Clarke walked around her shop with her arms crossed, scooting her shoes through piles of ash. Most of the damage was done to the Easter part of the shop going on into the wedding stuff. All the flowers that were sitting out at the time were too damaged to sell because of the smoke and water. The entire right wall was burned down so that the drywall would need to be replaced, and the coolers on that side of the room had shorted out. Plus, whatever had caused the fire needed to be fixed. It was extremely stressful, especially since she still had clients to see and needed to keep them coming in. Not to mention she couldn't imagine the ridicule and lecturing she'd get if her mother found out. This had to be fixed quickly.
A knocking came on the glass at the front, and Clarke looked up to see a guy in a pair of jeans and a button down shirt. She assumed it was the guy coming to give her an estimate of how much it would be to fix her electrical problem, but why in the world would he wear such nice clothes to look at a half burned shop?
Clarke shook the thought from her head and welcomed him in, holding out her hand to shake. "I'm Clarke Bennett. You must be Trevor; am I correct?" she asked, looking him up and down. In order to get this guy there she'd had to call in a favor with the guy she had slept with a few nights before. He was an electrical technician at some company, and the guy he sent was his direct supervisor. Hopefully the guy didn't know any gory details about their relationship. It was awkward enough.
"Yes, that's right. This looks like a real doozy," he commented, looking around. It made her think of her favorite comedian, Bill Engval, and his skit about stupid people needing a sign. This guy was one of them; stating the obvious. It was a fire for goodness sake! Of course it was a "doozy."
Clarke rolled her eyes before nodding and shooting him a friendly smile. She led him over to the worst part of the damage, and he began to look around at everything, chipping away at pieces of wall and grabbing wires in his hands to inspect. He looked more like a cheesy detective than a professional.
Finally, he stood up straight and came over to her, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket along with a pen. She watched nervously as he seemingly wrote an amount on it and then signed below. She guessed it was his way of giving her an estimate.