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“Brilliant. My baby girl is doing this thing.” Her eyes twinkled with pride. All I had to do was get some sunshine and drag my corpse out of bed to make my mama proud. “Now that you have more time on your hands not carryin’ that albatross around with you anymore, have you made any inroads on your business plans?”
My mother had loved Andy—or so I’d thought—but as soon as we broke up, she’d begun to refer to him as “that albatross.” Whatever her feelings had been, if any, were long gone, and she seemed pleased he was too.
“I hate to let you down, but I haven’t done anything. I’ve thought about it, but I’ve been frantically trying to catch up with work I’d set aside last month and truly haven’t had the time.”
She nodded. “Sure, babe. That excuse works this month. What’s it going to be next month?”
My brows dropped. It wasn’t like her to be so…blunt. That was my thing. “Is this what they call tough love?”
She tilted her head and tapped her cheek. “You know, I think it is. You’ve had this business idea for a long time, and it’s just wasting away. What’s stoppin’ you now that your primary naysayer is out of the picture?”
“Don’t mince your words, Mama.”
She rolled her eyes. “I bit my tongue for a long time because you loved that boy and I love you, but I don’t have to do that anymore. He held you back from living as big as you deserve. Now, you get to do what you want. Start your business. There’s no reason not to.”
I threw my hands out. “This is bigger than a little web design or what I do at Nick’s. I don’t even know where to start. I’m assuming I need a commercial kitchen, but maybe I don’t. And that’s just the logistics. There’s also all the marketing material, the graphics, making contacts…I have no idea what the first step is.”
One of her dark blonde brows winged. “That sounds like a pile of excuses.”
“It might be, but it’s also the truth.”
Shuffling came from outside the open office door. A moment later, two women dressed in black appeared. My mother popped out of her seat, her professional mask on in an instant.
“Mrs. Goldman, I’m sorry I wasn’t out front to greet you.” My mother clasped hands with the woman who couldn’t have been older than thirty, her eyes red-rimmed and glassy. This must have been Frank Goldman’s daughter.
The woman’s chin quivered, but she waved my mother’s concerns away. “No, it’s not a problem. We’re early. And please, call me Shira. Mrs. Goldman makes me sound like my mother-in-law.” Her sad eyes fell on me. “I’m sorry. We heard voices in here and—”
The other woman placed her hand on Shira’s shoulder. She wore a no-nonsense suit, and her hair was cut into a shoulder-length bob with edges as sharp as glass. “To be blunt, we were eavesdropping.”
My mom let out a soft giggle. “Well, it’s a good thing we weren’t discussing state secrets. This is my daughter, Daisy.”
I stood, giving them both a solemn wave. I’d learned long ago never to say “nice to meet you” to someone here for a funeral. There was nothing nice about being here for them.
“Is there anything I can get for you?” I asked.
The no-nonsense woman spoke first. “Actually, we were thinking there’s something we could do for you.” She pressed her hand to her chest. “I’m Clara Rossi, by the way. My sister-in-law, Saoirse, owns a business strategy firm. She does exactly what you need.”
I blinked at this woman I’d never seen before but whose last name I immediately recognized. Rossi Motors was the largest manufacturer of motorcycles in the United States. There was no doubt Clara Rossi was part of that dynasty.
At my obvious confusion, Shira softly clarified. “What Clara means is, Saoirse and her partner help new businesses form plans from scratch. Everything you said you need, they will either do for you or find the answers.”
“Oh.” I shook my head. “I’m just thinking of starting something small. They probably work with much larger clients.”
“They work with clients of all sizes.” Clara pulled a business card from her wallet. “Call Saoirse. Tell her Clara sent you. She’ll hook you up, I promise.”
Peak Strategies
I’d never heard of them, but that didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t like I had my finger on the pulse of the business world. I liked their card. It looked like a piece of wood with the silhouette of Denver’s skyline “burned” into the grain. My mind started whirring with the type of business card I would have. Reality struck before I could get lost in my fantasies, though. I had to have a business before I could have a cool card.
Shira took a step forward and reached out but didn’t quite touch me. “Frank and I had this game. We’d ask each other to name the bright side of a tricky or shitty situation. I—well, without him, I can’t seem to find the bright side in anything.”
She broke off to dab the welling tears in her eyes, and I inwardly kicked myself for wrongly guessing Frank Goldman had been her dad. Shira was here to lay her husband to rest.
Shira took a deep breath. “But I think this must be the bright side. I’m not one to eavesdrop, but something compelled me to listen to your conversation. You can’t deny serendipity, can you?”
I sucked in a shaky breath. “Helping me out would be your bright side?”
She nodded. I glanced at my mother. Her hands were tucked under her chin, and she looked like she was about to burst, but she didn’t say a thing, letting me decide.
