, and freedom are shared there. Laughter rises naturally, weaving itself into the hush of the bookstore. And hearing these voices—mingling, questioning, discovering—told me that the space is exactly what I dreamed it would be. 

As you step out of the front dome of the Library of Sophia, and back onto the Amethyst lit walkway,  the atmosphere deepens. The reverence of the library follows you downward, gently unfolding into sound. 

There, I created a sleek jazz lounge called Salimbay, named for my father.

He was an infamous jazz musician who traveled the world, sharing his love of music wherever he went. He is the inspiration behind this part of The Venusian Rose. My father passed away when I was fourteen years old, and Salimbay was created to honor not only his memory, but the way music continues to carry presence long after the musician is gone. 

One of the most unique aspects of Salimbay is that it is built into the ground, as though it were held by the earth itself. Seven descending rows of ten intimate, two-seater round tables lead toward a stage at the base of the stairway. The space is shaped in a gentle half-circle, wrapped in gold geometric patterns embedded into the walls—diffusive textures designed to allow sound to move evenly, surrounding rather than overpowering those who listen.

The room is dressed in deep black, creating a sense of stillness and focus. Maroon tablecloths and chairs trimmed in gold soften the space with warmth. At the center of each table rests a golden, hourglass-shaped candle, while tiny star-like lights scatter upward from floor to ceiling, giving the impression that time has slowed and the night sky has settled indoors. 

Just above the stage, a single microphone remains in place at all times. It is never removed. Some notice it immediately. Others feel it before they see it.

An elegant bar was built into the wall, a few feet away from the left of the stage. Offering high top tables, for those who wish to be closer to the music.  Every evening, different jazz artists take the stage at Salimbay, allowing sound to rise naturally through the space. Alongside the music, we offer an intentionally curated menu of Filipino appetizers and drinks—flavors rooted in my lineage and memory, reminding everyone that culture, like music, is something we carry within us.

 In this way, Salimbay exists not apart from the Library of Sophia, but as a continuation of it—a place where what is learned above is felt below, where knowledge softens into experience, and where presence is expressed without words.

To the left of the Amethyst Tree of Life, another walkway guides you into an indoor cave carved directly into the space— The Venusian Vault. The walls curve inward, forming natural alcoves and shelves that hold unique crystals I collected from around the world—each one chosen not only for its beauty, but for the memory and place it carries with it.

Some of the crystals are set directly into the cave walls, positioned so they appear to be growing naturally from the stone itself, as though the earth had chosen to reveal them rather than have them placed there. Light catches along their edges, casting soft reflections that shift as you move, giving the space a quiet sense of life.

The air inside the cave feels cooler and still. Along several of the carved shelves rest carefully selected tarot and oracle decks, waiting for the right reflective mind to choose them. 

Within the chamber stand three glass cases, each filled with crystal, gold, and silver jewelry pieces I designed over the years. Every piece is one of a kind—formed slowly, intentionally, as an extension of the same creative impulse that shaped the rest of the space.

What makes this cave especially unique is that it was designed as a vault. At the end of the day, I simply close the cave door and secure it with a lock programmed directly from my iPhone. Ancient elements held in modern hands. Stone, metal, and time—protected by technology.

I love that contrast and, integration. 

Another walkway, lead’s you to the entrance of the Ivy Atelier. 

There is no sharp threshold—only a gentle narrowing before the space expands again, rounded, beige walls holding the room in a quiet embrace. Light enters carefully here, diffused as it slips along the curves, softened by sheer panels that sway almost imperceptibly as you pass. It never rushes. It settles.

This is where my designs live.

Ivy Atelier is arranged like an art gallery rather than a boutique. Nothing competes for attention. Along the curved walls, garments rest at measured intervals, each one given enough space to breathe. Silk catches the light and releases it. Heavier fabrics hold their form, seams revealing themselves only when you move closer.

Some pieces invite touch before you realize you’ve reached for them. A sleeve cool against the skin. A fold of fabric that yields beneath your fingers. The kind of contact that quiets the body rather than pulls it forward.

At the center of Ivy Atelier, low tables anchor the space. Their surfaces are smooth, worn just enough to feel familiar. Objects meant for everyday ritual are placed with the same care as the garments—paper with weight to it, pens that settle naturally in the hand, cards aligned as though already chosen. Nothing here feels secondary. A gown and a pencil exist with equal presence.

The palette grounds the room—warm neutrals layered in natural fibers, softened by subtle gold that appears only when the light meets it at the right angle. Curves repeat themselves in the walls, the furniture, the way the space moves, until the room feels less like somewhere you entered and more like something you’re being held within.

There is no urgency in Ivy Atelier.
No pressure to decide.
The space does not ask anything of you.

Every piece carries a story. Some were born from memory, others from longing, others from joy. If you asked about any one of them, I could tell you where it came from—not because I learned it, but because I lived it. 

A new walkway is being constructed, leading toward’s the back of TVR.  It is a space I have been creating to honor my mother, who passed away just before my shop opened. I am taking my time with the construction of this space. This project is deeply sacred to me. It is my way of both honoring and grieving a wonderful woman. The new walkway is lit by Peridot, which was my mother’s birthstone,  leading to a glowing door shaped as a half moon. Behind the moon-shaped door, I am constructing a luxury beauty and wellness spa. Right now, the new walkway is secured behind a wooden gate, but visitor’s are able to see that something new is coming. 

Many business owners dream of the day they no longer need to be present in their shops. For me, it’s the opposite. I love being here—moving through the space, speaking with customers, witnessing the quiet moment when something feels like it belongs to them.

The Venusian Rose is one of the most fulfilling creations I have ever brought to life. And today, I get to stand within it, celebrating not only what has been made, but the path that led me here.

I placed my feet on the floor, stood up and stretched my arm’s out. Gently waking up my body and mind. I paused for a moment, offering a quiet prayer of appreciation, and set the intention for a successful celebratory event. I’ve learned that mornings like this tend to listen. My employees and I had arranged something truly special, and based on the feedback flowing in across our media channels, we were expecting a generous turnout. TVR would open promptly at nine, which meant the entire team would arrive by seven to begin setting up.

I’ve learned to embrace those early hours, taking full advantage of the stillness before the world stirs. Most mornings start with a cup of coffee on the balcony of my apartment, the air cool and quiet, followed by at least an hour spent journaling.

Yes, I am a journal writer. I have been since I was in my early twenties. It has always been my way of doing three things: first, finding appreciation for all the good in my life; second, imagining my next steps; and finally, finding solutions to the challenges I face. There is something about the clarity of a new day that allows everything to settle into place. Answers have a way of arriving when I give them room.

After journaling, I immerse myself in my creative work. This is where new designs are born, new products are considered, and future events begin to take shape. Lately, much of that time had been devoted to refining the details of today’s celebration. This morning, however, I felt called to engage my creativity differently. I decided to draw.

Most of my designs begin as drawings. From there, they take on a life of their own, and I follow their instructions without question. This morning, I chose to honor my grandmother by drawing an orchid.

Her name was Perfecta—a beautiful Filipina woman who adored orchids and the color pink. The surest way to her heart was through a blooming orchid plant. I didn’t begin my creative life as someone who drew. It wasn’t until shortly after my mother passed that I picked up a pencil. Drawing became a way to move grief through my body, to give it shape when words failed. I taught myself how to draw, and once I began, the momentum never stopped. Now, I can bring an object to life on paper simply by observing it.

Last night, I was gifted a beautiful orchid. It stood nearly two feet tall, its stems heavy with fully bloomed, pastel-pink flowers. The moment I saw it, my thoughts turned to my grandmother. They always do. I smiled.

“You’re exactly the inspiration I needed,” I said softly.

I was about halfway into my second orchid sketch, when my phone started to ring. The name, “Rosaline”, shined brightly on my phone.

“Good Morning!” I joyfully answered. 

“Good Morning!” Rosaline exclaimed. “I am on my way to the shop. Did you want a latte from Hokulani Coffee Shop?” She asked. 

“That sounds amazing. I love their latte’s.” I responded. 

“So…” Rosaline began. “How did last night go?” She inquired curiously. 

“It was wonderful.” I answered. 

“He arranged a private dinner at his Penthouse. The chef, who by the way, was this beautiful Filipina woman, created an entire six course meal for us. A mixed green salad with a creamy lilikoi dressing, a thick cream of mushroom soup with perfectly seasoned croutons. She made us poke with a sauce she refused to give us the recipe to. And the main dish was a surf turf. Perfectly cooked New York Steak’s and crab legs. She even cut open the legs for us, so we wouldn’t have to do the work. It was so good.” I explained, as I reminisced about the previous night’s festivities. 

“No dessert?” Rosaline asked. 

“Oh yes! She made a Banana Lumpia Sundae on steroids. It was yummy. She also whipped up these great dessert drinks after. Oh! And he gifted me this beautiful pink orchid, which I am currently using as inspiration for a new design. ” I explained. 

“That sounds amazing! Oooo, a pink orchid. How fitting. Are you thinking of the beautiul Mrs. Perfecta?” Rosaline asked. She knew so much about where I draw my inspiration’s from.

“Of course I am.” I answered.

“I can’t wait to see what you come up with! Sooo…what do you think about him?!” She asked.

“Well,” I started, “I think he’s incredibly handsome. I love looking at him.” I said with a laugh. “He’s fit, intelligent, very attentive and considerate. We have great conversation’s and is about a B in bed.” I continued. 

Rosaline laughed. 

“Just a B?” She asked

“Yeah, just a B. B for basic. Not bad, just basic.” I answered. 

“He does get an A for effort. That was the first time anyone’s ever arranged a private dinner, with a private chef for me before.” I added with grace. 

“You shouldn’t expect anything less.” Rosaline said confidently. 

“You’re absolutely right. And, neither should you.” I responded. 

“Never!” She exclaimed.

“Sooo…did you consider that a date?” She asked curiously. 

“Well, no. We both made it clear that it wasn’t a date. It was just for fun.” I responded nonchalantly. 

“I love that about you. No bullshit.” She responded. 

“You just have to be honest and clear about what you want. In all aspects of life.” I said.  

“I am definitely learning that from you.” She responded. 

“Okay, so I am about to pull up to the coffee shop, I will see you soon!” She informed. 

Soon?!

I glanced at the time. It was already 5:30am! The time had moved so fast and I hadn’t even brushed my teeth yet. 

“See you soon!” I replied as I hung up the phone and moved quickly into the bathroom to get ready.

An hour later, I took a look in the mirror and admired the beautiful dress I had designed specifically for this event. 

The dress moves before I do. It is the color of ripened wine held up to candlelight — deep, velvety almost alive. The fabric gathers softly at my waist and from there, it falls in long, fluid folds, parting as I walk. 

The neckline dips low and the sleeves billow gently at my arms. There is an unapologetic slit along my thigh, that reveals the tattoo’s etched into my skin with every step.  Standing in this dress feels ceremonial. When I walk, it feels dangerous—in the best way. Like something worn by a woman who knows exactly who she is and has finally stopped asking for permission to take up space. 

It was everything I wanted it to be. 

My make-up was a mix of bronze, gold’s and brown’s to highlight my features and a lipstick that matched the color of my dress perfectly.  I wore elegant golden stud, rose-shaped earrings and its matching necklace that sat perfectly above my bosom. It was a jewelry set I had designed when TVR first opened it doors. I let my hair fall into it’s long, natural waves. 

I love taking the time to adorn myself every morning. It was one of my most favorite parts of the day. 

My apartment building, Park Place, is a high rise building connected to Waikiki’s luxury mall.For many months, I would drive past this place, in my silver 2019 Honda Accord,  and declare that I would one day be a Park Place, luxury apartment owner. 

I walked downstair’s and was greeted by the lovely doorman, Fred. He is a senior Filipino man, who has been looking out for me since I moved in.  He even brings me home-cooked Filipino meals. I told him once that both of my parent’s had passed away and how much I missed my Dad’s cooking. The next day, he showed up at my door with a steaming hot plate of Pinakbet.

Every morning, we engage in conversation. I’ve even made it a habit to leave my apartment twenty minutes before my ride arrives to make time for our valuable conversations.  He has so many stories of old Hawai’i during the plantation era and what it was like growing up then. 

“Good Morning, Ahreyla! Are you ready for your big event today?” He asked, as he walked towards the front door. 

“Hi Mr. Fred! Good Morning! Yes, I am as ready as I’ll ever be.” I replied. 

Just as he was about to open the front door for me, he stopped and said,  “Someone dropped off a package for you this morning.” 

“Oh yeah? Do you know who it was?” I asked. 

“I did not recognize him, but he was an older man, tall, skinny, with long, salt and pepper hair. It seemed like he was in a rush. I’m sorry, I should have asked for his name.” He answered. 

That’s strange. 

The description did not sound like anyone I knew. 

“No need to apologize!” I assured him. “Thank you.” 

“Not a problem. I hope your event goes well today.” Fred responded, as he handed over the package. It was a typical brown lunch bag, that was folded neatly, and stapled at the top. 

I walked outside to wait for my ride, and  was just about to open the bag, when a black Lincoln Navigator pulled up in front of me. Park Place provides free transportation anywhere within the city and I take full advantage of that.

“What’s up Ahreyla! Today’s a big day for you.” Paul said, as he came around from the driver’s side to open my door. 

Paul is one of Park Place’s most animated drivers and is my personal favorite.  He is a 65 year old,  Hawaiian and Portugese man. Every ride with Paul is filled with stories about his wife and children, his fishing adventures and nights of karaoke with his neighbors. His storytelling is so expressive, it makes me laugh. 

“It is! I’m excited! How was your granddaughter’s birthday party last night?” I replied as I got into the vehicle.\

I waited for his reply as he made his way around to the driver’s seat. 

“It was good. Tiring, but good. I’m glad it’s over. We have so much leftover laulaus and lomi salmon. I’ll bring you some tomorrow. My wife told me to bring it this morning and I forgot ‘em.” He said as he pulled out of the driveway. 

“Oh yum! Can’t wait. It’s been awhile since I’ve had a good laulau.” I replied. 

I love laulau’s and I love when people bring me home cooked meal’s. That is one of the best part’s about growing up in Hawai’i. Not only are the people diverse, the food is, too.

As Uncle Paul went on to tell me more stories about his granddaughter’s birthday party, my attention began to drift toward’s the package Fred handed me. 

What could it possibly be? 

For a small package, it was heavy and I could tell there was a rectangular box inside. 

I looked up and realized we were already passing TVR and there was a line that was beginning to form. Paul drove me around to the back entrance, just as he was coming to the end of his story about how his granddaughter ended up burying her face in the lilikoi butter cake. 

“I would have done the same.” I said as I gathered my belonging’s together. 

“The lilikoi butter cake from Kapiolani Bakery is worthy of that type of reaction.” I explained through laughs. 

He got out of the car to open my door. 

“Well, I hope today goes good for you.” He said. 

“Thank you Paul. I appreciate you.” I replied as I got out of the car. 

Just as he was about to close the door behind me, he said, “Ahreyla! Don’t forget your package!”

“Oh yes, thank you!” I exclaimed, as I placed the package in my bag. 

“Ahreyla!” I heard from across the parking lot.

Rosaline.

  “Good morning!” I exclaimed, as I watched her run towards me. She stopped to wave at Paul as he drove out of the parking lot. 

Rosaline is beautiful. She is a unique ethnic mix of Filipino, Japanese and Portugese. Her thick black hair falls past her shoulders, contrasting her fair skin. Her high cheek bones and almond shaped eyes, create a sultry, mysterious look that draw people in. She is curvy in all the right areas and magnetizes those around her in a way I don’t believe she is quite aware of.  She is twenty four years old, but has the wisdom of an old soul. Her musical abilities far exceed anyone I’ve ever met. Her ability to pick up any instrument and play it is astounding and her voice carries a depth and range that hypnotize entire crowds. She actually headlines at Salimbay, often.

The night Rosaline and I met, she was headlining a music event at a popular venue in Waikiki. We were introduced to eachother by a mutual friend, Jaz, who is also an employee at The Venusian Rose. We have been best friends since then, I ended up hiring her as my shop manager a year before the opening.  She helped me design the shop, took the lead in coordinating the build out, assisted me in creating a system for the shop to run smoothly and recruited, hired and trained a team of eighteen, including herself. 

She has been a huge blessing to me.

Today, Rosaline was dressed in the same attire as me, which was the plan. Except that she sported a custom, rose gold name plate, pinned to the upper left side of her outfit, with the engraving, “Ms. Rosaline.”  

“I love your outfit.” I proudly stated. 

“Thank’s.” She exclaimed with a huge grin on her face.

“I know the designer.” She continued, as she did a quick twirl. I admired the way the dress danced through the air.

“Where is everyone else?” I asked, as I observed that there were no familiar vehicles in the parking lot. 

“I’m not too sure.  We’re a few minute’s early, though. They’ll be here soon.” She quickly replied as she began opening the back door to the shop. 

The employee entrance is located in the underground parking lot and leads into the employee’s lounge. The room is painted a deep shade of darkbrown with beige, cream and light brown decor mounted on the walls and meticulously placed throughout the room. A walnut colored chaise sectional couch sit’s in front of a 60 inch mounted television, and, a large wooden farmhouse dining table is beautifully displayed next to the room’s full kitchen. It is also complete with a full bathroom and locker room.

I am proud of the fact that the same team of eighteen that started with me one year ago, is still with me. 

“Surprise!” I heard immediately as I stepped into the employee lounge after Rosaline. 

It took me a minute to adjust my eye’s and focus on what was happening. My entire team was there, dressed and ready to prepare The Venusian Rose for its one year anniversary celebration. In the middle of the farm table, they had placed a beautiful arrangement of flower’s and balloon’s, next to a basket of pastries and baked good’s. There was also, eleven place setting’s and a deliciously made breakfast on each plate. Along the wall behind the table, was a sign that read, “Happy 1 Year Anniversary!”. 

I started to tear. 

“Thank you, guys. This is so sweet.” I managed to say, as I wiped the tears from my face. 

“We also wanted to show you the employee lounge’s new hardware.” Jaz said,  as she walked toward’s the kitchen to show me the new addition. 

It was a Breville Barista Touch Expresso Machine. 

“We know how much you love latte’s, so we decided this would be a perfect gift for the shop’s one year anniversary,” she explained. 

“I love this so much, thank you!” I replied. 

She was right. I love latte’s and I had casually mentioned this particular expresso machine in a conversation a few weeks ago. 

I took a moment to observe the smile on everyone’s faces and appreciate the moment for what it was. Everyone looked incredible in their matching outfits. What an impression we were going to make today. 

“You guys are the best. Thank you so much for taking the time do all of this.” I expressed with deep gratitude in my voice. 

“Shall we eat?” 

By 7:30am, we were cleaning up and beginning to set things up for the day’s event. There wasn’t too much to do this morning because the team stayed after hours yesterday . 

Shortly after,  everything was prepped and I called a team meeting in the employee lounge. 

“First of all, I would like to thank all of you for the hardwork you’ve been doing to put today’s event together.” I began, as I scrolled through the notes on my iPad. 

“Like we discussed yesterday, I have Tiara and Lily on in the Library of Sophia.” I said, as I looked in their direction for approval. 

“Yes,” they both said in unison. 

“Lani, you’re hostess at the Salimbay.” I stated. “With, Haren, Gary, and George who are serving, Glen at the bar, and, the Theo brothers in the kitchen.” 

The Theo brothers are five, very talented, filipino chef’s that Rosaline hired a few months before we opened shop. They developed the menu, conducted private and public taste testing’s before settling on the simple, yet tasty menu we decided upon today. 

“Yes,” Haren responded.  “And, every table receives a free Lumpia dish.” 

“Correct. That’s going to be a big hit!” I said. 

I gave the Theo brother’s my Dad’s lumpia recipe and they enhanced it in the most magical way. It has become our most popular dish. So, I decided to offer it as a gift to every person who ate at Salimbay today. 

“I have Chelsey and Victoria in the Venusian Vault.” I said, as I looked up to see their smiling faces. 

Those two are the best saleswomen in my shop. They are beautiful, intelligent, and have the ability to carry a conversation right into a perfect closing sale.

“Yes,” Chelsey replied. “Also, someone called the other day, inquiring about our Deep Russian Amethyst Crystal. I just wanted to confirm, it is still NOT for sale, right?” 

“Correct, it is not for sale. It is strictly a display crystal.” I responded firmly.

“Did you get information about the caller?” I asked. 

“ I did. It’s in the Team Notes on the iPad.” She responded. 

I quickly went through the Team Notes. 

Ann? I know a handful of Ann’s, but I’m pretty sure none of them would be interested in the amethyst. 

I looked over at Rosaline, who was already looking at me with confusion.

“Okay, thank you. I’ll follow up with her after today’s event.” I said.  

“And then we have, Jaz and Elizabeth in the boutique.” I stated. 

“Yes!” Jaz responded with enthusiasm. 

“Vanessa is at the front door greeting customer’s and, answering question’s. Rosaline will be monitoring all area’s throughout the day. Please make sure you have your ear pieces and watches on for efficient communication with eachother. We will open the door’s at 9am and close promptly at 6pm. In Salimbay, your last seating is at 5pm. Does anyone have any questions?” I asked, as I scanned the room. 

No one responded. 

“By the way, you all look so amazing.” I added.

“Alright, everyone! Let’s have a successful event!” I exclaimed. 

As everyone filed out of the employee lounge, I looked over at Rosaline and silently mouthed, “Wait for me.” 

When the last person left, she closed the door and looked at me, wide-eyed. 

“Do you know any Ann’s that would be interested in buying the amethyst?” I asked anxiously. 

“I have an idea, but I haven’t seen her in many years. I don’t even think she’s alive.  ” She responded with the same concern. 

“Okay, well, let’s make sure to keep our eyes on whoever enters the Venusian Vault today. ” I said cautiously.