7. Jake
CHAPTER SEVEN
jake
I ’ve been working a minimum of ten-hour days to stay caught up with all my orders and continue making some of my best-selling pieces.
Part of me thought that would slow down once I had my own shop, but it seems to be the opposite.
The mornings have been spent going over plans with the construction crew that’s working on my storefront.
Oh, and in the afternoons and evenings, I’ve been organizing my shop out back while trying not to fall behind on orders.
While the store is coming together quickly and will be ready to open to the public after next week, I’m not ready.
I have order slips and emails of orders strewn across my work desk, and I need to hire people to work in my store as well as a new apprentice since the last kid moved.
There’s one person I know who thrives on order and creating lists who would be happy to help, so I suck up my pride and dial Lily.
An hour later, her car pulls into the lot beside my workshop and parks next to Amber’s.
I’ve been keeping the two bay doors open while I work to let in the fresh spring air and help with the sawdust and stale smell.
She waves, then moves to her back seat, pulling out a bag the size of her, so I rush over to snag it from her hands.
“You can’t be carrying things like this,” I scold her while peeking into the thing. “What the hell did you bring anyway?”
When she stops in her tracks, I realize my mistake. I’ve been really good at keeping her secret for the last month, but I think I just blew it. Thoren’s going to kill me.
“And why exactly can’t I carry things?” She scowls, hands on her hips. On someone like Amber or Michele, it might be convincing, but on sweet Lily, it just looks adorable.
My brain scrambles for any other excuse besides her pregnancy. “It’s a heavy bag, and I know your laptop is in here. If that thing breaks, I know you’ll be upset, and I can’t risk pissing off my landlord.”
Her narrowed eyes assess me for the lie as we settle into the corner I’ve claimed for my temporary office.
When she says nothing more, I assume my lie was good enough.
Lily is an incredible author, or so Thoren says.
I certainly haven’t read the four copies of her books she intentionally left in my cabin when she moved out …
and I know her laptop is a very expensive and prized possession of hers.
She looks through the messy desk while I pull out her laptop, notebooks, binders, a pack of pens, and every office supply you could imagine. I knew she was the girl for the job.
“What exactly is it you need? A calendar of projects and due dates? A way to track your orders and payments? A whole business plan?”
I scratch the back of my neck, trying not to put all my shortcomings on her.
These are the exact feelings I have fought to get rid of.
“I took business classes in college, but technology and organization have never been my strong suit. I think I need a better way to track orders. The problem is, I get orders over email, phone, and my website, so keeping track of them and the time they came in and if they paid and such is not going well. I tried to make a spreadsheet, but I keep falling behind on filling it out. My next step is probably a business manager of some sort, I just can’t afford one right now. ”
If this was anyone else, I would be embarrassed to admit this. It’s my business, and I should know how to run it, especially since I started it in college over nine years ago. Lily doesn’t look at me like I’m stupid though, she just nods and tells me to get out of her hair so she can get to work.
My mom called earlier this morning asking me to visit because she had an idea, and I have a proposition for her.
Leaving Lily to her work, I hop on my Harley and make my way to my parents’.
They live right outside of downtown in a quiet neighborhood.
It’s the same small house I grew up in, a little tattered around the edges but full of love.
The rumble of my engine draws stares that I ignore as I park in their small driveway.
My boots crunch on the gravel, and my mom throws open the screen door with a wide smile. “Jacob!” She holds her arms open. “I’ve missed you. Do you need lunch?”
I tower over my mom’s five-two frame when I hug her.
At six four, I’m taller than most, even my dad at an even six foot.
Sometimes, I feel like a giant who stands out no matter where I go, and sometimes, I’m grateful it gets people out of my way.
“I was here this weekend for dinner, Mom. I’m going to pick up lunch for Lily and me later since she’s helping me out. ”
She pats my arm, settling into a chair beside my dad in the living room. “That’s kind, honey. Tell her we say hello. I wanted to show you my idea for your store.” She pulls out a tablet while slipping on her glasses, and my dad chuckles.
“Hey, son. She’s been on that dang site for days now searching for ideas.” My dad’s face is pale, and he makes no effort to move, so I know it’s a bad day .
A few months after I left for college, he had an accident on a job site.
His harness snapped when he was framing a roof, and he fell off the scaffolding to the concrete slab below.
He’s lucky to be alive, but with a broken hip, shattered femur and shoulder, as well as a few cracked ribs and a popped lung, he never fully recovered.
My parents have been living off disability ever since, along with some help from me.
“How are you doing, Dad?” I ask, stretching my legs out in front of me.
“Hanging in there. Can’t wait to come see the place when it’s all set up.” He could come at any time, but he hates the pitying looks he gets at limping with his cane, and on bad days, I know the pain is too much to leave the house.
“Here it is! For your walls, I was thinking you could do a mix of pictures of local landscapes and photos of your previous work. That way people can get a better idea of your skill and range of items they can ask for. Also, I was thinking of a lookbook for an extensive list of your past work with photos for the front desk.” My mom scrolls through the photos she has saved of ideas.
“I may have already ordered all these things,” she says under her breath.
“They’re stacked in your old room. I haven’t gotten the frames yet. ”
I bark out a laugh, expecting nothing less from my mom.
She doesn’t only offer to help, she helps, then tells you about it after.
Crafting is a hobby she loves and is incredibly skilled at.
She’s made cushions and pillows for many benches, chairs, and couches I’ve made without me ever asking.
It’s where I came up with the idea for the shop I’m hoping she’ll agree to.
“Thanks, Mom. I’ll make sure to order the frames today. I’ll have to come back for the photos when I have my truck.”
“If you didn’t have that death trap, then that wouldn’t be an issue, Jacob.
” She eyes me over her glasses, giving her best scolding face.
She knows I’m never giving up my Harley but loves to give me shit about it.
My poor baby could get so hurt. Imagine how skin grafts would look over those beautiful tattoos.
As if she loves my tattoos, which she doesn’t, but does her best to hide the fact.
“I actually have a big ask for you. I need someone to work in the store for a bit until I can hire someone full-time. I was hoping you would be willing to help me out.” I scratch the back of my neck, hating having to ask my parents for anything more in life.
“The crew is building a little office in the back that I was thinking of setting up as a sewing room for you—if you want, that is. You can sell your pillows and such that you make to go with the furniture and work on it anytime it’s slow. ”
Her eyes fill with unshed tears. “I would love that. We’re so proud of you, and I’m happy to help whenever and wherever you need me.”
We sat and chatted for another thirty minutes before I told them I needed to pick up lunch for Lily.
A quick text to Thoren informed me she’s been craving burritos this week, so I stopped in town to grab some.
She’s exactly where I left her, moving between our laptops and the mess of papers.
I force her to take a break to eat, and a small smile creeps over my face at her excitement over the burritos.
“I’m updating and extending your spreadsheet, but I also bought a planner that I’m filling out with similar info.
Both are color coordinated to show how they were ordered in case you need to go back and find them, and also have different markings depending on if they have been paid up front or not.
In my personal opinion, you need something beyond that.
When was the last time you updated your website? ”
I wince, swallowing down a big bite. “It hasn’t been updated since I made it … nine years ago.”
She clicks her tongue at me, then sucks down her lemonade.
“Figured. Websites aren’t my thing. I thrive on organization and finances.
Which I took a peek, sorry, but you’re doing great, Jake.
You need to overhaul your website. All orders should be going through there, even ones from the other showrooms. Emails and calls should only be for confirmation of details or delivery instructions.
If you set the website up right, it can track everything for you like invoices and such.
It will be trickier for the custom projects people want, but you can make a basic package or utilize your email for that to discuss prices and specifics. ”
This is all going over my head again. Scrubbing a hand down my face, I scratch my growing stubble. “Do I need to hire someone to do all that?”
She considers it for a moment, then lights up as she shakes her head.
“Ask Amber. She built her website from scratch and does the majority of her sales through it. If there’s anyone who knows what they’re doing, it’s her.
She just finished an online degree in marketing too and could help you with your branding and marketing if you asked. ”
Of course, the one person who can’t stand me is the one person I need.
She owes me, but I don’t want to use it on something like this.
I could just hire someone to create the website, but I need someone to walk me through it all too.
Huffing, I shove the last of my burrito in my mouth.
Lily’s help will last for a little while; it looks like she has my next month planned out and all the open orders are organized.
It will give me time to figure out how to get Amber to help me.
While I get Lily’s bag back in her car, she pops over to Amber’s store to check on her.
I should be working on the two tables I need to have done by Friday, but I decide to pop into the store instead.
My crew has the wood beams on the ceiling, the back office framed and drywalled, and the cement floor painted a sleek black.
All that’s left is the lighting and painting the walls, then it’s up to me to set the space up.
I’m grateful for my mom’s help in covering the walls with art because that’s not my thing.
I plan to build a custom desk for my mom, or whoever is working, to sit at.
That also really needs to get done this weekend.
Two tables and a desk in four days as well as finishing organizing my new shop, figuring out what wood I need to get ordered, and setting up the store … Easy, right?
There will be a lot more late nights in my future.