Chapter 8 - TWELVE DOLLARS
Dating Daniel was inconvenient.
People stared.
Articles appeared.
Some called me Cinderella.
I hated that most.
Cinderella had needed a prince.
I had needed affordable childcare and a transmission that didn't sound like metal being murdered.
Daniel understood eventually.
He never offered to buy my company.
Never offered to solve my bills.
When I needed advice, he gave it.
When I didn't ask, he learned to stay quiet.
Our first real argument happened when he tried to pay for Lily's preschool.
“No.”
“It's a good school.”
“I know.”
“I can afford it.”
“So can I.”
He stopped.
That was new.
A year earlier, I couldn't.
Now I could.
Naomi Brooks Property Services employed twenty-nine people.
I had contracts with medical offices, warehouses, and three small hotels.
Hartwell Freight became a client eventually.
Not because Daniel selected us.
Procurement did.
I made him show me the scoring sheet anyway.
“You're impossible.”
“Correct.”
One evening Lily emptied her piggy bank onto the table.
Coins rolled everywhere.
“Twelve dollars!”
She shouted it like she'd discovered oil.
Daniel looked at me.
I remembered that morning at the estate.
Twelve dollars in cash.
Two hundred eighty-six in the bank.
Nine days until rent.
A woman can live several different lives without moving very far.
I had been frightened of losing a job.
Now I was responsible for twenty-nine people's jobs.
The thought humbled me.
It also terrified me.
Daniel reached under the table and picked up a quarter.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“You're doing the thing.”
“What thing?”
“Thinking seventeen thoughts and pretending you're thinking none.”
I smiled.
“You know me too well.”
May you like
“Working on it.”
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