Page 7 of Never To Be Mine

The product was phenomenal. Crunchy without being tooth-breaking, sweet without being candy, and they used quality ingredients. Real maple syrup. Actual nuts instead of peanut-flavored cardboard. Their chocolate chunks didn’t taste like wax.

But their marketing? Tragic.

They’d been selling at farmers’ markets and a handful of local co-ops, barely breaking even. The owners were a married couple in their fifties who knew how to make incredible food but had no idea how to scale a business. Their packaging looked like it had been designed with a sharpie. No website. And their pricing strategy suggested they liked giving away their product.

I brought them in to Young at Heart, rolled up my sleeves, and got to work.

New packaging. Professional photography. A website. Strategic placement in our existing retail partnerships. And a pricing structure that actually reflected the value of what they were selling.

The results had been immediate. I’d proven myself. Again.

I pulled up the detailed analytics, scanning through the numbers with satisfaction. Yes, it stroked my ego to see all those beautiful numbers.

Kari, my assistant, popped in. “Gonna have lunch in the office?”

I held up my smoothie. “Yep.”

“I brought an extra sandwich. Want to split it with me?”

“You don’t have to stay in the office because I am.”

She shrugged. “I’ve got work to do, too.” She walked in and sat down. “You know, you can take thirty minutes to eat.”

“I’m on a cleanse. This smoothie promises I’ll be ten pounds lighter and a hundred times smarter.”

She laughed. “You would never put anything that promised that in your body.”

“Good point. But this smoothie is really good. Thank you. You got it from the place on the corner?”

“Yep.”

“Maybe I should talk to them and see if they want to expand.”

Kari got to her feet. “Stop thinking business. Enjoy the smoothie. Let all the little antioxidants do their thing. I’m going to eat my sandwich. I went to the farmers’ market and got some of the most amazing tomatoes.”

“Enjoy,” I said.

She left me alone to drink my smoothie.

A burst of laughter echoed from the hallway. I glanced up as Mara from marketing, Braden from operations, and two other staffers headed toward the elevators in a loose cluster. One of them spotted me through the open door and gave a small nod, but no one paused or called out. They didn’t stop by my open door to invite me to lunch with them. They knew better.

They were probably going to that Italian place down the street. The one with the good Caesar salads and the bread that came out warm with olive oil for dipping.

Totally unhealthy but so good. It almost had me getting out of my chair and rushing after them.

I watched them file into the elevator, their voices carrying even though I couldn’t make out the words. Someone said something that made the whole group burst out laughing. The elevator doors closed. The floor went quiet.

And I was still in my chair. In my office. Alone.

I turned back to my computer screen and pulled up the next report I needed to review. A potential partnership with a kombucha company out of Portland. My stomach growled.

I ignored it and took another sip of my smoothie. It wasn’t the same as actual food, but it would hold me over.

Food could wait until I was alone in my apartment. As usual.

They used to invite me, I thought, watching the empty desks through my office window. For the first few months after I’d started at Young at Heart, someone would stop by my office around noon and ask if I wanted to join them for lunch.

And I’d always said no.