Coronation Day
LAINEY
The song from Frozen loops through my head as I go through my notes one last time.
It’s finally gotten chilly at night, so Dean, Colt, and I have been snuggling on their couch to watch movies after dinner. Dean’s requested Frozen three out of the past four nights, and I think I have the whole movie memorized at this point.
I smile at my reflection in the mirror, even as I’m hit by a wave of nerves.
Presentation day is finally here. This is not my first rodeo, and I’ve already gotten the thumbs up on Double U Ranch and part of the color scheme.
I feel fairly confident that the rest of my concepts, like the home page for the site, the logo, and a few taglines, are solid.
I’ve worked hard over the past couple months, and I’m super proud of what I’ve come up with.
I look cute in my bell-bottom jeans and button-up shirt, which I figured was a casual-yet-polished nod to the cowboys and cowgirls I’ll be addressing in a few minutes at Paige and Dale’s house.
But I am still really, really nervous.
Let’s be real, that’s no surprise. I care deeply about all my projects. But this one feels different.
It is different. I just have a funny feeling that nothing is going to be the same after this. Working here—accepting this job, getting to know these people—has changed me in ways I never anticipated.
The Wallaces have come to mean a lot to me. Which means I care about what they think.
Last night, I sent an email to the entire family with my presentation attached.
Everyone replied back with a quick “thanks!” or “excited to dive in.” But otherwise, I haven’t heard boo.
Even from Colt, although I know he’s busy catching up on work around the ranch.
We took a rare night off from hanging out so I could put the finishing touches on the presentation and practice my delivery.
I miss him. Dean too.
I miss them both way more than I should.
My phone rings, making me jump. Jogging over to the kitchen table, I see that Mom is calling.
“Hi.” I don’t try to hide the surprise in my voice. “I’ve been trying to call you.”
“Hey, Lainey. I know. I’m sorry about that, I just…we missed you on Thanksgiving. I missed you.”
The old guilt trip. Funny enough, I feel more annoyed than guilty. “I missed you too. Listen, I’d love to talk, but I’m actually about to head out to present my ideas to the Wallaces.”
“Oh! That’s right. You mentioned that in your voicemail. Good luck. I know they’re going to love what you show them.”
Nothing like a little whiplash. First Mom tells me running my own branding business isn’t a “real job,” then she commends me for being good at it.
Which is it? I want to ask. Do you approve of my choices or not?
Although it strikes me that while I’d love to have my parents’ approval, I’m not sure that I need it anymore. I’m proud of the work I’m doing. The Wallaces really have loved my ideas so far. My clients are happy.
I mean, what if I trusted the feeling in my gut that I’m on the right path here? What if I let Mom and Dad think what they wanted and I just…go do what I want?
I send up a little prayer of gratitude that I reached out earlier to the psychologist recommended by Colt’s therapist. I’ve got a lot of work to do, but I feel like I’m headed in the right direction.
Sighing, I paste on a smile. “Thanks, Mom. That means a lot. I’m nervous but excited too. This has been a fun one to work on. I’ll miss it here.”
Glancing around my beautiful apartment, my chest squeezes. I still need to build out the website once the Wallaces make their selections—logo, header, tagline, colors—and I get their approval to move forward. But that will take a week. Two, tops.
Then I really will be done. And I don’t know how I feel about that.
“Are you okay?” Mom asks. “You sound a little…off.”
I swallow. “I’m fine. I just wasn’t expecting to like it all so much—the ranch and the cowboys and everything.”
“Is there a cowboy in particular who’s caught your eye?”
“One, yes. But it’s not serious. Can’t be, you know?”
Liar.
“Right, because you’re leaving. But there’s nothing wrong with a little fun. Good for you.”
My eyes film over. “Yeah. It has been fun.”
“Always good to get your ya-yas out every once in a while. Especially before you start the job hunt again. I’m so excited to have you back home, at least for a little while.”
My stomach twists. I don’t know where I’m headed next, but I do hope it’s not back home to Fort Worth. My lease is up on my apartment in Austin at the end of December. Do I take a chance and renew it? But that doesn’t feel right either.
Before, I would’ve told Mom all this. About Colt, the rebrand, the ranch itself. I thought I told her stuff like that because we were close and I wanted her to be part of my life.
Now I’m starting to think I told her everything because we were a little too close. I wanted to share good news or exciting developments in the hopes it’d lift her mood. Make her day suck a little less.
I need to practice that acceptance Colt talked about and accept that I can’t make her happy.
I need to accept that she’s not going to be the role model I’ve always wanted. Like Colt said, my dad’s not going to change, and neither is Mom.
But she’ll always love me. She’ll always be willing to lend an ear or a hand. And she’ll always be there for me, even if she does show up with opinions that don’t exactly mesh with my own.
And that makes me feel…free.
I no longer have the obligation to put what I want aside so I can be her life preserver. She doesn’t agree with my choices? Yeah, that’ll sting, but it’s only my future on the line now. Not ours.
I’m only responsible for myself. Not everything I do needs to make my mom happy, because truth is I never had the power to make her happy in the first place.
It feels like a lesson I should’ve learned way back in kindergarten. Better late than never, though, right?
“I’m not sure I want to come home.” I can’t believe I just said that out loud.
“What? Did you get a job somewhere? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m having second thoughts.” I pause, choosing my words carefully. “About abandoning my branding business.”
Silence.
Then: “But you can’t do that as a real job.”
“Mom, you were the one who suggested I take this job for the ranch. You said it’d lead to a ‘real job.’ And it did.
My branding business is real, and I think I can make real money continuing to build it.
I didn’t think I’d like taking on a client in this industry, but turns out I love it. It’s got me thinking—”
“How about you come home and think about it here?”
No way in hell.
“I’m good enough to make a living doing this, Mom.
I think I knew that before, but the whole private equity interview process made me second-guess myself in, well, practically every respect.
” I let out a mirthless chuckle. “I don’t know.
I think I need to give myself a chance to apply everything I learned in business school to my own damn business and see where it takes me. ”
Who am I?
Since when do I take chances?
Since when do I put myself first?
“I…don’t know what to say,” Mom replies at last. “Where do you think you’d like to go?”
“I don’t know. Yet. I’ll figure it out. I just have to get through this presentation, and then…”
“That cowboy doesn’t have anything to do with this, does he?”
Rolling my eyes, I reach for my laptop. “Mom, I gotta go. Thanks for calling. I love you.”
“Lainey! Wait. I’m worried—”
“I’m fine. Better than ever actually. Trust me, okay?”
I almost add I’ve never disappointed you before, and I’m not about to start now.
But it’s time for a reframe. I’m done disappointing myself. I’ve done so much of that in the past, and it stops now.
So I tell Mom goodbye and I hang up.
I drop my laptop in my tote bag, along with my notebook and the copies of the presentation I printed out at the ranch’s offices earlier this morning.
Taking a deep breath, I grab my keys and head out into the December sunshine.