Jennifer walked around the interior of her building. The lights had recently been installed to her satisfaction. They were set for a dim lighting now: allowing her to see the space, yet not bright or distracting. She moves through the entranceway, leaving Liam to lock the door behind them. Her brown autumn eyes rise to take in the high ceiling. She moves through the small entranceway, pausing to open the door to the left. A walk-in coat check, perfect for an establishment of this size where attendants would accept coats and accessories and watch over them. The next door led to a small room with a few seats along the wall, yet mostly open space. Jennifer intended this to be where ghouls and proxies were sent while business was conducted.
Jennifer continued through a doorway, entering a small exhibit room. This room would be open for the public at Jennifer’s discretion. The size would be perfect for intimate settings. She turns and enters the entranceway, heading to an expensive wooden door. The podium was present where the staff would stand, allowing entry to only a chosen few. She opens the heavy door and steps inside to the larger room. This room was carefully designed to her specifications to display a larger body of art. The room had lavender paint on an accent wall, creating what Jennifer felt was a dream – like quality. She presses a dimmer to raise the light a bit more, walking in a circle. Already imagining a floral centerpiece for the room. Something with renewal. Perhaps marigolds.

Jennifer moves to a second door, this one more carefully placed. Artfully constructed and designed so that the eye moved over it. Placed so that staff could discreetly stand near it, subtly discouraging investigation. Pressing a place on the wall, the hidden door unlocked and Jennifer pushed it open. She walks into a medium sized room, appointed with a long meeting table set with eight seats. The room was designed around the table, featuring a present table that did not dominate the room. Set in shelving where art and floral arrangements could be set, in full view of those sitting on the table. She ran a hand along the back of a chair, her own hand pausing on the chair. Recalling when another hand had paused on such a chair a short while ago.
Jennifer checked the small adjacent room which featured a small peephole and door. Using the door, she walked into a fourth room. This one was the largest yet, set up like a ball room. A small ball room, by ball room standards. Yet it would be large enough for her. She walked the room, imagining what events may take place. This had a small hallway attached, which she traveled by to return to the main small entranceway. A small hallway with two locked doors led to an upstairs area, reserved for a small office area for managing the salon.
All was as it should be. Her eyes lift slightly, imagining the much smaller, intimate space above. She was confident it was time.

Liam presented her with a white box, setting out a small variety of napkins upon a table. Jennifer surveys the napkins, which had different fonts. They spelled out various names that meant renewal and vigor. Another basket was placed out, with wrapped live flowers, kept moist for this brief inspection. Jennifer plucked up a Persicaria, considering the bloom for a moment. It did not quite fit the theme, for restoration suggested some ruination prior. She hands the bloom to Liam to place in water as she selects another blossom. Blue Convolvulus.
She lingers over this one. It held memories for her. Of deep, ancient libraries. Of a quiet mentor, whose approval was hard won. Jennifer had entertained vain thoughts of entreating the House for membership eight years ago. Yet the House was hundreds of miles away. Two of its’ members slumbered in Sweet Torpor. I no longer fit there, she accepted. I was taught valuable lessons. Yet I do not need to be there. This is a reason I have created this site. This is a way for me to fulfil obligations. Jennifer shed the childlike thought of house membership there by tucking the flower behind her ear. Sometimes a flower was just a flower. This one held no more deeper meaning to her than what messages it could say.

Bittersweet; Nightshade. Her hand hovers over it, yet she reaches past it to puck a different flower out of a bowl of water. This she holds, twirling it in her fingers. She had discarded it earlier due to overuse. Abundance. Considering it common. Yet she was thinking of deeper meaning, considering qualities of purity, strength, rebirth and resilience. The lotus flower meaning varies from culture to culture. The other meaning would hold eloquence to those who knew the language. She decided that this was the one. It did not matter what others had done with the name, or what others would think of it. She found it pleasing.
“Make the call to have the sign installed.” She decided. It was time. “Lotus.”