I shrug and flip up the tailgate after everything is loaded up. “Savannah seems to like her. I don’t know the whole story. Just that Mesa had asked her to take care of the plants and flowers.”
“I know a guy that could look into her and get back with you by tonight,” Gage chimes in.
That seems invasive and probably unnecessary. But if there’s something there, I want to know about it if Savannah is going to be living here. “I’ll ask Savvy and see what she wants to do,” I say.
“Alright. Just let me know,” he nods. “I’m headed back to my house. See y’all tomorrow.”
Twenty minutes later, I drive past the front entrance of my business on the edge of town and pull up next to the door out back that leads to the service shop. It’s a massive building, builtto accommodate large equipment. At the moment, it’s nothing but inventory on the inside. But with it opening for business soon and harvest around the corner, it’ll be full of all kinds of projects that need fixing or tuning up before I know it.
Heston, Tripp, and I walk through the shop and into my office that’s just to the left after you enter the showroom.
“Place looks good,” Heston says, sinking into the chair across from my desk.
“Yeah, these chairs are nice,” Tripp adds as he runs his hands along the sides of the leather chair identical to the one Heston’s sitting in.
“You can thank Blythe for those. Pretty sure she did some damage on Gage’s credit card because something new from her shows up in a delivery truck every other day,” I laugh.
“Did she hang that picture too?” he asks, referring to the black and white photo in a barn wood frame sitting on the corner of my desk.
The picture was taken not long after Heston had moved in and started working on the ranch. We’d just finished gutting out a few stock trailers when my mom showed up to drop off something I’d left in Dad’s Blazer. Laughing about how rough we looked, she pulled out her phone to snap a picture.
In the photo, straight-faced Heston is leaning against the side of a trailer with a foot propped up on one of the tires. His dog, Lucky, is lying on the ground in front of him, unamused. Tripp is smirking toward the camera wearing a holey cut off with his bare arms crossed. Standing next to him, Gage has his hat pulled down and a hand in his pocket. And in the middle, there’s me. There’s less scruff on my face and meat on my bones since it was taken so long ago, but I look just as happy to be there as I’ve always been.
The clarity of the photo isn’t great with the dust kicking up in the dry breeze, but you can still see the evidence of sweat on ourskin and dirt on our jeans and boots. Funny, I never remember how strenuous and sometimes miserable those workdays were. I only recalled how lucky I was to have a good job, a place to live, and to be around my best friends 24/7.
We’ve always had a hell of a time together and I wish I wouldn’t have taken it for granted. Things are going to look a whole lot different soon with me around even less than I’ve already been.
“Good times,” Tripp says with a sigh, picking the picture up to get a closer look.
“The best,” I agree.
“Are y’all going to hold hands and trade friendship bracelets now, or can we get back to the ranch?” Heston asks.
“Yeah sorry, I just need to find?—”
I ruffle through the stacks of various billing statements and papers on my desk, looking for the one I need.
“Got it,” I say holding up a crumpled piece of yellow paper torn from a legal pad. It’s covered in spontaneous scribbled notes that I’ll have to work to make sense of, but I fold it and put it in my back pocket to look at later.
“What is it?” Tripp asks.
“Some notes,” I answer. “Just some stuff I’m working on for the opening party.”
I’ve done the groundwork to get this business ready since the day the idea popped into my head. Aside from using my savings that I’d been piling up for nearly a decade, I did whatever it took to get the rest of the necessary funds and support. From the loans to the investors, the permits, and even the employees, all my ducks are in a row.
At this point, all that’s left is to cut the ribbon and celebrate the opening.
Going into this, I thought that the early stages of getting everything squared away and ready to go would be the hardestpart. Instead, the biggest challenge has been all mental for me. I’ve tried not to worry about how monumental of a failure it could be if a business of this scale doesn’t perform according to plan once it’s open.
I’m a damn hard worker and I’m good at what I do. At least, I’ve been told. But in business, not everything is in your control—and that’s what keeps me up at night.
“Are y’all going to be there?”
Heston nods twice.
“Does Dolly Parton sleep on her back?” Tripp asks.
I smirk and flick off the lights as I walk out of the room.
