Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 111980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
“She’s loving it here,” Salma says, then adjusts her hijab, keeping it tighter around her face, which she often does when she interacts with men.
“I’m so glad to hear that. We strive to be the place to be for the discerning dog,” he says.
“And I just love how everything is run. It’s neat, tidy, and so organized. The text message updates on the dogs throughout the day, the confirmation of their reservation—it runs so much more smoothly than before.”
Warmth spreads in my chest. I’m glad people in town are liking how he runs his business. Not simply because I share a space with him, but because I want him to succeed.
Well, I like him.
As a person.
A co-worker. A colleague.
When Salma leaves and Dandelion lopes happily into the play area, I march up to the counter with my sunshine dialed up to eleven, and I plunk the box down. “Good morning,” I say, as cheery as a chipmunk in a cartoon flick.
Sawyer looks up from the tablet, his expression unreadable. “Good morning, Chloe.”
The words are nice, but the tone is ice. A chill runs down my spine.
But no worries. I’ve got the ultimate icebreaker. I gesture to the pretty box, giving a theatrical flourish that would make Mom proud. “I brought donuts. Chocolate frosted, cinnamon sugar, cherry bomb, maple iced, frosting filled,” I say, then stop to lower my voice. “Might need to save that one for me. And there’s also a coconut cream. But really, they’re delish.”
He glances down at them, then back at me. “The team will love that.”
Team. Has he always called them the team? It’s so professional. So serious. “And I thought you would too,” I add with a smile.
“I don’t like donuts,” he says with regret, like he’s letting me down easily. He motions to the daycare behind him. “But like I said, I bet the team will. Speaking of the team, we should get everyone on board for the Webflix plans. Let them know what we’ll need, what everyone’s role will be, and so on. I find it’s best if we’re transparent and clear about our expectations. I can work on an agenda for the meeting, but your input would be valuable too.”
My input would be valuable? Did he transform into Super Robotic Businessman this morning?
“Sure,” I say tentatively, even though I’m having flashbacks to my days at Fitzburger Events where I made PowerPoints and worked on presentations and loathed every day of office work. I shudder at the thought of office work. Of offices too. “I’ll email you?”
“Email sounds great. I have a call with San Francisco in five.”
He turns and walks away without taking the coconut cream donut.
I spent thirty bucks on baked goods—and he shut me out like a cold-as-ice CEO. He’s not even my boss.
But he’s acting like one.
20
YAPPY HOUR
SAWYER
“I’m thinking of asking Latanya to be my girlfriend.”
This announcement comes from my father as we walk past the gourmet market on a warm Saturday morning in July, passing stands full of flowers—tulips and lavender. Which makes me think of Chloe, since her friend works at the lavender farm.
I snap my gaze away, focusing on Dad. “At your age? Is that even allowed?”
He scoffs. “Watch it. I’m young.” He shoots me a teasing look, puffing out his chest. He’s dressed like a happy old guy living well—khaki shorts, neatly pressed, a peach polo shirt, and barely a care in the world.
It’s good to see him like this, especially since my parents divorced—a good divorce, they called it—a couple of years ago after thirty-five years of marriage. Something I’d never expected to see. But if you asked my sisters, they’d tell you they weren’t entirely surprised. They both said they always got the sense that our parents liked each other…but they didn’t love each other. I suppose Mom and Dad both seem happier now. They live in the city and have been enjoying the apps a lot.
Or so my sisters tell me. I wish I were as observant as they are. Then maybe I would’ve noticed that Katya was cheating on me.
“Anyway,” I say, shifting topics as we near The Slippery Dipper, its black-and-white awning flapping gently in the breeze, the caricature of a woman in a sudsy bathtub folding and unfolding with the wind. “So you’re finding time to have a girlfriend. I guess you’re really enjoying retirement.”
“Highly recommend it,” he says, clapping me on the shoulder. “How are you finding the new business—with dogs?”
There’s some healthy skepticism in his tone. I get it. When I told him I wanted to open a dog daycare, he cross-examined me for days, even though he’d already retired. He didn’t get it. Didn’t understand why I’d want to make that move after everything we’d accomplished in management consulting. Translation: after he’d turned over to me the business we’d built together.