Chapter 25
Tallulah
Iarrived at Jamison's condo in the early evening, nerves fluttering in my stomach. The last time I was there, we had scorched the sheets and the chair in his bedroom, and my internal temperature rose at the memories as I stood outside.
When he opened the door, I inhaled silently, memories of our lovemaking flooding back. Then, of course, there was the kiss he had given me at the center before limping away. Barely a moment had passed when I hadn't relived his lips on mine.
"Come in," Jamison said.
I stepped across the threshold, and he led me into the kitchen.
"I ordered sushi, and then thought... what if she doesn't eat sushi? If you don't, I can order something different for your dinner."
He was so considerate. "I love sushi," I assured him, placing my cloth bag with my computer and notes on the counter.
Jamison's small galley kitchen opened on both ends, so it didn't seem cramped.
On the other side was a dining area with a polished mahogany table and four chairs.
The rest of his home was exactly as I remembered—very neat and orderly, and I was certain he hadn't straightened up because I was coming over. This was the norm.
The decor consisted of clean lines and neutral colors everywhere. A charcoal sectional faced a mounted flat-screen TV, and against one wall were built-in shelves holding mostly nonfiction books.
"How is your leg?" I asked.
"Much better," he replied, sounding relieved. He removed two plates from a cabinet. "I haven't gone to the gym or done any strenuous activities. Taking it easy is my motto for now."
He handed me a plate, and I selected pieces from the containers of food he had set out. Afterward, he poured himself a glass of wine, but I opted for water, and we ate at the small table.
We started off talking about the kids and the wedding, and I slipped in one or two teasing remarks about his venture into yoga, but most of our conversation centered around the plans for the building.
After dinner, Jamison led me down the hallway. When we passed the door leading to his bedroom, I purposely kept my eyes straight ahead, focused on his back.
His home office was impressive. A large cherrywood desk facing the window contained two monitors.
An expensive-looking laser printer sat atop a three-drawer file cabinet made of the same cherrywood.
Unsurprisingly, his desk was organized with the same precision as the rest of his home.
Pens were in a holder, papers were neatly arranged in clear organizers, and not a sticky note in sight.
His skin must have been crawling in my tiny office.
He sat behind the desk and pulled another chair around next to it. "Ready to work?"
"As ready as I'll ever be."
We worked for at least an hour, revising the PowerPoint presentation to include not only my original tenant surveys and community impact stories but also Jamison's financial projections and market analysis. I was impressed by the thoroughness of his research.
He pointed a pen at one of the monitors.
"What do you think about this slide? I'm thinking we should mention specific numbers.
For instance, your notes say Leslie's coffee shop is a daily stop for the office workers on the upper floors, and the print shop handles a few of the corporate accounts.
We need the exact numbers and should include others, like the Far East Market.
How many people come in there after work to purchase items before going home?
We could also mention the bakery if Shelley has hard numbers to provide, and then transition to the financial stability argument. "
Studying the slide, I was impressed by how he had woven hard data with the human element. "I like your idea. It suggests we're not just small businesses, we're also part of the building's ecosystem."
"It's not a suggestion. You are a part of the ecosystem," he said in a firm voice.
"The plaza works because of the relationships established among the tenants on the first two floors and the professional offices above.
Ochoa runs the risk of disrupting this synergy by bringing in new tenants who might not integrate well. "
I nodded. "Sounds logical. Obvious."
He moved to the next slide. "Ochoa is looking at raw numbers and not considering intangible value—things like the stability of the businesses already there and how each one helps to make the building attractive to the people upstairs, as well as casual passersby."
His fingers moved quickly over the keyboard, his brow furrowed in concentration. He was in his element, problem-solving and analyzing to find a solution.
And he was doing it for me.
"Jamison." I said his name in a low voice.
He looked up, his eyes questioning.
I opened my mouth to express my appreciation and tell him how much his efforts meant to me, but I surprised myself by saying something entirely different. "What if this doesn't work?" I had voiced my fears out loud.
"The presentation? We can revise—"
"No, I mean... what if we do everything right and put together a stellar presentation, and Mr. Ochoa doesn't care?
What if he doesn't care about community value and ecosystem synergy?
What if he doesn't care about the numbers and just wants us out so he can make more money the way he believes is best? "
Jamison twisted the chair to face me fully. "I'm confident we're putting together a stronger presentation, but if it doesn't work, you can find a new location."
I shook my head. "A new place won't be the same. The building has a new name, which was jarring enough, but the location is perfect. It's where I built my business from scratch."
"Tallulah, you can build again somewhere else."
He didn't understand, and I felt the familiar tightness that appeared in my chest whenever I considered the possibility of losing Simply Well. "You make starting over sound so easy."
His face turned sympathetic. "It's not easy, but it can be done."
"Can it?" The words came out with more bitterness than I intended.
"Maybe this is proof I was never supposed to have a business in the first place.
My ex-husband used to say I was too flighty and idealistic.
He said I didn't understand how the real world worked, and now I'm wondering if he was right.
I put so much into Simply Well all these years, and now a buyout could wipe out all my hard work. "
Jamison's expression hardened. "He wasn't right."
"You don't know that."
"Yes, I do. You've been running a successful business for ten years, in a very precarious industry, I might add.
You beat the odds by staying open. For ten years, you've helped people, built a client base, and become a meaningful part of the community.
Far from flighty, your work is real and powerful. "
"But if I lose it all—"
"A setback doesn't wipe out a decade of success.
" He moved closer, his eyes intense. "I’m sure you've faced challenges before in this business.
The change coming from the new landlord is another one, a big one, but you're not facing the situation alone.
You have the other tenants behind you. You're also not unprepared.
The tenants are organized, you gathered information from them, and you're putting together a strategic response through a presentation.
You're not flighty, Tallulah. You're a smart businesswoman, and if by chance this doesn't work—which I'm fairly confident it will—I know you can start over and be successful again. "
I desperately wanted to believe him. "When I told you that I tended to go with the flow, I wasn't exaggerating," I said quietly.
"Other than my beautiful daughter, this business is my greatest accomplishment.
I hate to think I might lose it because I didn't plan better, because I didn't prepare for a raise in the rent or—"
"Stop." Jamison gripped my hands in his.
"No one could have predicted this. My specialty is commercial banking, and having a business can be extremely volatile with changes all the time.
Landlords shift their priorities for any number of reasons.
What's happening has nothing to do with a failure to plan. It simply was outside anyone’s control. "
"But I don't have a backup plan because I just go with the flow," I said, my voice shaky.
His expression softened. "We need more people like you in the world, believe me. Without you, the rest of us wouldn't have any fun, and life would be boring as hell."
Despite my worries, I smiled. "Boring is safe."
"Safe is overrated."
"You don't believe that for a second. If I had to guess, safe is your middle name. You probably have a five-year financial plan mapped out."
He released me.
"I have a ten-year plan, but that's not the point." He looked deeply into my eyes. "Your approach to life, where you depend on intuition and creativity and you're willing to take risks based on your own beliefs—that's valuable, Tallulah. That's how you built Simply Well into the place it is today."
My throat tightened with emotion.
"You do not want to be more like me," he said dryly.
"I've spent my entire adult life playing it safe, coloring within the lines, planning, and using structure to guide my every step.
All to minimize risk. What do I have to show for it?
Sure, I have a successful career, but maybe if I had taken more risks, I could be farther along, in a higher position.
My marriage failed, and my son forced me to take dance lessons because I'm so stiff and rigid. "
I touched his knee. "You're being too hard on yourself."
"And so are you." His hand covered mine, threading his fingers between my fingers. "I know we're different, but being different doesn't mean one of us is right and the other is wrong. We can balance each other out."
"Is that what we're doing? Balancing each other?" I held my breath as I waited for his answer, fully aware I was asking about more than the work on the computer.
"I believe so. If you'll let me," he replied quietly.
I examined our intertwined fingers—his large and pale, mine smaller, dark, and decorated with rings. We were different in so many ways, yet we fit together.
He squeezed my fingers and lifted the back of my hand to his lips. "You're going to be fine. I'm going to do everything I can to make sure of it, starting with this excellent PowerPoint presentation." He smiled.
I smiled back. "If Ochoa doesn't like it, I'll be fine," I said, my confidence slowly returning.
"Exactly. Now, I have another idea..."
We spent the next thirty minutes discussing lease terms and current turnover costs and all kinds of things I had never considered or heard about.
I valued Jamison's suggestions.
I trusted him.
Not only with this business presentation but with my heart. Going with the flow had seen me through some tough periods in my life, but I was starting to see the value in stopping, thinking, and using a measured approach.
Jamison made me realize I was hanging onto some of the negative comments my ex-husband had made in the past. His assessment had lingered in the back of my mind, but Jamison's comments helped me see my strengths were as valuable as anyone else's.
I sat back in the chair, enjoying the simple pleasure of watching him work. He was loving this, and I loved this feeling of being part of a team for the first time in a long time. This feeling of not having to figure out everything alone.
Maybe a rigid tightwad wasn't so bad after all. As long as his name was Jamison Harris.